Chapter 2
“I’m Lila,” she said, her voice cracking. “This is Leo. He’s Ethan’s son.”
The words hung in the cold rain, sharp as a knife.
I stared at her, then at the baby, then back at her. My mind spun. Ethan had a son? A three-month-old son, born exactly when Ethan…
Oh God.
He was born the day Ethan died.
“I’m so sorry,” Lila sobbed, shifting Leo higher on her chest. “I wanted to come sooner. I was so scared. Ethan said his dad would never accept us. That he’d call me a liar, try to take Leo away.”
I sank to my knees in the mud beside her, not caring that my dress was ruined. I reached out a shaking hand, brushing a finger against Leo’s soft cheek. He stirred, letting out a tiny gurgle, and that dimple popped again.
It was Ethan. Right there, in this tiny baby.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” I whispered, tears mixing with rain on my face. “I would have loved you both. I would have done anything.”
Lila cried harder. “He was going to. The day he… he died. He was on his way to your house. He said he was finally going to tell you everything. That he didn’t care what his dad said anymore. He was just so happy about Leo.”
A sob tore out of me.
All this time, I’d thought Ethan had been driving to the library that day. His dad had told me that. Said he’d been rushing to finish a paper for pre-med, lost control of the car.
It had all been a lie.
I looked at Lila. Really looked at her. She was thin, her clothes worn, her hands chapped from the cold. There were dark circles under her eyes, and when she shifted Leo, I saw the edge of a car seat peeking out from behind the headstone, stuffed with a garbage bag of clothes.
“Where have you been living?” I asked, my voice tight.
She hesitated, then looked down. “My car. For the last month. I got evicted. I didn’t have anyone else.”
Rage burned through me, hot and sharp. Rage at my husband for whatever he’d done to scare Ethan so badly he’d hidden his own child. Rage at myself for not seeing how much pain my son had been in. Rage at the world for taking him before he could hold his son, before we could be a family.
“Come home with me,” I said, standing and holding out a hand to her.
Her eyes went wide. “I can’t. Your husband—”
“My husband doesn’t get a say in this,” I said, and for the first time in twenty-five years of marriage, I meant it. “This is my grandson. And you are part of our family now. No one is going to hurt you or Leo ever again.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then took my hand. Her fingers were ice cold.
I picked up the muddy daisies, tucking them into the grass at the base of Ethan’s headstone. Then I led Lila and Leo to my car, my heart pounding equal parts grief and hope.
May you like
Ethan had left us a piece of himself.
And I was going to fight like hell to protect it.
