She sank down to the kitchen floor, and pulled hard at the cuticle of her middle finger with her teeth. Valerie just had to believe her. She had to.
Alex didn’t know about that night she’d found the bastard crying at the cemetery. And she’d die rather than hurt Alex. Besides, Colton was Alex’s son.
At least, it was possible that Colton was his son. If she’d been late before she got pregnant.
Alex was in the delivery room when Colton was born. He’d been the one to bring her home, care for them both, support them both. He was home every night, helping with baths, watching Susan feed their baby, planning for his future.
Alex was Colton’s father. His name was on the birth certificate.
Valerie asked a couple of pointed questions. And then rang off, telling Susan not to worry. The jerk didn’t have a leg to stand on and Valerie was going to knock it out from under him, anyway.
Arms wrapped around herself, Susan left the phone on the floor and let all the tears fall.
She’d hoped the pain was behind her.
And was beginning to believe it would never be.
HER AFTERNOON CALENDAR behind her, Valerie picked up the phone to make a couple of calls on behalf of Susan Douglas, but it rang before she could punch in a number.
“Hello?”
“Mom, it’s Blake.”
“Hi, Blake!” Valerie’s heart jumped. “Tryouts over so soon?”
Sitting there at her desk in her navy silk suit with the matching two-inch-heeled pumps, her judicial robe on a hanger not three feet away, she crossed her fingers like a little kid.
“Yeah, we just got home.”
Blake didn’t sound heartbroken, but…
“So?”
“I made the team.”
“Oh, Blake, I’m so proud of you guys! I knew you’d get it.” With a grin so big her cheeks hurt, Valerie breathed her first easy breath of the day. “When do practices start?”
“Right away. Coach thinks we can win a lot but he says we have to practice hard.”
Sounded good to her. Brian was going to have to eat if he wanted to play.
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
She had some leverage. Something to give Brian motivation. Something to begin building the self-esteem his father had done so much to destroy, although neither boy had been fully aware of the damage.
And Blake! He’d finally put forth the effort to get something he wanted. And been rewarded.
She could just kiss the crossing-guard coach.
“What’s your coach’s name?”
“Kirk.”
“Kirk what?”
“I don’t know. He told us to call him Kirk.”
Kirk it was. She could hardly wait to drop the boys off in the morning and give the man her utmost thanks.