Page 42 of Cross Check Daddies
I grab my phone and shut it off without checking it. No texts. No missed calls. I can’t handle either.
Then I crawl into bed, curling up so small it hurts my ribs, and cry into the silence. Slow, choking sobs that twist their way out of me like smoke. I try to muffle them with the pillow, but they come anyway. A sound too raw to control.
Maybe Iamthe one who destroyed it all.
Cam and I were broken long before tonight. But we had a past, and I crushed it under the weight of a maybe. A maybe with his younger brother. A maybe Ilethappen.
Hell, I wanted it. Iinvitedit. Fuck! I screwed everything up. I should have stuck to my guns. I should never have entertained any of it.
The thought of him pressed against me sends a shiver down my spine.
I want to scream.
I wanted him. I wanted Cam’s little brother almost as much as I wanted Cam that night.What the hell is wrong with me?Why can’t my brain cooperate with my body?
And now… I don’t know how to be the version of me that doesn’t ruin the people I care about.
Sleep takes me eventually. Not peacefully. Not quietly. But in that exhausted, tear-damp way that feels like surrender.
I wake up to the soft weight of something warm against my side.
My eyes blink open in the low light. It’s still early—dawn spilling pale gold across the edges of the curtains. And next to me, curled up under the blanket, is Jackson.
His little hand is resting against my arm. His cheek is smushed into my pillow. His hair’s a mess of soft brown curls, and he’s breathing slow and even, the way only little kids can.
My throat tightens.
When did he crawl in? Did he hear me crying?
I shift carefully, brushing my hand through his hair, and he stirs just a little, but doesn’t wake.
He looks like his father when he sleeps. That same mouth, the same stubborn jaw. But there’s more light in Jackson. More softness.
I press my lips to his forehead and close my eyes again, anchoring myself in his steady breath.
What the hell do I do now?
Cam hates me.
Tanner kissed me like he meant it.
I kissed him back.
And this little boy beside me? He didn’t ask for any of it. He didn’t ask for a mom who keeps making the same mistakes. Who doesn’t know how to keep things simple. Who doesn’t know how to stay away from the wrong kind of fire.
I want to protect him from all of it. From the fallout. Fromme.
But right now, I don’t even know how to protect myself.
I hold him tighter and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know if I’m saying it to him or to myself.
Maybe both.
By the time I drop Jackson off and slide into my parking spot at the office, my head’s already aching with backlogged emails and a pitch deck I should’ve finished last night, not to mention the whole thing with the Kings.
My heels click across the tile as I enter the building, iced coffee sweating in one hand, the other adjusting the strap on my tote. The moment I walk through the doors, Lisa pops up from behind her desk.
