Prologue
? Love Someone - Lukas Graham
4 years ago, Aiden 4 years old
Liam
The doorbell rings for the third time in less than two minutes as I rush to dry off from my shower. I come damn close to falling flat on my ass, hopping into a pair of grey sweatpants on my way through the kitchen.
It rings again, and I mutter a string of expletives under my breath. I swing open the front door and stare into the cold eyes of the last person I want to see standing on my stoop.
My fists clench at my sides. “What the fuck are you doing here, Breanna?”
I haven’t seen my toxic ex-girlfriend in almost five years. If she’s showing up now, it’s because she needs something. Breanna needing something is never good.
“Nice to see you too, Liam.Reallynice.”
Her gaze rakes over my body, stopping to ogle the tattooscovering my chest. The blatant perusal sends an unwelcome chill up my spine; I wish I’d had the forethought to grab a shirt.
“Cut the shit, Bree. What the fuck do you want?”
She shifts uncomfortably on the spot. “I have someone you need to meet. Can you at least keep an open mind?”
My face pulls into a frown as she glances over her shoulder at the small silver car parked in my driveway. I follow her line of sight to the rear passenger door and stumble back. The window is rolled down, and there’s a little boy in the backseat. He can’t be more than three or four years old, but I’d recognize those green eyes anywhere.
I know it in my bones—he’s mine. Closing my eyes, I suck in a lungful of air and try to gentle my tone, but the hurt and anger are still apparent in every word. “I have a son?”
“Yes. He’s yours.”
A sharp pain lances through my chest. “Why?—”
“We were never right for each other. You know that. I didn’t want to bring a child into a broken relationship.” To her credit, she doesn’t break eye contact when she spews her bullshit excuses. That’s all it is—bullshit. Breanna and I were never going to work out, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have loved my son.
My nostrils flare. “So, you thought it was a good idea to keep him from me?”
I want to head into my gym and pummel all my frustrations into the heavy punching bag, but this isn’t the time. My past has come back to haunt me, and I need to find out what the hell kind of game Bree is playing. She always has an ulterior motive, and she’s just fucked up enough to use my kid against me.
“Like I said, two broken people would’ve only made a broken home for him. I didn't want that.”
I want to ask why now? After all this time? My thoughts are nothing more than a jumbled mess.
“And what about what I wanted, huh? Did you think about that before you took off with my kid?”
“I have a lot of regrets, but that doesn’t change the situation I’m in. I need you to take him.”
I flinch, trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying. “What the fuck? You can’t just rehome a child like a fucking pair of shoes that no longer fit. ”
“I can’t take him with me. You should get to know each other. He’s a good kid. I’ve raised him well, despite what you might think of me. He needs you.”
“He doesn’tknowme. He needs his mom. He needs stability. I work in a bar; I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid.”
“I didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, but I managed. Besides, you practically raised Connor.”
My younger brother, Connor, and I grew up moving from one foster home to the next. When I aged out of the system, I was able to take him with me, but he was already well into his teens by then. I know next to nothing about little kids.
“You had nine fucking months to prepare for that. You’re dropping a four-year-old off with a man he’s never met. What about your parents? Wouldn’t they take him?”
“I haven’t spoken to them in five years. They disowned me when I told them I was going to be a single mom. Just meet him. Please.”
