32. Dana

Chapter 32

Dana

" I need to talk to you about something and I really, really don't want you to chew my head off for it."

Drew giggled, shoving his little giraffe into his mouth and biting down on it with his two newly formed teeth. We'd just gotten home from the hospital, and with Lottie's ever-present help, she'd insisted on driving us. He was happy as could be, and although we'd left a little earlier than Cole had originally insisted on, I didn't want to have to rely on his money for it.

I'd be sending him a check at the first possible opportunity.

"Why does that sound like you've done something shitty?" I asked, narrowing my gaze at her over Drew's head while I washed dishes. He kicked a little in the new holder that Lottie had got me that strapped him to my chest. With Vee now thoroughly kicked out of my house, the new holder would be useful to have him literally attached to me while I worked on cleaning up the house.

Lottie shifted over on the couch, her joggers tightening as she pulled her legs up. "Cause I might have."

The soapy glass in my hand slipped and fell into the sink full of water, sending bubbles and droplets flying. Drew laughed. I seethed. I could feel the fear sinking into my stomach, filling my mind with every possible thing she could say but somehow I already knew what it was.

"Just say it."

"I think Cole knows."

And there it was.

I rested my hands on the counter, digging my nails into the linoleum-wrapped cheap wood. He was already catching on. This isn't a massive leap. "How did this happen?" I snapped, irritation building in my gut.

I'd made my choice at the hospital. And although a part of me regretted it, I'd told him he wasn't Cole's father. I'd asked him to go. I'd told him that I couldn't have him near my son. The words behind them were clear— we're done. I went with my gut, and I had to stick by that, no matter how many nights I cried myself to sleep or felt like I couldn't breathe while reading Drew a story.

But we didn't need him to survive, and that's what I would have to do now—survive. Yes, he made life easier, but I couldn't care less if the next seventeen years of my life were back-breaking as a single mother if it meant keeping Drew away from the shit and the hell that I had to grow up around. My mother was the worst thing that happened to me, and my father was guilty by association. I didn't want Drew to ever know what that felt like.

"I didn't say it outright," Lottie sighed. "But I tried to get him to come back after you'd told him to leave. I'm sorry. I just—both of you are my friends, and I felt like you were both making a decision you would regret."

"So you fucking told him Drew's his son?" I accused, glaring at her over the kitchen island. She looked smaller than usual with her legs tucked up against her chest. "That wasn't your information to give."

"I just said both of you were keeping secrets," she clarified, and that didn't make it any better. "But the way he looked at me… I don't know, Dana. I think he's put the pieces together. I told him I thought he was lying about not relapsing because honestly, I think you were right about that. But I may have insinuated that he wasn't the only one lying."

"No, no, no, fuck." I pushed the bases of my palms into my eyes, trying to relieve some of the pressure building behind them. This was bad. This was fucking awful. She'd gone behind my back, she'd broken her promise, she'd told him in almost no uncertain terms.

I was screwed.

It had been two weeks. What was he waiting for, then? If he knew, if he remembered it through the likely haze of alcohol he was operating under, there was no reason for why he hadn't shown up at my door demanding to see Drew. My head spun, filling with every worst-case scenario I could think of. He was lawyering up, he was going to take me to court, he was going to demand visitation or custody, he would ask for a paternity test, he was going to take my son from me, he was dead in a ditch on the side of the road…

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," I croaked, wrapping one arm around the cooing baby strapped to my chest. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"You lost your mind when you found out I knew about Cole being in rehab," she said, her brows narrowing as she fought herself on this. "You said I should have told you. For Drew's sake. Does he not deserve the same respect?"

"Not when he's rich as shit and could crush me in court for fucking custody, Lottie!"

Drew looked up at me, his little green eyes shining, reflecting Cole right back at me. His lower lip quivered, and god, I really needed to control my anger around him. But how else was I supposed to react? How else was I supposed to feel?

Lottie shook her head. "He wouldn't. He's not that kind of person. And if for any reason he tried, you know damn well that Hunter and I would help you?—"

"I wouldn't need that help if you had just kept your mouth shut in the first place!"

"He deserves to know he has a kid, Dana! And Drew deserves a father?—"

A singular bang from the front door made me jump. Drew kicked off in my arms, the sounds of irritation too much for him, and as I wrapped my arm back around his bottom to calm him down, another bang shook the wood.

"That better not be Cole," I snapped, sending a glare to Lottie as I stepped around the kitchen island. Another harsh knock, followed swiftly by the sound of breaking pottery and a grunt.

"Stop, stop, you've got Drew. I'll get it," Lottie said, shooting to her feet in a second and crossing the beige carpet to the front door. She turned the handle, wrenching it open, and my stomach dropped for what had to be the millionth time in two weeks.

"You're not Dana," Robert said, a broken piece of my flower pot in his hand before he tossed it behind him. He clocked me before she could reply. "Where the hell have you been, girl? Was looking everywhere for you."

Lottie looked back at me, her brows furrowed, a silent question between us— who the fuck is he?

"Shut the door, Lottie," I said, taking a step toward her, but in a flash his hand was on it, holding it open. We both stopped in our tracks.

"I ask for one date and you disappear for weeks?" Robert pushed. Even from behind Lottie, I could smell him. It was as if he'd bathed, clothes and all, in a vat of vodka. It was almost shocking how much he reminded me of Cole—the lightly tanned skin, the lightened hair, the hint of stubble that Cole had for weeks on end. Even down to the cut of his suit, it looked like it had been taken right from Cole's closet. If I didn't know any better, at a passing glance, I'd have assumed he was Cole. But there were differences there too, ones that couldn't be changed. His height, his extra wide shoulders, the way his nose bent to the left. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen Cole a handful of times and had been trying to change his appearance under the assumption I was dating Cole. Oh my god. Was he trying to look more like Cole in the hope that I would date him?

"Her son was in the hospital," Lottie hissed, taking a step toward him and forcing him back. I wanted to grab her hand and pull her toward me, but the irritation from our argument stopped me before I could. "She clearly doesn't want you here, so leave."

"I called you," he barked, and Drew let out another little cry.

"And I ignored them," I shot back.

"I don't get it," Robert huffed, his fingernails digging into the cheap wood of my door and leaving a scratch. "Your precious Cole is out there drunk off his ass, spiraling—nose-diving, in fact—into his own little issues. The fucking idiot's made himself happy as a clam to never get sober again, and you're still choosing him?"

I blinked. What was he talking about? "I'm not choosing anybody. I'm just not agreeing to date you because you're a goddamn psychopath."

"Look at me," he laughed, something dark and almost sinister brewing in the way his voice sounded. "I'm a million times better than him."

"How do you know Cole?" Lottie asked. Her arm began to shake, the same one that was holding the door halfway shut. How much pressure is he putting on that door ?

"Rehab," he said, as little bits of spittle went flying.

Rehab.

Wait.

He pushed further, and the door slammed against the wall beside it as Lottie's arm gave out. She didn't move from her spot, though, keeping herself between me, Drew, and the man before us. "You have no idea how easy it was to get him to cave," he said. A line of drool leaked from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the neatly pressed dark grey suit. "He's weak . He doesn't deserve shit."

You have no idea how easy it was to get him to cave.

Oh, fuck . "You're Bobby?"

"Bobby Morgans, at your service," he chuckled, doing a little bow before nearly losing his balance.

"Leave," I hissed.

"I'm not leaving until you understand." The cut of his words almost gave me whiplash. It was terrifying how easily he slid from anger and disgust to being lighthearted and cheerful. It had terrified me the first time it happened, and now it was so much fucking worse. "You need someone who has their shit together, Dana."

"And that's you?"

"That's me."

"You look worse than Cole the last time I saw him," Lottie scolded, grabbing ahold of the door frame and trying to shut it before losing once again.

"I can guarantee he looks worse than I do right now," Bobby laughed. My stomach churned. "Don't you see, Dana? He caved. He caved so easily when he had so much to fucking live for. He can't handle himself. A few choice words, a few shitty situations, and he fell the moment I pulled out a bottle. Do you really want someone like that around your son?"

God, I couldn't keep up. He'd thrown Cole into his relapse?

"You think she'd want someone capable of doing that to a friend around her son?" Lottie shot back, and I couldn't think anymore. I couldn't process it all. I wanted him gone, wanted him fucking dead, and instead I had bickering at my front door the day we'd come home from the hospital.

I slipped my phone from my pocket, pushing the three little digits I needed before holding it up in plain sight. "Leave. Now."

"For fucks sake, Dana, I'm here to help you."

"Please don't make me call them."

A chunk of wood fell from my door as he released it, swearing under his breath. "Fine. Whatever. Fucking bitch." He stepped down off the threshold of my front door, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth as he staggered back. "Maybe I was wrong about you. You're so goddamn blind you couldn't even see the signs."

My thumb hovered over the green call button, my hand shaking violently. He snorted a laugh as he walked down my pathway, every second feeling like hours until he stepped down the road, unlocking a car I knew for certain was Coles. His BMW .

Lottie shut the door and locked it, and it was like the room came to life. Drew began to cry, my phone dropped to the ground, Lottie started freaking out, saying we needed to call the police anyway, she needed to check on Cole, about how this was insane and we needed to go to him.

I shut it all out. Everything but Drew. I wrapped my arms around him, soothing him, dragging my fingers across the top of his dark blonde hair. It had started sprouting weeks ago, and as I looked at him, as I really took it all in, I had a hard time not seeing Cole in him anymore. I couldn't block out the green eyes, the little dimple, the hair.

If Bobby was the one that drove him…

No. I'd made my decision. It didn't matter what the straw was that broke the camel's back. If I was okay taking him back after this, I would have been weeks ago. It didn't matter. I felt for him, truly, achingly, and as much as it would hurt me, destroy me, break me apart, I couldn't. For Drew, I had to keep myself away from him.

No matter how much it broke my heart.