“Hope you left me some crumbs,” Nathan joked.
“These are good,” Jed said. “But I wouldn’t let these savages eat them all.”
Jasper, one of the crew members, elbowed Jed in the ribs. “I told you to leave some for Nathan.”
Nathan grabbed the last two cookies and took a bite. As good as he remembered.
“Nathan?” A woman’s voice called from behind him.
He turned, searching for the source.
“Nathan Forester!” A blonde wearing a tight T-shirt waved from the doorway.
He knew her. But the name wouldn’t surface. Was she a high school friend? Acquaintance? From some bar?
“Hey,” he said.
The crew watched with undisguised interest.
He moved to cut the woman off before she entered the work site. “How are you?” Who are you?
Her lips formed a straight line. “I’m Heather.”
“Sorry.” Heather. Right. He shook his head. Wait. They’d dated years ago, when he’d first moved to Atlanta. “How did you find me?”
“I heard you were working for your family. Some lady told me what job site you were at.” This wasn’t the pretty blonde he remembered. Her skin was ashen, her hair lank. She’d loved to party—hard. So had he. It looked like partying had taken its toll.
When they’d been together, her long nails had been her pride and joy. She’d jabbed them into his skin more times than he cared to remember. Now her fingernails were chewed to the quick.
He took Heather’s arm and moved out to the courtyard.
“How long has it been? Three years? Four?” he asked. And why was she here?
“Closer to five.” She shifted on her feet.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
She paced the path, the action jerky—nervous. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”
He sniffed. She didn’t smell like she’d been drinking, but he’d always suspected she might have done drugs. “Sorry?”
“I never told you.” She bit her thumb, her gaze darting around. “I didn’t know when I moved and then—” She shook her head.
He rubbed his neck. He needed to get back to work. “What are you—?”
“You’re a father,” she interrupted.
“What?” The word whispered out. His heart stopped. Then started pounding.
“You’re a daddy.”
His knees gave out. He collapsed on a nearby bench. Daddy? He could barely remember being with her. “We used protection. Always.”
“There was that one night.” Tears streaked her cheeks.
Crap. “The condom broke,” he whispered.
“Yeah.” She hiccupped. “Surprise.”
“This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “No way am I a father.”
“You are.” She wiped her face with her hand. “I should have told you, but I’d moved. By the time I knew, I was living with Thad.”
“What do you want? Money?” He pushed off the bench and shifted away.
She laughed, a watery, snotty sound. “No.”
He let his head sink to his chest. “What?”
“I...I have to get away. I mean go away.” She scanned the courtyard. Again. “Um...to treatment.”
He pushed his hand through his hair.
She clutched his hand. “You have to take Bella.”
“Are you crazy?” A kid? This had to be a nightmare. Wake up.
“There’s no one else. You have to.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’ve had her for four years. It’s your turn now.”
He shook her hand away. “I don’t do kids.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Until she came along, neither did I.”
“Why can’t—” words and names jumbled in his head “—whoever the guy you’re living with take care of...her?”
“Her name is Isabella.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Thad’s gone.”
Nathan swore. “I should just take your word this is my kid?”
Her eyes filled with fire. She jabbed him in the chest. “I know who my daughter’s father is.”
“I don’t. I need a...a paternity test.” The words exploded out of him.
Heather waved her hand in a come-here motion.
No. Fucking. Way. She’d brought the kid here? Each breath he took seared his lungs like a welding torch.
“Nathan, turn around,” Heather said.
If he turned around, it would be real. This child would be real. “I can’t.”
“You have to.” Heather tugged on his hand. “Bella has no one else.”
He took in a deep breath, turned and looked down.
The kid had ratty blond hair. Her shirt was streaked with stains and was too small, showing a thin belly. Her shorts were grayish white. Wrapped around her shoulders was a blanket that might once have been pink.
Brown eyes looked into his. Brown eyes just like his. Like Daniel’s. Shit. It was like looking at a picture of himself as a child.
Heather knelt. “Bella, this is Nathan.”
The kid didn’t say a word.
He swore. “I can’t...” He waved his hand, words tangling and looping in his head. “Don’t...”
“You have to.” A metal chair screeched across the stone over by the fountain and Heather jumped. “A little on-the-job training won’t hurt.” She rattled the words out like a nail gun.
It might hurt the kid. What was her name? It wouldn’t work its way through the maze in his mind.
Heather stroked the kid’s hair. “You’ll stay with Nathan. He’s your daddy.”
Tears trickled down the kid’s face.
Heather grabbed two grocery bags and shoved them at him. “Here’s her stuff.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she hissed.
“But...” Nothing came out past the lump in his throat. Nothing.
“Remember what I told you.” Heather knelt in front of the crying girl, pressed a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead. “Be good for your daddy.”
This couldn’t be happening. His life couldn’t be...this screwed up. “Don’t.”
She pointed at the bags in his arms. “Her birth certificate is in there.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He turned to set the bags on the bench.
Scuffling noises sounded behind him. When he spun around, Heather was sprinting to the side gate.
“Stop!” He started to move, almost knocking the kid down. Setting her on the bench next to the bags, he stuck a finger in her face. “Stay.”
Nathan dashed along