Page 31 of Michael: The Hawthornes

“So you came here.”

“No,” I said softly, shaking my head. “It took a while longer, because I had to save up to get here. I’ve been saving since I knew that Rhett was coming home with me. It was the only money that I refused to touch, no matter what. I saved a little with every paycheck. Sometimes, I didn’t have more than a few dollars to add.”

“You could’ve fuckin’ called,” he argued angrily, taking a step forward. “You know I woulda come and got you.”

“I had no idea what your phone number was,” I said, embarrassment making my cheeks grow hot. “And I had to do it myself.”

“You had to do it yourself?” he spat. “I didn’t get the last two years with my son because you had to save pennies until you had enough to drive up here?”

I wasn’t sure how to make him understand. I’d been so dependent on my parents for everything, so boxed in by what they wanted, I hadn’t been able to reach out to him. I’d been so afraid when Rhett was a baby that I’d step out of line and they’d cut me off completely. I’d imagined a hundred worst-case scenarios where I’d contact Mick and he’d want nothing to do with us, but they’d kick us out for even attempting it. Saving up had been the only way that had felt safe, knowing that at some point, I could just go, and damn the consequences. It was my way out. Our way out.

Explaining all that to a man who’d been raised by parents that loved him and supported him no matter what… impossible. Half the time, I didn’t even fully understand the choices I’d made.

“I did the best I could,” I said huskily. “I got him here as soon as I could.”

“If you would’ve given my son up for adoption without me even knowin’ he existed,” Mick murmured, shaking his head.

“I know,” I said softly. “I knew the minute I saw his face that I’d never be able to do that—not to either of us.”

“I wake up one day, and you’re gone again. There’s not one place on this earth I won’t find you,” he ground out. “You understand that, right?”

How many nights had I laid awake, wishing that he’d show up at our door? A hundred? A thousand? I’d sat up by the window nursing Rhett, watching for headlights.

“Is that a promise?” I asked, my voice cracking. His expression softened.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

It only took two steps for him to reach me, less than a second for his hands to tangle in my hair, and a single breath before his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was a mixture of everything I remembered and nothing I’d ever known. Forceful. Desperate. The sweet boy I’d known, who’d kissed me the way I liked, was gone. This was a man who kissed howheliked. I wasn’t complaining, though, because it was a million times better than any kiss we’d ever had before.

I was struggling for air and unsteady on my feet when he jerked away abruptly.

“Go to bed,” he ordered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I stared at the way his pulse thrummed heavily at the side of his neck. “I don’t know where we’re sleeping,” I stuttered. I wanted to kiss that spot. Suck it between my teeth. Bite it.

It was just a kiss, and it hadn’t even lasted that long, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so turned on. My lips felt swollen and hot. The rest of me was on fire.

“Pick a fuckin’ room,” he snapped, turning his back to me. “Go, Emilia.”

I hesitated, watching as he reached down to grip the edge of the sink. He was struggling with something, but I couldn’t decide if it was the urge to throw me on the floor and fuck my brains out or toss me out of his house.

Taking what I considered the safest route, I hurried out of the kitchen, barely glancing at my surroundings as I made my way to Rhett. He hadn’t moved from the position I’d left him in, his arms flung above his head with his blanket weaved in between his shoulder and neck and wrapped halfway around his torso. I held back a grunt as I lifted him into my arms.

“Let’s find a bed,” I whispered, kissing the side of his head.

Not going to lie, carrying him up the stairs was a bit of a struggle, but I managed it. Instinctively I went straight to my old bedroom door and swung it wide without hesitation, but froze when I realized that I really needed to stop thinking of the house as mine.

My little bedroom with the purple walls, window seat, and tiny closet was gone, and in its place was a massive bedroom with what looked like a connected walk-in closet and bathroom.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, backing out of the room. I stood for a moment in the dark hallway contemplating my options. There were four other doors to choose from, I just needed to pick one and see what I found.

What followed was me snooping through Mick’s upstairs. I wasn’t proud of it, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. The bathroom had been updated from a plain white tub to a sleek shower with glass doors and one of the fanciest showerheads I’d ever seen. Tile had replaced the old linoleum. Even the sink and toilet had been updated.

The second door was a linen closet, and I gave a little chuckle of relief when I realized that it was the one thing he hadn’t changed. It still had four wooden shelves that were piled high with towels and sheets and blankets.

The third door had been the guest bedroom when I was a kid and still was, but that was where the similarities ended. The room had been expanded, making it almost twice as big as it had been before with an added walk-in closet. The walls were a different color, the carpet had been replaced, even the light fixture was different.

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