“No.” I shake my head, then—because he’s there, looking tall, strong, and able—I fall into his arms, which don’t hesitate to wrap around me. I burrow my face against his chest and dig my fingers into his tee as I start to cry. All the stress, sadness, anger, and hurt causes the tears I’ve been holding back ever since I found out I was pregnant to soak his shirt.
Without a word, he rubs my back; then I’m up in his arms and being carried like a child up the stairs and into the lodge. In the back of my mind, a voice is screaming at me, telling me that I should pull away and tell him that I’m okay, that I’m a big girl who can handle her own problems. But there’s something about him that feels good, solid . . . safe.
When he takes a seat and adjusts me across his lap, he palms the side of my head, holding me firmly in place as I sob. I don’t know how long we sit there like that, and I don’t know what he says to me as I cry, even though I can hear his chest rumble against my ear. When the tears finally start to subside, my muscles bunch as I realize what an idiot I’ve been in front of him and that now I’m going to have to explain why I had a meltdown—at work, of all places.
“My dad has cancer.” His words cut through the embarrassment and silence that have settled between us, and my heart hurts for a different reason. “He doesn’t want anyone to know.” His thumb, wrapped around the side of my neck, rubs up and down in a soothing motion, like I’m the one who still needs comfort. “It’s been almost a year; he’s in treatment now.” Pain slices through my chest, and I squeeze my eyes closed and press closer to him, even though I doubt we could get any closer than we are right now.
“Lying to my mom and sister is killing me, but he doesn’t want to worry them.”
“Blake,” I whisper, knowing that saying sorry will never be enough, and his warm breath touches the top of my head as his arms, still holding me, grow tighter.
“Sucks. I love my dad. I love my family.”
“I know,” I whisper, because even having never met his father, I have gotten to see him with both his mom and his sister, and I can tell how much he loves them.
“Please don’t tell anyone about what I just told you.”
“Never.” I pull back just enough to look him in the eye, and his brow furrows. I’m sure I look a mess, but given what he’s just said, my appearance doesn’t really matter at the moment. “I do hate that you’re keeping that secret.” My fingers twitch in my lap with the urge to reach up and smooth the lines between his brows. “I understand why you’re doing it, but it’s also not fair to put you in that position.” When he doesn’t say anything, I shift uncomfortably, which reminds me that I’m still sitting on his lap. “Sorry.” I move and take a seat next to him, adjusting my sweater, then swipe my palms down the front of my jeans. “I didn’t mean to cry all over you.” I wipe under my eyes, doubting my nonwaterproof mascara has stayed in place.
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
I bite my lip and quickly glance at him over my shoulder.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” I say quietly as my hands twist in my lap. “My ex called me this morning.” I take a breath, needing a moment to get my thoughts in order, a moment to try to figure out how to explain things. “He didn’t want to be a dad, and since I wanted to be a mom, things didn’t work out.” I glance at him once more when he doesn’t say anything. His expression gives nothing away, and I don’t know if that makes me feel more relaxed or more on edge. “When I told him I was leaving, he was okay to see me go, and I hadn’t spoken to him since, before today.”
“You hadn’t talked to him since you’ve been here?” he asks, sounding disgusted and irritated on my behalf.
“No. Like I said, he didn’t want to be a father.”
“Right,” he grumbles, and I fight back a smile.
“Anyway.” I pull in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Today, he called to tell me that he told his mom about Sampson, and she wants to meet him.”
“She wants to meet him?” I turn to face him at the repeat of my statement and notice his jaw is clenched. “What did you say?”
“I hung up on him, then proceeded to have a meltdown,” I admit, and he reaches for my hand, which I give to him willingly.