Page 29 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Easton lifts one shoulder and lets it drop like a rock as he hands my phone back to me. “We have to tell him,” he says definitively.
“Whoa! Tell him?! Wait a minute.” I quickly hold up a hand as if to physically stop him from capsizing my whole world. Then I frantically try to reason with him.“Easton, you’re only in town for the summer. You said so yourself. Then, once you’re healed up, you’ll be going straight back to your fabulous, glitzy life. And Jagger will be stuck here, feeling confused and wondering what he did to chase off his own father.”
Easton scowls at me. “Excuse me?!”
As panic courses through me, I jump to my feet. “You don’t get it. It’s bad enough for a kid to not be close to their motherortheir father. But Jagger? He already sees you as an idol. You’re his absolute hero. Finding out that you’re his father,and then losing you would, well, it would devastate him.” My hands flail around me as I speak.
Easton slowly rises from the bench until he’s towering above me. His brows pull in tightly, determination hardening his beautiful face. “And what makes you think I’m leaving this town without my son?”
My heart stops.
It stops beating completely.
A terrifying realization slips into my thoughts.He’s going to take Jagger away from me. Oh god. He’s going to take Jagger away from me!
“You donotget to tell me I’m a father and just expect me to go back to my little corner while you carry on with life as usual.” His impassioned words come out on a thunderous growl. “I willnotjust step aside and be a deadbeatbecause that’s what’s most convenient for you. I have the right to—”
When my bottom lip begins to quiver, Easton abruptly stops his rant. He pulls in a breath and when he speaks again the sharp edge in his voice has softened considerably. “He’s my kid, Alba. I want to be in my son’s life. I’mgoing tobe in my son’s life.”
This conversation has shaken me to the core. But something within me tells me I have to fight back.
Yes, Easton is Jagger’s father…biologically. But legally, I have rights—at least until some judge waltzes in and takes them away from me. So, I can’t just let this big tower of a man march in and start making the rules, can I?
I have to do what’s best for my nephew.
My brain switches back online and I return to the conversation at hand. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” I croak out. Then I try to bargain with him. “How about we start with a paternity test?” I ask awkwardly. “Just to confirm everything in order to make it official?”
“Alba…”
Good heavens.
The way this man growls my name.
“I don’t need a paternity test to see that those are my dimples. And my hair. And my eyes,” Easton protests. “Heck, my mom took one look and knew before I figured it out.”
He’s right. Jagger looks like Easton’s mini-me. Still, I continue to grasp at straws. I’m trying to buy myself some time here.
“Easton, please. You can’t just rip that boy away from the only home he’s ever known. That would devastate him. Jagger is sensitive and sweet and being torn away from Fairy Bush would devastate him.”
Easton’s eyes close momentarily and he shakes his head. “Shit, Alba. You make it sound like I’m going to Mars or something. I just…” His jaw works and I can tell that he’s struggling so hard to keep his emotions at bay. “You can’t expect me to just walk away from my son. I already feel like I’m eight years too late. I’m just hoping we can do this in an amicable way. Without getting nasty about it.”
Without this turning into a legal battle.
That’s the part he’s not saying out loud. But he’d be willing to take it there if I don’t cooperate voluntarily. I can see that from the fire in his expression as we stare each other down, neither of us willing to budge.
Our staredown continues a while longer. But Easton is the first to crack.
“Alba, please…” he rasps in a desperate, throaty voice that takes me completely off-guard. His eyes are practically begging me.
At his display of vulnerability, I can feel my resolve breaking. I don’t know if I’m thrown off balance by his determination to do the right thing. Or if I’m simply discombobulated by the unexpected wave of awareness that just hit me between the thighs.
What the hell? What the hell is that?!
Seeing this ferociously protective side of Easton clearly has my ovaries feeling confused. It must be some visceral, primitive thing that’s messing with my body. Nothing I can’t keep under control, though.
I stare into those endless pale blue eyes, trying to figure this man out. What’s his endgame here? Is he intrigued by the idea of playing dad for the summer until he can get back to his regular life? Or is he genuine about having a role in Jagger’s life?
“Let me spend time with my son, Alba,” he’s saying now, his voice gentle but firm at the same time.
