Page 35 of One Pucking Secret
Wyatt nods. “It’s the worst. But it’s nothing a little medicine and rest can’t fix.”
A smile spreads on Jasper’s pale face, albeit weak. “Mommy has plenty of medicine for me in case I get sick.”
Wyatt chuckles. “You’re pretty cute, kid. How old are you?”
My lips part as I anxiously tighten my hold on the tie of my robe.
“I’m seven,” Jasper mumbles, one hand gripping Wyatt’s. “I’m in first grade.”
“Seven?” Wyatt repeats, and he blinks a few times as if to make sure he’s heard correctly.
Suddenly the air stills, thickens, becomes something tangible between Wyatt’s slow turn and my hesitant step forward. His eyes lock onto mine, blue ice rimmed with betrayal, and I feel the floor tilt beneath me. In his gaze, questions form, unspoken yet deafening, and I stand mute, the truth a heavy stone in my throat.
He knows.
Chapter 12
Wyatt
The air crackles withmy fury as I stomp into Chloe’s bedroom, the door slamming against the wall like a warning shot. My hands tremble, not from the chill of the room, but from the ice in my veins.
“Wyatt, just let me explain,” she pleads, her voice trailing after me like the lapels of the robe she clutches at her chest.
“You hid a child from me.Mychild,” I spit out, my words slicing through the tension.
“Please,” Chloe begs, reaching out to me, her arm a desperate bridge I have no intention of crossing.
I’m grabbing my phone and wallet from the dresser with jerky, uncoordinated movements. Each action feels rough, fueled by a betrayal that robs me of grace. Her presence is an itch under my skin, and I can’t stand to be near her, to breathe the same air laced with lies.
“Wyatt—”
“Is Jasper mine?” The question comes out in a quiet roar, a dangerous undertone that suggests the calm before a storm.
She nods, her eyes wide, green pools of guilt. “He is.”
It’s like a punch to the gut, a physical blow that knocks the wind out of me. I feel the sting behind my eyes, the taste of copper in my mouth, and I swallow the burgeoning emotion like shards of glass.
“I can’t even look at you right now,” I tell her, my voice reduced to a venomous whisper. “I need to go.”
As I stride toward the door, defeat hangs heavy on her shoulders, a cloak that cannot shield her from my contempt. But there, wrapped in a blanket, is Jasper. His innocent blue eyes, so much like mine, call to me in my sea of rage.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, forcing warmth into my voice. “Hope you feel better soon, okay?”
His small nod is enough to fracture the last of my resolve, but I mend the cracks quickly, for his sake. With one last look at Jasper, I leave, the absence of a backward glance at Chloe a silent testament to the chasm between us now.
I slam the car door shut, my hands still trembling as I fumble for my phone. Thescreen lights up, and I dial Mark’s number, trying to steady my breathing.
“Mark, come over,” I rasp, a command more than a request. “It’s an emergency.”
“Everything okay?”
“I’ll explain when you get here. Please, just come now.”
“Give me fifteen,” he says, and the line goes dead.
The silence that follows is suffocating. I drop the phone into the passenger seat and start the car, the engine’s low hum the only sound cutting through the weight of the moment. Jasper. I have a son. The thought rewires everything, sending shockwaves through my mind. I pull out onto the road, the enormity of what just happened pressing down on me. Everything has changed.
How could she? Vulnerability has always been a luxury I couldn’t afford, but with Chloe, I’d let my guard down. And for what? To be blindsided?
