Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Drake

What the hell? I jolt awake, swatting at whatever poked my face, and peel open my eyes. Instant regret. My head throbs in protest, the taste of stale beer and regret thick on my tongue. I grimace and slam my eyes shut as a blur of bad decisions filters through my thoughts.

Okay, but where the hell am I? Sheets unfamiliar, scent not my own. Miranda's bed. Her room. That's right. She wanted me to come back to her place. Apparently, my apartment was too far away for her liking.

A sudden giggle breaks through my foggy thoughts.

Running a tattooed hand across my face, I open an eye and peer into dark brown ones, staring at me with question. The fuck? I quickly check to ensure the sheets cover my junk and toss a silent thanks to the heavens when I find I am covered.

Is Miranda a mother? Sweat breaks across my forehead as I try to get a handle on the situation. I'm down for a girlfriend, but adding a family to the mix…? That would be a hard pass.

"Hey, buddy." My voice cracks as I try to play it cool. His little fingers prod my cheek with a childlike boldness that doesn't match the situation. I should be used to curveballs, but this one came out of left field.

"Who are you?" the kid in question asks. He's little. Cute, with questioning eyes framed by a mop of disheveled brown hair, he looks around six or seven years old, definitely too young to be left alone.

"I'm Drake. Who are you?"

"Jake." He giggles more. "Our names rhyme, but yours is kinda lame."

"Yeah?" Where did this kid come from? I nudge Miranda's side to wake her, but she just groans. The sound stirs memories of last night. Jesus. We weren't exactly quiet. I wouldn't have agreed to come here had I known she had a child. But who did she leave him with?

"Yeah. So what's your last name?"

"Gunner," I say, mouth twitching.

"Hmm, I like that better. From now on, we'll call you Gun Man."

Seriously. What is with this kid?

"Miranda." I try jostling her awake, but she simply rolls over and continues sleeping.

"Mom says she sleeps like the dead. You should come and eat breakfast. We're having pancakes today."

Damn, if my stomach doesn't growl at the thought of food. But I don't miss the "mom" part.

I instantly relax. "Is your mom here?"

"Of course, she is, silly. She wouldn't leave me alone with Miranda!" The little boy's eyes widen as he looks at my date. Correction, my girlfriend. Fuck, I need to set my language right. Despite how angry she made me last night flirting with Kaplan, I want to make this work. For once in my life, I want to do the right thing. Have some honor, like my brother-in-law. Hell, even my ex-girlfriend's husband is a better man than me.

"You didn't hear that." His whisper-shout makes me chuckle.

"I'd never break bro-code." I try to sit up, but another pounding wave hits my head.

"Are you okay?" Jake's head tilts, studying me like I'm a puzzle of missing pieces. This isn't the Saturday morning sports recap I'm used to, that's for sure.

"I'm fine," I lie, not wanting to explain a hangover to a child. "Just tired."

He nods, accepting the answer without understanding the layers beneath it. His innocence starkly contrasts the complexity of my reality, and suddenly, I'm craving the simplicity of his world. But wishes don't change facts, and I'm still here, tangled in sheets that tell stories not fit for young ears.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, my tone light, though the question feels heavier than it should.

"Yep!" He pops the ‘p' like he's got all the answers. Maybe he does. Maybe kids know how to navigate life better than we give them credit for.

"Good, good." I sit up, bracing myself against the mattress. The room spins—a dizzying merry-go-round—and I close my eyes, willing the world to slow its roll.

"Your eyes are funny," Jake observes, and I crack an eyelid open to see him squinting at me, mimicking my pained expression.

"Are they?" I manage a half-smile despite the pulsing in my skull.

"Like this," he scrunches up his face, and it's almost comical, this miniature version of concern.

"Exactly like that," I chuckle, even as my heart does a weird flip. Kids, man. They get you when you least expect it.

"Okay." He seems satisfied, dropping his hands to his sides. And just like that, his attention shifts, leaving me to gather the scattered thoughts and blurred images of the night before. "I'll tell Mom you're here."

Before I could respond, he dashed out of the room through a door that must lead to a shared bathroom.

Taking that as a cue to get out of bed, I grab my pants off the floor and cringe at the wrinkled, balled-up dress shirt. That's going to be scratchy.

I shrug and decide to leave it. Miranda told me she was a cleat chaser, so I assume her roommate would be one, too. Two birds of a feather and all. Surely, she wouldn't mind seeing a shirtless athlete.

Once I finish my business, I take Jake up on his breakfast offer and meander to the living room. What could it hurt? The little kid was cute, and I was starving.

But as I enter the small space, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of a familiar figure standing in the kitchen. The unexpectedness causes me to lose my footing until I come to a complete stop and just stare at the woman who has haunted my thoughts for years.

Lila. The girl who was supposed to be my forever. My someone to go the distance.

The woman standing before me wasn't the same girl I knew. Her petite frame is all curves and every grown man's dreams. Still hot as hell in that tight sleep shirt and short sleep shorts. Her blonde hair is shorter than I remember, styled in a pixie cut. But it's those damn mesmerizing green eyes that always get me. Except, they hold a coolness to them instead of warmth or familiarity. Lila stares at me as if I've magically appeared before her. I may not possess majestic powers, but I somehow turned into that sea witch who steals voices because my forever girl hasn't uttered a word.

"Lila?" Her name escapes from my lips before I can stop it. It's been years since I've said her name.

She stands frozen, her grip on the spatula in her hand loosening until it falls to the floor with a loud clang. We both reach for it, our hands brushing against each other and igniting a spark that I thought had long died out.

She's fucking here.

Right in front of me.

A familiar scent of vanilla and lavender mingles with the faint smell of coffee and wraps around me like a warm, comforting embrace. The sensation is so intense that it triggers memories of dates and stolen kisses. The sweet taste of Lila's lips still lingers on my tongue like a bittersweet poison.

My forever girl.

My skin prickles with anticipation of touching Lila again, my fingers itching to trace the familiar curves of her body. To feel the softness of her skin and the silkiness of her hair. But she feels so far away, like a dream I can't quite grasp.

Miranda.

The name pops into my mind like a cold splash of water dousing my fantasies. Suddenly, the room feels too small, like the walls are closing on me. An awkward silence blankets the room, making it difficult to breathe, let alone find words for a long overdue conversation.

But how the hell did my forever girl come to live with my girlfriend?

I straighten quickly and look away, locking gazes with a pair of dark brown eyes, not quite the same shape as mine but similar enough to send shivers down my spine.

And then it clicks.

The little boy standing beside her is about as old as the time since I left.

My heart pounds as I struggle to form the question burning on my tongue. "Is he … is he mine?"