I froze.
Then my arms came around her before I could think better of it.
She nestled in, head tucked under my chin, like I was someone safe. Like I was someone worth loving.
And I broke. Quietly, inside.
This could’ve been mine. She could’ve been ours.
If Hudson had come to me and begged forgiveness, a second chance, anything, would I have said no? Maybe not.
But we would never know because he hadn’t.
He took what we had and torched it, then built something new in the ashes. Something I never got a say in.
And now here I was, holding the evidence in my arms. Warm, breathing, trusting me with all her little heart.
I tried to lay her back down. Gently, carefully, I eased her off my chest, aiming for the bundle of throw pillows and folded blankets someone had made into a makeshift bed on the floor.
But she whimpered. Tiny and distressed.
Her arms clung tighter around my neck, and her whole little body tensed like I was about to disappear. “No,” she whispered sleepily, thumb jammed between her lips.
I swallowed hard.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to walk away. Keep the line drawn clean and sharp.
Instead, I let out a breath and sat back down, cross-legged on the floor with her nestled in my arms like she belonged there. Like I wasn’t the asshole in her story too.
Her hand curled around the collar of my shirt. And I…held her.
God.
The warmth of her. The trust. The softness. It cracked something in me wide open. Made my throat burn and my heart do that pathetic thump-thump that only ever got me hurt.
I rubbed slow circles on her back, whispering nonsense words. Comfort, apology, regret. They all sounded the same when spoken softly enough.
Her lashes fluttered. Her breathing evened out. And I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Because somehow this moment—me, her, the quiet—was doing something to me I hadn’t expected.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
Ozzie stood frozen in the doorway like he’d walked in on a crime scene. His mouth parted, like he didn’t know what to say, which was rare for him. His gaze flicked to Ivy in my lap, then back to me, and something unreadable passed over his face.
“You should watch her more carefully.” I frowned at my brother’s fiancé, my father’s lover, still not sure what to think about him.
What he was doing with my father was disgusting. Not the sex. I understood that. But that he didn’t break up with Carter before having their affair.
Hudson should know better than to entrust his daughter to someone like that.
“I left to use the bathroom and get a drink of water.” He twisted his hands. “She was lying on the floor, so there was no danger of her rolling off anywhere.”
“Still.” I didn’t like the idea of the child being alone like that. I returned my focus to the little girl who looked so delicate. My chest felt tight. “She feels so small. I thought I’d hate her, but I don’t.”
Why don’t I hate her?
“Of course you don’t hate her,” Ozzie said gently in that fake nice tone of his. “You hate her father, but she’s an innocent baby.”
