Green eyes blinked up at him, hazy with shock. “Blake?”
Cleo Bowden.
His ex-girlfriend. Ex-fiancée. Ex-mother of his child.
It had been four years since Blake had last spoken to her. Their last conversation had been stilted and awkward to the point of physical pain. It’d been right before Cleo transferred schools and moved to Atlanta. Her grandparents lived there, and her parents thought it would be good for her to get away from the bad memories. Cleo had been a shell of herself, withdrawn and in pain. Blake had been spiraling, consumed by guilt and self-hatred.
Two broken people who should’ve never been together, united by tragedy.
“I didn’t know you were in Austin,” Blake managed to say.
Did his family know she was back in town? No. If they did, they would’ve told him. Plus, they’d lost touch with Cleo a long time ago. It’d been too painful for the Ryans and the Bowdens to be around each other, knowing there was one less person in their family.
Because of me.
“I moved back a few months ago.” Cleo looked good. Glowing, even. Her face and figure had filled out since their college days, but the catlike eyes and dark ringlets remained the same. “After, well.” She gestured at herself with a blush.
It took Blake a minute to figure out what she was pointing to. When he did, his heart stopped.
Cleo wore a long, flowy dress that camouflaged it well, but now that he looked closer, it was unmistakable. A baby bump.
“I’m sorry.” A hint of sympathy crept into the doctor’s eyes as Cleo gripped Blake’s hand so hard he flinched. “I’m afraid you’ll no longer be able to have children.”
“H-how?” Blake didn’t believe in miracles, but he’d heard the doctor with his own ears. The car accident had rendered Cleo infertile. Too much damage to her fallopian tubes. Yet here she was, basking in the glow only expecting mothers had.
The whole situation was surreal.
“IVF. In vitro fertilization. The first time didn’t work. Second time did, against all odds.” Cleo’s eyes swam. “Kind of a miracle, huh?”
“Yeah.” He squeezed the word past the lump in his throat. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” Blake meant it. One of the things that’d haunted him most from that night was knowing he’d fucked up Cleo’s future and dreams of starting a family.
Some of the guilt in his stomach eased. There was a shit ton left, but he felt just the tiniest bit lighter. “Who’s the father?”
Cleo’s ears pinked. “My accountant. I know what you’re thinking,” she rushed to add. “But he’s sweet. Stable. I could use stability in my life.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and the diamond on her finger flashed beneath the lights. “We got married last summer,” Cleo explained when she saw Blake’s questioning glance. “We moved to Austin after I got pregnant because my parents wanted me close, and they couldn’t move to Georgia because of my dad’s job, so here I am.”
“That’s great.”
There was a beat of silence before they both issued awkward laughs.
“Man, this is crazy.” Blake rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I’ve…well, I’ve always wondered how you were doing.”
Blood. Metal. Screams.
His ears rang with faded memories.
“I was in a dark place for a while,” Cleo admitted. “I took some time off school, too. There’ll always be a part of me that—” She swallowed. “Anyway, losing a child is not something you ever get over, but I’ve found my peace.” She searched his face. “And you? How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Heard you’re the king of the sports club world now.” Her mouth tilted up in a small smile.
“Hardly,” Blake said, even though he kind of was.
“Don’t be humble. You never were good at it,” she teased. Cleo fiddled with her shopping basket. “Listen, Blake. I’ve had a lot of time to think over these past few years, and there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
Guilt flitted through her eyes, which didn’t make sense. What did she have to be guilty about?
Blake had been the one behind the wheel. He’d been the one who’d insisted they drive to Cleo’s place after he and his father had some ridiculous argument, even though it’d been storming so hard you couldn’t hear yourself over the rain. He’d swerved to avoid a deer, smashed into a tree, and killed both their son and relationship in one go.
He hadn’t done it on purpose, but the guilt had weighed on his conscience every night since, especially when Blake remembered his prayer. He’d woken up at three a.m. one night before the accident, drenched with sweat at the thought of becoming an unexpected father at age twenty-two, and sent a silent missive to the heavens.
Please make this all go away.
A week later, the accident happened.
Blake hadn’t been thinking miscarriage. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d just been panicked and exhausted, and even though he wasn’t a super religious person, he couldn’t help but wonder if the accident had been God’s way of punishing him for his shitty, selfish, off-the-cuff prayer.
“Can you meet me at our old place tonight?” Cleo glanced around. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”
Their old place—the playground they’d frequented as teenagers, back in the good old days when they were nothing more than friends. They used to stay up through the night, swinging on the swings and staring at the sky, musing about what their futures would look like.
Neither had expected things to turn out the way they did.
“Of course.” Curiosity burned a hole in Blake’s stomach. Before he could ask her for more information, the scent of Old Spice assaulted his senses.
Blake winced. He only knew one person who wore Old Spice.
“Blake Ryan.” Daniel Bowden’s scowl could’ve melted stone. “Didn’t know you’d crawled back into town.”
“Dad,” Cleo hissed.
“Cleo, go meet your mother at the checkout counter.”
“Dad, leave Blake alone. We just ran into each other.”
“Now, Cleo!”
She grit her teeth but did as he bid. Playground, eight o’clock, she mouthed behind Daniel’s back.
Blake blinked his agreement.
Once Cleo was out of earshot, Daniel jabbed a finger at Blake’s chest. To most people, he was an intimidating man. Six feet four inches of corded muscle and fiery energy, all of which he aimed at his daughter’s ex.
He’d liked Blake well enough when he’d dated Cleo. Hated him when he broke Cleo’s heart. Fucking loathed him after the accident.
It’d been a rapid and ugly fall for the relationship between Blake and his ex-future-father-in-law, and if there was one thing Daniel Bowden was good at, it was holding grudges.
“Mr. Bowden—”
“Shut up,” Daniel growled. “And stay away from my daughter. I don’t want you talking to her. I don’t want you even looking at her. You’ve hurt her enough. She’s finally found someone who treats her right, and I will not let you screw that up.”
“I wasn’t plan—”
Daniel continued like Blake wasn’t speaking, and his next words turned Blake’s blood to ice.
“You’ve been toying with her emotions since you were old enough to vote, and I won’t let you mess things up for her again. Because that’s what you do. You screw up people’s lives. The world sees a golden pretty boy, but I see you for what you really are: a black star, a heartbreaker, and a selfish bastard. You hurt everyone around you and, what’s worse, you can’t help yourself. It’s just what you do.”
The full moon hung round and heavy in the sky; in the distance, a dog howled, and the swings creaked in the quiet night, adding to the horror movie atmosphere draped over the empty playground.
Empty except for Blake and Cleo, who sat side by side on the swings.
Their old teenage stomping grounds.
How simple life had been back then, when all they’d had to worry about was where to apply to college and who they were going to prom with.
“Forgive my dad,” Cleo said. “I don’t know what he said to you, but I can imagine. He’s a little overprotective.”
“I don’t blame him.” Blake threw her a lopsided smile, like Daniel Bowden’s words hadn’t carved themselves into his heart with a sharp, poison-tipped pen.
It was never the lies that were lethal. No matter how scandalous or widespread, lies fell short of piercing the armor of righteousness, because you knew—even if no one else did—that what your enemy was saying rang false. No, it was the dark truths that were most dangerous, the ones you couldn’t admit to yourself until someone said them out loud for you. They forced you to face your demons, the ones you’d hoped would stay locked up forever. But once they were out, there was no putting them back.
They were there to haunt you for the rest of your life.
“He’s gone overboard since…you know.” Cleo’s lashes swept down. “Thank God Peter —my husband—and I have our own place, or I’d go nuts. Anyway.” She laughed nervously. “Enough about my dad. That’s not why we’re here.” Guilt crept back into her eyes, along with a healthy dose of nerves. “Like I said, I have something I want to tell you.”
“Me too.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Before you say anything, I have something I need to tell you.” Blake sucked in a breath. Oxygen filled his lungs, and he forced the words out before the air left his body. “What happened the night of the storm—”
Pain slashed across Cleo’s face. “Blake, don’t.”
He pushed on. He had to say it and get it off his chest. Otherwise, his guilt would crush him, inch by inch, until there was nothing left. “It was my fault. All of it. I know you said you don’t blame me, but I prayed for something like that to happen. I mean, not a car accident, and certainly not for you to get hurt. But I asked for God to make it all go away and—” His throat constricted. “I’m sorry. I’ve been running all these years, avoiding you, because I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face what I did. I’m the reason you miscarried. I killed our son.”
A sob escaped Cleo’s throat. She pressed her fist to her mouth and shook her head. “That’s what I should’ve told you,” she said, her voice wretched with agony. “He wasn’t your son.”
