The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“It wasn’t your fault,” I continued. “They saw what they wanted to see. But you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“Whatever you need,” he said roughly. “You and him… I’ll take care of you both. You won’t have to do this alone.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” I said. “I had help. Mama and Bibi and the money you gave me. The only way I would spend it was to take care of August and to make sure the business stayed afloat to support us. To build something for you to come home to.”

He shook his head, years of regret still hanging heavily over him. “You’re so brave, Shiloh. So fucking brave.”

“I hardly ever feel brave. I think scared shitless and exhausted are my default settings.” I laced my hand in his. There was a scar on one of his knuckles that hadn’t been there before. “I just did what I had to do. Like you.” I kissed the scar and pressed his fingers to my cheek. “How bad was it?”

“I did what I had to do,” he said with a shrug that told me it was harder than he’d ever let on. “I got a degree.”

“You did?”

“They have adult education programs at San Quentin. I got an AA in Business Management. It didn’t make sense, even as I was doing it. I thought I was serving ten years and that you and I were…done.”

“Impossible.”

“Something told me to keep going. To get the degree and not give up.”

“You were building something to come home to, too.”

“Home,” he said, like he didn’t know what the word meant.

“Yes, home. You and me and Bibi and our little boy. You have a home now. A family, if you want it.” I swallowed hard. “Do you…want that?”

Do you want to be his daddy?

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he struggled to contain the emotion I could feel rising in him.

“Christ, Shiloh,” he said tightly. “I thought having you back would be the best thing that could ever happen to me. But seeing him…” He heaved a shaky sigh. “I had no idea I could feel like this.”

“Like…happy?”

“So fucking happy, it doesn’t feel real.”

A little sob erupted from my throat, and Ronan’s arms went around me and pulled me in, letting me feel the solidity and permanence of him for the first time. I sagged in relief, so strong, it left me weak while the purest joy rushed in. I clung to him, my Ronan, who gave everything and asked for nothing in return. Who’d lived his entire life in an empty void so that he didn’t trust the love that was his or believe he deserved it.

He kissed me then, the sweetest, best kiss of my life. The kiss that sealed our promises and tears that washed three years away and let us start again.

“Come on,” I said, tugging him to his feet. “You need to meet your son properly.”

“You keep saying those words, and my fucking heart explodes.”

“Wait until he calls you Daddy for the first time.”

“Christ…”

We stepped back inside the house. Bibi was bustling around the kitchen. Mama sat with August on her lap on the floor, the two of them going through a huge picture book.

“Is that them?” Bibi called, sounding nervous. “Are they back?”

“We’re back,” I said.

“Hey, Bibi. Marie,” Ronan said in a low voice.

“Hello, honey,” Bibi said, shuffling into the dining area. Her hands twisted in front of her like she didn’t know what to do with herself, and I realized she’d been waiting for this day just as much as I had been. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. How are you doing? Big day, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his gaze glued to August. “Yeah,” he said faintly. “The biggest.”