I mean, not that I really ever thought that was a possibility. It’d been a sexy fantasy, though.
But now I doubted I’d ever even hear from him again.
It was just as well. Jake already had a dad who’d rejected him, I’d be damned if I’d ever let another man do the same.
Chapter Thirty
Gabe
My hands shook the entire drive home, and I tried to figure out why seeing her son had such an effect on me.
Obviously, I’d seen toddlers in the seven years since Bodhi died; what was it about Gretchen’s little boy that had me so rattled?
Maybe it was because I wasn’t expecting her to have a kid.
Or maybe I’d let myself have a tiny sliver of hope that I could be the man she was looking for. The reality of what that looked like had smacked me upside the head.
So much for that little daydream.
I’d been right—having another kid wasn’t for me. I’d leave that to my gazillionaire brother.
After pulling into the garage and shutting my truck off, I heard the roar of Derrick’s car exhaust as he pulled up behind me.
My little brother hopped out as soon as he shut the car off and approached where I stood in the garage.
“What are you doing? I thought you had to get to Flannigan’s?”
He shook his head with a solemn expression.
“Flannigan’s can wait. I needed to check on you first. Are you okay?”
I blew out a long breath. I knew I’d behaved poorly at Gretchen’s, but I’d had to get out of there.
“No, not really.”
Derrick gripped my shoulder and directed me toward the door leading to the house.
“Come on, let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I grumbled even as I let him steer me inside.
“Sure there is,” he said as we walked through the threshold and into the kitchen. “We can discuss the weather, politics, the Celtics, the Red Sox, or the Bruins. We can even talk shit about your ex-wife, if you want.” He plopped onto a stool at the kitchen island and motioned for me to do the same. When I was seated, he swiveled so he faced me. “Or we can just sit and stare at each other; it doesn’t matter to me. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
I snorted. “I’m fine.”
“You looked like you’d seen a ghost when Gretchen’s little boy showed up.”
My gaze fell to the black flecks in the granite countertop, and I uttered, “Because it felt like I had.”
“It probably didn’t help that we’d just been talking about Bodhi this morning.”
“No, probably not.”
“Are you still seeing Dr. Frank?”
I shook my head. “Not in a few years.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess you’ll have to make do with some Mitchell therapy then.”
