What the hell did he just say to me?

“She’s yours.”

“She’s yours.”

“She’s yours.”

“Dude, are you fucking listening to me?”

Inside, my brain is a mess and refusing to compute the information. Closing my eyes, momentarily, I try to slowly process this information and ignore the heat trapped underneath my robe, causing me to hyperventilate.

There’s a baby—yes.

And Flynn is telling me it’s mine.

Not possible.

“I said, are you listening to me?” Flynn repeats, harshly.

“I’m listening,” I yell back. “But what the hell do you mean she’s mine?”

“Yours.” Flynn lowers his gaze toward the baby, quiet and non-responsive. Moments later, through a thickening voice, he explains, “Milly gave birth three weeks ago. The baby came early or something. I thought she was doing okay, but she’s just ran off. Came to visit me yesterday. It’s because Mom’s not doing the best, and it’s all fucked up.” He begins to sob, panicked and gasping for air. Watching a grown man brought to tears is enough to hold my attention, but I don’t know how to comfort him.

“If I don’t show up for Coachella today, I’m fucked. I can’t take care of this baby.”

It’s like someone switched on the information overload. My mind can’t keep up, spitting out random questions in order to piece together this fucked-up puzzle.

“What? What do you mean Milana is gone?”

“Gone. Exactly that. She wrote me a letter…” He grabs a scrunched-up paper from his pocket but doesn’t read it out loud. “Take care of her, please. I can’t cope… my sister… my mom… I don’t know how to take care of a baby.” He pushes the carrier into my chest, and with quick thinking, I grab onto the handle before he lets go. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just take her, I need to go. I’ll be back tonight, and we can talk more.”

I stare down at the baby again. My stomach is churning from the sheer panic of taking care of this baby that’s supposedly mine.

As he begins to walk away toward his car, I shout anxiously, “You can’t leave her with me!”

Flynn stops in his tracks, turning around to face me. “She’s your daughter, Wesley, not mine. There’s no greater love than that from your own father, trust me, I know. So, if you want to do something right for once, take her, now, when she needs you the most.”

He turns back, only for me to yell at him one more time. “Wait, what’s her name?”

Without turning around, he stops, posture slumped, and his head falling forward. “Katerina. She’s named after our mom.” The sadness lingers in his tone, and after a quick moment of silence between us, he walks to his car and drives off.

As soon as his car is out of sight, the baby begins to stir.

What the fuck do I do?

Okay, breathe.

Take her inside, that will be the first step. I grab the carrier and the bag beside her, a balancing act which has me almost dropping the carrier. Placing the carrier on the lounge, I sit beside it and gaze at her face.

I have no connection to this kid. I thought that when you have babies, you supposedly look at them and became overwhelmed with this love that’s impossible to explain.

My anger toward Milana overshadows this moment.

How the hell did she keep this from me?

We were careful, used protection most of the time. I recall her telling me, ‘She takes the pill religiously,’ and she ‘Has no interest in starting a family,’ Odd, yet I respected that decision at the time. I only brought it up occasionally because I thought that’s what all women wanted to hear, and keep her, I had to sacrifice a little, or a lot.

Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net