45. Ayla

45

AYLA

K ip and I decide to stop back at the townhouse, leaving Piper, Clay, Teller, Jamie, and little Thomas at the hospital while we get some fresh clothes for everyone. Jamie didn’t want to be alone and Clay and Teller happily said they would stay with her.

Besides, Clay didn’t seem like he wanted to let go of Thomas either way.

When we get to the townhouse, Kip doesn’t bother shutting off the engine. “You run in real quick, and I’ll wait out here.”

I nod. “I’ll be quick.”

As I approach the front door, my mind races with thoughts of Jamie and the tiny, perfect baby she’s just brought into the world.

I freeze when I turn the corner and realize I’m not alone.

There, standing on the porch like she owns the place, is a woman I’ve never seen before. She’s stunning, with an air of confidence that’s both intimidating and alluring. Her presence is so commanding, so striking, that for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

My heart pounds in my chest as I size her up, trying to gauge her intentions. She exudes an effortless poise, her posture straight and her gaze unwavering. I can’t help but feel a twinge of inadequacy in her presence, my worn jeans and messy bun suddenly seeming wholly insufficient.

Swallowing hard, I force myself to speak. “Can I help you?” I ask, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

The woman turns to face me, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, as if she hadn’t expected to find anyone here. “I need to see Clay, Kip, or Teller,” she replies, her tone casual yet firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her words send a chill down my spine, and my instincts flare to life. Something about this woman doesn’t sit right with me, and I find myself growing defensive. “And you are?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest, a physical barrier between us.

She regards me coolly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in my defensive stance. “I’m an old friend,” she says, her lips curving into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I have some...unfinished business with the boys.”

Her cryptic response does nothing to ease my growing unease. If anything, it only heightens my suspicions. What kind of unfinished business could she possibly have with Clay, Kip, and Teller? And why show up now, of all times?

I open my mouth to press further, but something in her expression stops me. There’s a hardness in her gaze, a warning not to push too far. I get the distinct impression that this woman is not someone to be trifled with.

“They’re not here,” I say, my tone clipped and guarded. “But I can let them know you stopped by Miss...?”

The woman extends her perfectly manicured hand, a charming smile playing on her lips. “I’m Sydney, Harper’s mom.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my confusion deepen. “Harper? Who’s that?” I ask, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

Sydney’s expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something I can’t quite decipher crossing her face. “Harper is the baby I left on their doorstep,” she explains, her tone matter of fact, as if she’s discussing the weather and not the bombshell she just dropped on me.

My jaw drops, and I feel like the world is tilting beneath my feet. The implications of her words swirl in my mind, and I struggle to process the information. A baby? Left on the doorstep? And this woman, with her designer clothes and perfect hair, is the mother?

I take a step back, my hand gripping the doorframe for support. “You... you left her here?” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and rising anger.

Sydney nods, her expression unreadable. “I had my reasons,” she says, her tone cool and collected. “But that’s between me and the boys.”

The boys. Clay, Kip, and Teller. My boys. My heart clenches at the thought of them, and a fierce protectiveness surges through me. I don’t know what this woman wants, but I’ll be damned if I let her hurt them.

Disbelief crashes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me away in its current. “That can’t be right,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I stare at Sydney, desperately searching for any sign that this is all some twisted joke.

But her expression remains impassive, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she watches me grapple with the truth. “Oh, it’s right,” she says, her tone laced with a sickening sweetness.

My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoes in my ears. I open my mouth to speak, to demand answers, but the words stick in my throat, choking me with their weight.

Just then, the sound of footsteps catches my attention, and I turn to see Kip rounding the corner, his arms laden with bags. He freezes mid-step, his eyes widening as they land on Sydney. “Sydney?” he breathes, shock etched into every line of his face.

So she hadn’t been lying…she’s Piper’s real mom.

Sydney grins. “Nice to see you again, Kip.”