Chapter 17

17

STERLING

F or the past two weeks, ever since I'd gotten back to Allisburg, I'd been dreaming about Daphne LaSalle. I'd refused to think too hard about it, but as I woke up the morning after she'd taken me to the clinic, I knew there was no more getting away from it.

I'd dreamed about her again, but this dream had been different from the others. Those had been the sexy kind of dreams, ones that left me waking up hard and doing something about it before going back to sleep, pretending that I hadn't been thinking about her at all.

Last night, however, it had been a whole different kettle of fish. Groaning as I rolled over in bed, I squeezed my eyes shut again and tried to forget the last, lingering images of that dream, but they wouldn't leave, and strangely, they were even sexier than the sex dreams.

Because in these images, Daphne was pregnant with my child. I'd dreamed that I was driving her to the hospital because she was having our baby. We'd been laughing and joking, full of so much excitement and love in the car.

As I lay there, panting and covered in sweat, I was full of something else entirely—disappointment that it had only been a dream. There's something seriously fucking wrong with me.

Shaking my head at myself, I rolled out of bed, staggered to my windows, pushed open the dusty curtains, and looked out at the rolling farmland. I braced a hand against the wall, my head hanging but my gaze on the scenery I'd woken up with every morning for the first eighteen years of my life.

I remembered looking out at it, feeling like I was trapped here. Like it was a prison with invisible bars that only gave the illusion of absolute freedom. It didn't feel that way anymore.

For one crazy minute, I stood completely still, looking out at the pumpkin patch, the fields, and the pond in the distance, and I wondered if Daphne would like living here. I wondered if things would've been different now if I'd never left.

Rachel was pregnant with Jake's baby. Would Daph have been pregnant with mine? Would my dream from last night be my reality?

I shoved my fingers of the hand not gripping the wall into my hair. Never in my life had I had the kind of thoughts I was having right then. I'd never wanted a woman to be pregnant with my child—let alone a woman I'd never even touched.

In fact, I'd spent thousands of dollars on the stuff necessary to prevent pregnancy. I'd also spent every damn day from age eight to age eighteen working as hard I could to make sure I would get away from this place.

Out of this town and off this farm.

I'd done that. In spectacular fucking fashion. I had a penthouse with a view of Central Park and a bank account with more zeroes in it than I knew what to do with.

So why do I suddenly want to move Daphne out here with me, to put a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly? Why do I want to buy a cabin just like Eric's for us to spend our weekends, and why on God's green earth does all that sound so damn appealing?

Pushing away from the wall with my heart hammering in my chest and my dick trying to punch a hole through my shorts, I marched to the bathroom and took a long—cold—shower. Whatever was going on in my head nowadays, it wasn't me.

I couldn't allow it to keep messing with my thoughts. My future depended on it. I was finally living the life I'd always wanted. And sure, it wasn't quite as awesome as I thought it would be, but shit. I could see the Brooklyn fucking Bridge from my office.

I mean, come on!

When I got done in the shower, I tossed on whatever clean clothes were at the top of the pile and went downstairs, planning on washing away these confusing feelings with a cup of strong coffee. On my way down, I saw my dad sleeping on the couch in the living room and I frowned, wondering how often he did this.

Slowing down so my footsteps would be quieter, I padded into the room and covered him gently with a blanket. My gaze landed on what he had been looking at when he'd fallen asleep. My heart lurched into my throat, my eyes suddenly burning.

It was a photo album, open to a picture of me as a toddler with my mom, who couldn't have been more than Daphne's age at the time. My chest squeezed and my throat tightened. God, I miss her so much.

Her vibrant green eyes smiled up at me from the picture. I ran my thumb across her cheek, feeling my brow furrow as I fought a powerful wave of emotion rising from deep within. She'd been such a beautiful woman, so full of life and laughter.

In the picture, her cheeks were flushed with happiness, her eyes so alive and joyful as she clutched me on her lap. I didn't remember this photograph being taken, but I hoped I'd known how lucky I had been to have her with me.

Stumbling to the couch opposite the one Dad was sleeping on, I sat down and turned the page, finding that the album was full of pictures of her and me. My chest constricted more and I had to fight a sorrowful noise from escaping my chest.

As I paged through the album, it got worse and worse. It was almost like I could feel her presence with me again. Smell the scents of her baking emanating from the kitchen.

I slammed the album shut and shot to my feet, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. Being here was almost too much to bear. Without even thinking about it, I made a beeline for the front door.

I ran out of the house with no direction of where I was going. My head was spinning and my breaths came in short pants. God, I miss her. I need her back. Dad needs her back. He's dying without her. We can't ? —

The faint sound of a fire alarm drifted into my consciousness, immediately snapping me out of my spiral. I blinked hard and focused, turning in a slow circle in an attempt to pinpoint where it was coming from.

The bakery. Fuck.

I leaped into action, racing toward Eric's truck and finding the keys waiting for me in it. Daphne must've brought it back at some point this morning, but that meant…

She's here. She's in the bakery.

My heart started pounding as I slammed the truck into drive and raced down the old, winding road that led from the farmhouse to the edge of the property. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the wheel, the tires spitting gravel behind me.

Yet I pushed my foot down harder on the gas, desperation to get there already tearing through me. All I could think about was Daphne.

The truck had been at the house, which meant that either she or Eric had brought it. If it had been her, it was a fair bet that she was down there right then. In the bakery that was definitely burning.

Getting closer, I saw a plume of black smoke starting to rise from its direction and my heart nearly gave out. My knees went numb, but I kept racing.

The bakery. My mother's bakery. My mother's bakery with Daphne LaSalle in it. It's burning. Being razed to the ground.

My vision blurred, but I didn't care. All that mattered was that I got to her before it was too late. I hadn't been able to save my mother. I would be damned if another woman I cared about died in an accident I might've been able to prevent if only I had been closer.