Dirty Secret (The Burke Brothers #1)(6)
Author: Emma Hart

She glares at me despite the longing in her gaze, and then, a baby cries. A scream of “Mama,” and my heart stops. Shock courses through my body, and I shove my foot in the door before she can slam it.

“Sofie?”

“Go away!” she cries, throwing all her weight into the door.

I move my foot and it slams, deafeningly, the sound echoing through me.

She’s got a kid.

A fucking kid.

I stare at the door, hearing her quiet sobs as she tries to soothe a baby I never knew about.

I want to knock on that door. I want to smack so hard on the glass that it smashes, because she’s got a goddamn motherfucking kid.

My Sofie. Has a kid.

I keep staring, my heart thumping, my stomach in knots at seeing her again. I turn away, despite the urge still begging my fist to tear through that glass. Is that why she left? A baby?

Mine?

Someone else’s?

Did she leave because the kid isn’t mine? Fuck.

“Crap. Crap crap crap crap!”

I lean against Mila’s closed bedroom door and slide down it until my butt hits the floor and I’m hugging my knees. My hands are trembling harder than they ever have before.

Seeing him there, in front of me, has shaken me right to my core. He looked exactly like a memory come to life, only better. Hotter. Sexier. Infinitely more . . . Conner.

His hair is still messy, his eyes still startlingly blue. They still betray every emotion he hides in his words, and I saw them all. Shock, bitterness, disbelief, anger, hurt. Each one flickered in and out of his gaze until he heard Mila and shock took over.

But it was his jaw I noticed most. The one difference in his face, the strong curve I’ve kissed every inch of. It was once smooth, perfectly clean-shaven, but now it’s rough, ghosted with the shadow of a few forgotten shaves.

He’s still tall and built, though. His shoulders are wider and his biceps are more defined. His half sleeve peeked out from beneath his shirtsleeve, and my eyes found it instantly, the intricate design I once traced over and over as I lay in his arms.

I wanted to reach out to him, run the pad of my thumb against the roughness of his jaw, to touch him. The urge burned me, and every second I fought that urge it hurt even more. It hurt until it became the dull, throbbing ache I feel with every beat of my heart right now.

Because standing in front of him, the guy I loved so intensely, knowing the secrets I hold and the pain I’ve caused, and not being able to ease that pain or spill those secrets, hit me so fucking hard.

I didn’t see it coming, because I didn’t expect it—the pain. I honestly didn’t think it would hurt so much for him to see me again. It shouldn’t have. I’m the one that’s had something to hold on to while he’s spent two and half years wondering where the hell I’ve been.

I didn’t believe it before, that he’d wondered. I thought he might have cared for a while, then moved on with his new rock-star life, living the stereotypical dream with girls and booze and whatever else it is they do. His being here tonight proved wrong everything I’ve lived thinking since I left.

I should have known better. I should have known that wouldn’t be Conner.

Him coming here tonight, not even an hour since he arrived home, tells me everything.

It tells me he still hurts and he hasn’t forgiven me. That he’s not over it, that he’s bitter and angry, and he’s completely freakin’ entitled to that. It also tells me he didn’t believe that I’m back, and that seeing me was the only way he could really convince himself.

He has every right to feel that way. I’m the one that has to shoulder the blame. I’m the one with the groveling and shit to do. Not him. I’m the one who has to pull on the big-girl panties and face up to the decisions I made, whether I’m ready to or not.

Because me and Conner? We don’t matter. We’re not important. Only Mila is. And this is sooner than I ever imagined I’d tell him, but I can’t live here and have him only minutes away without him knowing about his daughter.

Not like earlier when I slammed the door in his face because I panicked.

Crap only knows what he’s thinking now.

Hell, I don’t even know what I’m thinking right now, and I’m not the one knee-deep in questions.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Wondering why you’re here, to be honest.” I jam my foot behind the door.

A smirk tugs at Leila’s bright red lips. “My best friend turned up after two and a half years. I’m here to see if you’re ready to talk.”

“Not about what you want, and not to you.”

“Ouch. Go easy on me, why don’t you.”

I sigh and rest my head against the door. “I don’t mean it that way, Lei. There are other people who deserve answers more than you.”

“I know.” She shrugs. “It pisses me off, but I know.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere. Like, I don’t know. Where do you take kids?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Uh, the park?”

“That’s it!” She grins. “You wanna take Mila to the park?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. “I was considering maybe buying some stuff for the yard for her.”

“So you’re staying?”

“Maybe.”

“Riiiiight.” The way she draws the word out instantly calls me on my bullshit. “Well, do you want to or not?”

Mila giggles from the front room and I sigh. “There are too many . . . people.”

Leila meets my eyes. “So, what? You’re gonna keep her hidden away in this house because you don’t want to deal with the assholes in this town?”

“Your language is awful,” I mutter. “But yeah, that was kinda my plan.”

“Hell no.” She darts past me. “Hey, beautiful! Wanna go play on the slide?”

I hiss out a string of mumbled curses. Slide is to Mila what eight hours uninterrupted sleep is to me: a dream come true.

“Slide? Park? Mama, yeah!” The cheerful sound of her clapping reaches my ears.

Another sigh. And maybe a curse. I walk into the front room. “Okay, okay. We’ll go to the park with Leila. Where’s Dolly?”

“Dance, dance.” Mila points to the TV, where Dirty B. are playing—yet again—and wiggles her butt.

I hide my smile when Leila meets my eye. “She has good taste.” I force the words out.