Next thing he knew, the oven timer was beeping, Zoey was clattering around the kitchen, and Ms. Bridges was perched on the edge of his leather sofa, while Amelia sprawled in his matching recliner, legs hooked over one of the thick armrests. A worn black backpack rested on the floor beside her, covered in marker doodles.
Linc paced by the door, his boots thudding on the hardwood floors. He tried not to stare, but Amelia was a dead ringer for Kirsten. How had he not seen it before? The waves in her hair, the narrow chin, the wide eyes with thick lashes—even the way she nibbled the cuticle of her thumbnail as she kicked one dirty shoe against the side of his chair.
“I don’t understand,” Linc muttered, paced, bumped the wall and spun to walk the other direction. “How could I be a father?”
Amelia huffed. “I took a health class in school last year that explains it, if you want my homework.”
“Amelia!” Ms. Bridges gasped.
“I understandthatpart.” Linc scowled. He ran a hand over his jaw. Why hadn’t Kirsten told him? Why had she never?—
“Here we go.” Zoey hurried back into the living room, carrying a tray laden with cookies that were miraculously not burned, a pitcher of water he’d never seen before in his life, and several plastic souvenir cups from Magnolia Blossom Café. “Let’s just all take a deep breath, hmm?” She shot Linc a pointed glare, as if the instructions were meant for him alone despite her general address.
Zoey deposited the tray on the coffee table, then sat next to Ms. Bridges on the couch. Linc preferred to stand. No, hepreferredto bench press a couple hundred pounds real quick, but he’d have to make do with hydrating and breathing. He filled a cup with water, tossed it back, and then poured a second one while Zoey served their guests.
Guests? Make thatfamily.
He had flesh-and-blood family.
The floor tilted again. He leaned against the wall by the television stand, found Zoey’s eyes. She gave him a quick dip of her head, and he held on to her gaze like a life preserver. He clutched the cup in his hand and finally dared to look at Amelia—who was staring at him. He gulped, coughed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fontenot.” Ms. Bridges gestured toward the cookies with a smile. “You’re very gracious. I know we showed up rather?—”
“Oh, no. I’m not—we’re not…” Zoey pointed to her chest, then at Linc, eyes wide. “I’m ZoeyLakewood.”
Ms. Bridges winced. “Oh, you’re not married? My mistake.”
Any other time, Linc would have snorted at the panic in Zoey’s gaze, the flush in her cheeks. He crossed his arms, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Mr. Fontenot, I take it you are familiar with Ms. West.” Ms. Bridges set her cup back on the tray and opened her folder.
He fought back a snort. Familiar. That was one word for it.
“She’s been gone for over a week. Neighbors reported their suspicions when her car never returned, but they saw Amelia still taking the bus every day.”
Kirsten just left her? Linc frowned. “Where—what bus?”
Amelia stared at him like he was an idiot. “Theschoolbus. I’m in eighth grade.”
“No, I meanwhere? Where did you come from?”
“Lafayette.” Ms. Bridges shuffled the papers. “That’s where Amelia and her mother have been living the past three months.”
“Lafayette—Louisiana? When did she move there?”
More shuffling. “I’m not sure. Where did you and Ms. West meet?”
“North Carolina.” When his foster parents left Magnolia Bay and moved up north after he graduated high school. “We obviously lost touch.” After—well, aftereverything. Cleanest breakup he’d ever had. Then he got that scholarship via weightlifting to finish his business degree at LSU and never looked back. Returned to the Bay after graduating to start his crawfishing business, to stop being a third wheel with foster parents who had raised him and were clearly done with the job.
Apparently, somewhere along the way, he’d missed a lot.
“Before Lafayette, we lived in Metairie. Then Ruston. Natchitoches.” Amelia ticked the towns off on her fingers. “We get around.”
In more ways than one in Kirsten’s case, if she left her teen daughter home alone for a week or longer. His chest heated. Sounded like nothing had changed—betrayal, abandonment, zero loyalty. All these years, and she’d been in Louisiana, just a bridge or boat ride away. Sure, he’d blocked her number after the breakup, but she could have easily found him if she’d tried via his foster parents.
Why follow him to Louisiana but never reach out?
“She never told me.” Linc looked between Ms. Bridges, Zoey, and Amelia, repeating the words he feared none of them believed. “I didn’t know.”
