The detective stands, and his lips tighten as he makes his way past the sobbing girl and toward me.
“Can we talk outside, Mr. Masters?”
I nod, my jaw clenching as I stare at the girl I once thought had betrayed me in a completely different way.
I follow him out the door while still holding Trip, and he sighs as he turns to face me.
“I realize this is a really big bomb to have dropped on you. While I don’t agree with what Ms. Branderwood did, I understand what she thought she was doing. It’s not my place to offer advice, but she’s going through hell right now. She’s locked up, her child is in danger, and she’s scared out of her mind. If you take out all of your anger on her, she’s just going to have one more thing to worry about.”
“If she didn’t want me angry, she should have told me he was my son the day she found out she was pregnant,” I almost hiss.
His lips tighten again, and then he turns to walk toward his car.
“I’ll be in touch, Mr. Masters.”
“I’ll be here.”
With my son. My son.
***
Ashiara
I’ve never spent a night away from Trip, and even though I’m just a little bit away, it’s torture. I’ve spent the entire night crying and listening to the monitor that was once in Tag’s room.
Hearing his soothing voice calming our crying child stabs me, especially since I know he truly does hate me. This entire thing is fucked up. He can’t force me to let him keep Trip in his room. He can’t force me to stay here either. I can go to Melanie's, and I can live there without him having any rights. It’ll take him forever to even get the paternity test he would need to prove Trip’s his child.
So why am I staying?
Because I owe him that much.
Breathing in heavily, I go to sit in the kitchen and stare out the window at the world that has forsaken me. This morning, I thought of all the ways we could be together. Tonight, I’m thinking of all the reasons we never will me.
A flash of light draws my attention, and I watch the security guards rush over to take something to the ground.
Shit. It’s a person.
“Tag,” I squeal, and he rushes out of the room with Trip cradled to his chest.
“What?” he angrily rattles out, and then his eyes fall on the crazy scene going on in the front yard. “Shit. Call the detective, and here, hold Trip.”
He hands him to me, and then he rushes outside as I pull the card off the fridge and dial the number with shaky fingers. But before anyone can answer, blue lights start flashing outside as sirens whoop their presence.
I drop the phone as I stare at Tag, worried what might happen to him if it’s this son of a bitch after me. I see his hands clasp together behind his head as the cops jerk three figures around and cuff their hands.
My heart races as I stare at Tag in his track pants—shirtless as he talks to the cops. I hold Trip to my chest as my lips stroll over his forehead very gingerly. I’m praying this is finally over.
***
Tag
“Thanks for coming out here so fast,” I sigh.
“Your guards called us the second they saw someone trying to break in. We’ll let these guys spend the night in jail. Let me know how you want to proceed, Mr. Masters.”
“I will,” I huff as I jog back up to the house.
I’m sure this is going to be tough for Ash to swallow. She’s probably been on the edge of her seat. As mad as I am, I hate she has to go through this.