Page 27 of Dagger

I rub my belly, trying to soothe both of us into sleep. “It’s okay, little man,” I whisper softly. “We’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

I remind myself what really matters: this baby. My little boy. He’s going to be here before I know it, and I need to get my shit together.

The thought of Dagger flashes in my mind, uninvited but unavoidable. I need to talk to him. He deserves to know the truth—that this baby is his. As much as it scares me, I can’t keep putting it off.

Mentally, I start making a list of everything I need to do. First, I need to find a new place to live. The she-shed isn’t going to cut it with a newborn. Then there’s telling Dagger, and figuring out what that conversation is even going to look like.

And the baby stuff—God, there’s so much to buy. A car seat, clothes, diapers, a crib, bottles. My head spins just thinking about it all.

I take a deep breath, my hand still resting over my bump. “One step at a time,” I murmur, trying to calm the panic rising in my chest.

For now, all I can do is hold onto the one thing I know for sure: this little boy is my everything. And no matter what happens, I’ll figure it out for him.

But even as I say it, doubts creep in. My mind spins with everything I need to do, everything I still don’t have. A car seat, clothes, diapers, bottles, a crib. The list feels endless, and with every passing day, the clock ticks louder.

And then there’s Dagger. He doesn’t know, and that weight sits heavy on my chest. He deserves to know, doesn’t he? I can’t keep pretending this isn’t his baby. But the thought of that conversation—the look on his face, the things he might say—it terrifies me.

I close my eyes, my hand still resting on my bump. “I’m not going to be like my mom,” I whisper to myself, my voice firmer this time. “I can’t be.”

I think of her, the way she gave up so easily, the way she always let life happen to her instead of fighting for anything. I can’t let that be me. I can’t let that be my son’s story.

Whatever it takes, I’ll figure this out. I’ll get a new place, tell Dagger the truth, and make sure my boy has everything he needs. He deserves that. He deserves better.

And I’m going to make sure he gets it, no matter what it costs me.

At the end of the day, he’s the only thing that matters in this world. My little boy. Everything else—Dagger, the fear, the uncertainty—fades when I think about him.

I rub my belly again, my fingers tracing slow, soothing circles. “I love you so damn much,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “And I haven’t even held you yet.”

The thought of him, tiny and fragile in my arms, fills my chest with an ache I can’t explain. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, but it’s the purest thing I’ve ever felt.

I wipe at the corner of my eye, a tear slipping free, and let out a shaky breath. No matter how hard things get, no matter how many questions I don’t have answers to, I know one thing for sure.

I love this baby with everything I am. And I’ll do whatever it takes to give him the life he deserves.

TEN

DAGGER

I followMason into the office, the door slamming shut with a force that makes the walls tremble. He spins around, his glare cutting through me like a blade.

“You’re here,” he growls, his voice sharp and bitter. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re the one who told me to come back,” I fire back, my tone just as rough. “Said we needed to settle this face-to-face. Well, here I am.”

The words barely leave my mouth before Mason’s fist crashes into my jaw. Pain detonates like a bomb, and I stagger back, hitting the floor hard. I stay down, propped up on my hands, staring at the scuffed floorboards as I work my jaw.

“Yeah,” I mutter, tasting blood. “I deserved that.”

“You’re damn right you did,” Mason snaps, towering over me, his chest heaving. “But don’t think that’s the end of it. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

I push myself to my feet, slow and deliberate, shaking the sting out of my arms. “I know,” I say evenly. “What do you want to know first?”

Mason folds his arms, his glare unwavering. “Start with why the hell you left. And don’t sugarcoat it.”

The weight of his words presses down on me, heavy and inevitable. I knew this was coming. The second I stepped back into this town, I knew I’d have to face him. My jaw tightens as I brace myself.

“I screwed up,” I admit, my voice low but steady. “I let everything get too far, and instead of facing it, I bailed. I thought it would be easier to just leave.”

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