thoughtfully, waiting for him to look at her, ignoring the throbbing in her chest as she did. When he finally met her eyes, she tilted her head.
‘How did it go?’ she asked quietly. ‘When she told you.’
He stared at her for a moment, then picked up his coffee.
‘I...struggled.’
‘So you were perfectly stoic, but freaking out inside.’
His mouth lifted. ‘Pretty much.’
‘You don’t think she’s lying?’
‘No.’
The answer was quick and immediate, his voice hard. He was defending the woman, Autumn realised, though she didn’t understand why the woman needed defending. She was only asking a question. But then, this was Hunter. Protecting what was his. And the woman was his now.
Her stomach twisted.
‘She has no reason to lie,’ he continued. ‘And she showed me a picture. He looks...exactly like Janie did when she was a baby.’
‘Oh.’
It was all she said; it was all the pain allowed her to say. All the other words that came to mind were selfish.
We could have had a child who looked like Janie. We could have done this together, and you wouldn’t have had to ask for help.
‘Is he sick?’ she asked.
The cup he’d lifted crashed against the table as he set it back down. ‘I... I don’t know.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘No.’
‘Hunter, why the hell wouldn’t you ask if your baby was sick?’
He didn’t answer her, only looked stricken. Her heart softened, though she refused to allow herself to show it. Beneath the softness was a pain she hadn’t known she could feel.
He’d told her it was probably good he wouldn’t have children when he was a carrier of the CF gene. There were zero chances then that he’d pass it down—the disease or the gene. Now she was supposed to believe he’d forgotten about it?
‘She would have told me if he was sick,’ he said.
Autumn set her mug down, her own fingers trembling too much for her to hold it.
‘How would she have known? Newborns aren’t tested for CF here unless it’s specifically requested. What?’ she asked defensively when he looked at her. ‘I did the research.’
She continued so neither of them would dwell on why she’d done it.
‘Besides, Hunter, what do you know about this woman?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You met her twice. Once the night you two had sex, and tonight. Now she’s asking you to take care of your child?’
‘It’s fair,’ he said in a back-off voice.
‘Of course it’s fair,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘But you don’t know her. You have no idea what she would have told you.’ She paused. Saw his face. Sat back slowly. ‘You’ve already realised that.’ There was barely a second before she said, ‘And you know you didn’t ask because you don’t want to know whether he’s sick.’
Time passed. Seconds, minutes, she wasn’t sure.
‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’ll find out tomorrow.’
Tired now, she sighed. ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’
‘She’s dropping him off.’ He picked up his coffee again, brought it to his mouth. When he was done, he looked her dead in the eye. ‘Be there with me.’
THE SITUATION REMINDED him of his father.
Calvin Lee had expected Hunter to fill in where he’d lacked with Janie. Hunter knew it because his father would call him whenever he was expected to care for Janie on his own. Now, Hunter could see himself doing the same to Autumn. Treating her with that same selfishness. But he couldn’t stop. Was urged forward by something he didn’t understand.
‘Hunter,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t see what either of us could possibly gain from me being there with you.’
Hunter thought about the hug she’d given him when he’d first arrived. He remembered the steadiness of her gaze, despite the news he’d told her. He could hear the concern in her voice, and, beneath it, a strength he desperately needed.
That was why he was here. He’d known she’d offer comfort, steadiness, strength. Because she was his friend. She cared about him. Even though he’d broken her heart by being unable to say yes to the family she wanted. Even though he’d seen some of the light in her eyes go out that day.
It had been part of what had spurred him to the bar the next night.
Her casual talks of a future and a family had forced him to face memories he’d been running from. Of him curling up to Janie as their parents argued in loud whispers outside Janie’s door. Of distracting her when the arguments turned louder. Of almost being relieved that she hadn’t been there any more when the arguments graduated into shouting.
And then, of the silence.
He couldn’t imagine putting a kid through it. Through what Janie had suffered with her illness. Through what he’d suffered with his parents’ marriage. Through what it felt like to have the possibility of carrying the cystic fibrosis gene hover like a noose around their necks. Or through having to make the hardest decision in his life about having a family because of it.
Now he was being forced to imagine it. He was being forced to face the fears.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, over his face.
‘I need you there,’ he rasped, shame straining his voice. ‘I don’t know if I can do it.’
‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘You took care of Janie.’
The feeling he couldn’t explain swelled, compelling him to beg.
‘Please.’
The skin around her eyes crinkled in tension. She gave a curt nod. ‘Fine. If it’s that important to you, I’ll go.’
‘Thank you.’
He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have agreed. That she was being too nice to him; that he didn’t deserve it. Neither did she. She deserved more than her ex-boyfriend and pseudo-friend asking this from her.
He left it at thank you.
‘She obviously knew your name if she knew how to find
