the one who has spent a lifetime searching. I’m the one who actually cares, instead of thinking of him as some kind of prized possession.” Oh, God—she was taking a leaf from her ex-husband’s book, her tone scathing enough to etch metal. With an effort, she moderated it. “I didn’t say I was giving up. I said there’s a better way to handle this than making Gabe hate us.”
“You’re going to baby him along until he’s fourteen? Fifteen? Ready to graduate from high school? Guess we can count on him expecting me to pay for his college education.”
Nolan Gregor was a deeply conflicted man who loved her son and yet had had the compassion to risk losing him by posting his DNA online. It was Craig Stewart who was the asshole, she saw with sudden clarity.
“If you take the legal route and a judge of any decency hears that tone of voice, he or she will rule in favor of the good man Gabe loves.” A female judge, please—give us a woman. “You’ve changed, Craig, and not for the better.”
As the silence stretched, Dana couldn’t be sure what lay behind it. Had she enraged Craig so much he would go after Gabriel with a fleet of high-paid attorneys, and to hell with her? Or did some remnant remain of the man who had blamed her, yes, but also cried with her, held her?
“I’ll give you some time,” he said abruptly. “I expect to be kept informed.”
She swallowed back everything hateful she wanted to say and settled for a too-calm “Of course I will. Goodbye, Craig.” She ended the call without waiting for any addenda. After which she tossed her phone to the coffee table hard enough to make it skid across the glass surface and fall to the carpeted floor.
Then she moaned and remembered everything she’d said.
The good man? Was that the one who’d said, “As far as I’m concerned, he’s my son?” Oh, and accused her of being selfish, of putting her needs ahead of her child’s?
But honesty compelled her to remember the expressions she’d seen cross that craggy face, too, the shades of emotion in his deep voice. He’d been more decent than she probably deserved. The awful thing was, she wouldn’t have wanted Gabriel to be raised by a man who was now perfectly fine about handing him over. Because of Nolan, Gabe—Christian—knew he was loved. Nolan had been a rock for her son.
And she had no idea how to defeat a man like him without making her son hate her.
* * *
CHRISTIAN GAZED BESEECHINGLY across the breakfast table. “So, if she just went away, does that mean she won’t try to take me?” Of course, he’d inhaled his cereal and banana before opening his mouth.
And why not? In the two days since Dana Stewart had checked out of the inn without leaving any word, Christian had asked the same damn question so many times and in so many ways that Nolan’s head was about to explode.
“No,” he said, going for blunt this time. He held his nephew’s gaze to make sure he listened. That he really heard. Because Nolan had seen the way the woman looked at Christian. She’d gone home wounded, stymied, but they hadn’t heard the last from her.
He had done some research. Dana had stayed all these years in the house from which her baby son had been abducted. It had to be too big for her. It had to hold more painful memories than good. But leaving would have meant letting go of some of those memories, and she had refused to do that.
He had no doubt her marriage had splintered over her absolute refusal to let go of one iota of her pain. Nolan could almost sympathize with the ex-husband, whose wife didn’t have enough left over to love him. Almost being the operative word, because Nolan knew himself well enough to be sure he wouldn’t have moved on any better than she had. He would have held on to the pain and his wife.
He knew a lot of synonyms for stubborn, because they’d all been thrown at him. Even in a unit of men not inclined to back down—ever—he’d been famous for his pigheadedness...to use one of the kinder descriptions.
That Dana had kept her ex-husband’s last name because it was also her son’s said it all.
“I’m expecting to hear from her attorney any day,” he told Christian now. “Maybe Child Protective Services. She’d be within her rights to have my parenting skills and this home evaluated with a microscope. It would be really good for her case if they decide I’ve screwed up in some way or other.”
“But you haven’t!” Milk sloshed over the rim of Christian’s bowl when he gave it a shove. Eyes sparking, he thrust out his chin. “I’ll tell them. Everyone will tell them!”
Touched by the fierce defense even though he knew it was rooted in the boy’s deep-seated fear of being yanked away from everything familiar, Nolan smiled. “Thank you. And you’re right. I don’t think a social worker will find anything to use against me. But having them look...that’s a logical step in Ms. Stewart’s campaign.”
“If she cares about me, why hasn’t she called or something?”
Studying the way those thin shoulders had hunched, Nolan felt a burst of rage. This was a kid who’d lived with enough uncertainty. Did she have a clue what she was doing to him?
But, God help him, his fury was balanced by empathy he’d rather not be feeling. No, that wasn’t true; he didn’t want to be the kind of man who couldn’t see both sides, couldn’t feel for a woman as wounded as Dana Stewart. And he didn’t want the boy he considered his son to grow into that kind of man, either.
He replaced his coffee cup. “You shut her down pretty hard,” he said, keeping the judgment out of his voice but saying what he needed to. “I know you’re scared. I understand, and I think she does, too. But we have to recognize that she has suffered for a lot of years. She came out here filled with hope, to find out her kid doesn’t want anything to do with her.” He let that sink in, then said, “None of this is her fault, any more than it’s yours or mine.”
“You’re saying it’s Mom’s.”
Yeah, he was. But he softened it some. “I don’t know whether she stole you or not. I’d like to think not, but if she got confused enough, it’s possible. Either way, she told plenty of lies.”
Instead of blowing up, as Nolan had half expected, Christian sat very still and said in a small voice, “You said she really believed I was hers.”
“I’m sure she did some of the time. When she was on her meds, though...” He shook his head. “Did she really believe in her manufactured reality? I don’t know.”
Christian’s face crumpled. “She’s my mom.”
Oh, hell. Nolan shoved back his chair and circled the table to wrap an arm around his nephew. “It’s okay to keep loving her,” he said roughly. “She’ll always be your mom, in some ways.”
“Why do I have to have another mom?” He was back to pleading. “It’s not fair! I just want you.”
Nolan squeezed his eyes shut before they could start leaking. “Here’s something to think about. Right now it’s just you and me.” Throat clogged, he could not freakin’ believe he was about to say this. Cut his own throat, why didn’t he? But he said it anyway, because it was the truth. “Having more people to love you could be a good thing.”
Christian wrenched away so quick his head whacked Nolan’s jaw. Betrayal darkened his eyes. “You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you? You’re going to let her take me.”
Tasting blood, Nolan shook his head. “No. I said I’d fight for you, and I will. But who are we fighting against, Christian? This is your mother.”
“I hate her!” he spat, and raced out of the room. An instant later, the front door slammed.
“Fabulous,” Nolan mumbled, swallowing the salty taste. He hoped Christian had at least taken his book bag—and was on his way to school.
* * *
DANA