Page 41 of One Little Mistake

Maybe someday I’ll get married again, tie myself down to a woman, have kids. Maybe.

But after all these years, I’ve gotten used to the way I live—used to the loneliness—and honestly, I’m not sure I want to change a damn thing.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I head toward the hospital, still not quite believing I’m doing this again—voluntarily offering to help Erin.

She doesn’t even know. She texted me last night, saying she was being discharged today. I didn’t reply. Not because I don’t care—hell, it’s the opposite.

She’s gotten under my skin, and that’s dangerous. Women always mean trouble, and women in trouble? Double the chaos.

I’m heading toward Building 5, cutting across the hospital parking lot.

I haven’t been talking to Erin, but I’ve checked in with her doctor every single day. The guy wanted to discharge her two days ago, but I pushed back, insisting they keep her a little longer.

After everything that happened, she needed the extra time. No way I was letting them rush it.

I’m just stepping onto the front steps when the door swings open and a slightly pale girl with fiery red hair appears, clutching a baby wrapped in a blanket tightly against her chest. Her eyes are glued to the little bundle, so she doesn’t notice me right away.

For a second, I consider turning around and letting her go her own way—like it was supposed to happen—but then she slips on the icy threshold, and I rush forward to catch her before she falls.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she gasps, her voice shaky with fear, and lifts her gaze to me.

Her eyes widen in surprise—big and green. The kind of green that could drive a man insane.

“M-Max?” she stammers, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d finish what I started.”

I step back, giving her space, and pull a crooked grin.

“Brought you here. Might as well take you back.”

Cynthia used to say my sense of humor was terrible. Now I’m starting to see her point—because Erin’s not even close to smiling.

Same as the last time, when I joked about stealing her baby and she damn near had a heart attack.

“I thought we agreed you’d come by my place after you were discharged to pick up your stuff,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but… I need to rent an apartment first before I can move everything. I have an appointment with a realtor at noon to check out a couple of places near my work. I swear I’ll get a truck tomorrow to haul it all over. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!”

She blurts it out in one breath and nervously bites her lower lip, completely unaware of how ridiculously adorable she looks doing it.

Damn it.

I’m supposed to be annoyed with her—not melting like snow underfoot. She’s a stranger. A woman with a baby, no less. She took over half my closet, nearly destroyed my book collection, and don’t even get me started on all the crap that flooded my apartment.

“Are you insane?” I snap, my irritation boiling over. “You’re not even fully recovered yet, and you plan on running around the city with a baby in your arms looking for an apartment? Are you out of your mind? What if something happens to you? Did you not hear what the doctor said? Bed rest. No physical strain.” I throw it all at her, right in her face, because this reckless girl seems like she’s living in a fantasy world.

Does she not get how serious this is?

“And what do you suggest I do?” she fires back, matching my energy, stepping closer until we’re practically face-to-face.

There’s fire blazing in her green eyes, and for a second, I’m thrown.

Compared to Cynthia, she’s actually pretty tall. I’m not used to it—every woman I’ve ever dated barely reached my shoulder at best.

“Should I just live on the street? Right here, on the hospital steps? Or maybe,” she spits, sarcasm dripping from every word, “I could just move in with you. You’ve already got a nursery. My stuff’s basically there already. Super convenient. And, by the way, I’m a damn good cook.”

“Sounds perfect,” I growl through gritted teeth.

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