CHAPTER ELEVEN

AMELIA

The sun hangs low as I navigate the streets of my hometown.

I’m not proud of running away like this, but the alternative—facing Nathan’s questions and risking the truth of Dylan’s parentage coming out—is a prospect I can’t bear. The fear of losing my son, of seeing him torn away by the wealth and influence of the Grant family, is a constant ache, an ever-present shadow.

Jules had been as supportive as ever when I told her my plan.

“Go.” Her voice was soft but resolute. “Take some time. Clear your head. Nancy and I can handle everything here.”

Guilt and gratitude emerged. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you overwhelmed.”

She waved away my concern, her smile bright. “Please. You haven’t taken a break since Dylan was born. It’s time, Amelia. Time for you to breathe.”

With a hug that said more than words ever could, I packed our bags and left, my heart heavy but my resolve firm.

Now, turning onto the tree-lined street of my childhood, memories rush in. Playing in the front yard. Laughter echoing through the house. Love filling every corner. It’s bittersweet—everything familiar, yet so much has changed.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires comforts me as I pull into the driveway. The house looks the same, with bright white paint and colorful flower beds. It’s a piece of the past, untouched by the chaos that has shaped my present.

Before I can turn off the engine, the front door flies open. Mom rushes out, her face alight with joy. Her silver hair is swept into a loose bun, stray wisps framing her face. She’s wearing her favorite sunflower apron, and the sight of it makes my throat tighten.

I climb out of the car, legs stiff from the drive, and open the back door to unbuckle Dylan. He stirs, and his eyelids flutter. He sighs.

“Hey, little man,” I whisper and brush a curl from his forehead. “We’re here.”

He blinks up at me, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Grandma’s house?”

I nod and smile back. “That’s right. Ready to see her?”

He wraps his arms around my neck, and I lift him from the car seat as Mom reaches us, arms wide, her eyes shimmering. “Oh, my darlings.” She pulls us into a hug that smells of vanilla and home. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I bury my face in her shoulder and let the comfort of her embrace wash over me. For a moment, I’m a little girl again, safe in my mother’s arms, far from the world’s troubles.

The moment breaks with Dylan’s eager wiggling. “Grandma!”

He stretches toward her, and she takes him with a laugh, smothering his face in kisses until he giggles. “There’s my favorite grandson,” she coos and settles him on her hip. “I’ve missed you so much, my little love.”

My heart swells watching them together. Amid all the uncertainty, this bond—between grandmother and grandson—is pure and unshakable.

Mom turns to me and cups my cheek. “And you. How are you holding up?”

I lean into her touch and close my eyes. “I’m…okay. Just tired. It’s been a lot.”

She nods. “I can imagine. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Come inside. I’ve got fresh cupcakes waiting.”

The mention of cupcakes makes Dylan squeal. “Cupcakes, cupcakes, cupcakes!”

Mom laughs and carries him toward the house while I grab our bags from the trunk.

Inside, the sweet scent of baking wraps around me like a warm blanket. Mixing bowls clutter the counters, and a dusting of flour covers every surface. In the center of the island sits a platter of cupcakes, their frosting swirled in perfect peaks of pink and yellow.

“Strawberry and lemon,” Mom announces, setting Dylan down on a stool. “Your favorites.”

A lump rises in my throat. It’s such a small thing, yet it reminds me of how deeply she knows and loves me.

“Thanks, Mom.” My voice wavers a little. “They look amazing.”

She smiles and places a hand on my shoulder. “Anything for my girl.”

She helps Dylan out of his jacket as he chatters about the drive, the cows we passed, and the songs we sang. She listens and smiles.

We gather around the island, Dylan on his knees, two-fisting a cupcake. I peel the wrapper from a lemon one, the tangy sweetness hitting my nose. The first bite melts in my mouth, the bright citrus cutting through the last of my tension.

For a moment, it’s just this—the kitchen’s warmth, the sound of Dylan’s laughter, the simple pleasure of homemade treats. The weight of the outside world lifts, replaced by peace.

But even as I savor the calm, the weight of my secrets presses in. I can’t hide forever. I’ll have to face Nathan and the lies that tore us apart.

An icy knot forms in my stomach, twisting tighter. I take another bite of the cupcake, letting the sweetness chase away the bitterness.

“Mommy, look!”

I see him holding up a cupcake, his hands and face smeared with frosting. His blue eyes sparkle with mischief.

I laugh and wipe a smudge from his cheek. “I see, baby. You’re making quite the mess.”

He grins, his little nose scrunching up. “It’s yummy!”

I smile, my heart full to bursting. “I’m glad. But let’s try to eat more and wear less, okay?”

He just nods and takes another bite. I watch him, marveling at how much he’s grown—my baby, now a boy, with his own thoughts and will.

Mom catches my eye. “He’s getting so big. It feels like just yesterday he was tiny.”

I nod, throat tight. “I know. Sometimes, I wish I could freeze time.”

She reaches out, her hand warm as it wraps around mine. “Watching them grow is hard, but it’s the greatest joy. Seeing the person they’re becoming.”

Tears sting my eyes. Dylan is everything to me. The thought of losing him, of having him taken away, gnaws at me every day.

Mom squeezes my hand, her gaze steady. “You can’t keep running, Amelia. At some point, you have to face this.”

I gasp for breath. “I know. I just…I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“You don’t have to do it today. But for Dylan’s sake, you’ll need to find the strength.”

I glance at my son; his face scrunched in concentration as he tries to lick the frosting from his fingers. He’s so innocent, untouched by the chaos swirling around him.

But Mom is right. I can’t run forever.

I meet her gaze. “I need a little more time.”

She smiles and squeezes my hand once more. “Take all the time you need. I’m here for you, and always will be.”

Gratitude overwhelms me. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

She waves off my thanks, her eyes twinkling. “That’s what mothers do.”

We finish our cupcakes in comfortable silence, Dylan’s eyelids growing heavy. I gather him in my arms, his head drooping against my shoulder.

“It’s time for a nap, little man,” I whisper and carry him upstairs.

In my old room, I lay him in the toddler bed, his tiny body curling around his stuffed dinosaur. I kiss his forehead and he drifts off.

I linger and stare at the boy who has become my universe. Then I slip from the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Downstairs, I find Mom in the living room, flipping through a magazine. Dad is in his recliner, the television murmuring in the background.

“Dad.” I hover in the doorway.

He glances up, and for a second, I think he’ll ignore me, but then he nods—a small acknowledgment, but more than I’ve had in years.

I sit on the couch and twist my hands in my lap, unsure of what to say.

The silence stretches, and down the street, a dog barks.

After a while, Dad clears his throat, still focused on the TV. “How long are you staying?”

The question feels like an olive branch. I take a deep breath. “A few days. I needed to get away, to think.”

He nods. “And the boy? He’s doing well?”

I smile. “He’s wonderful, Dad. He’s everything.”

For a moment, his eyes soften. “Good.”

It’s not much, but it’s something—a crack in the armor, a step forward.

I rise, my legs shaky. “I’m going to catch a nap before Dylan wakes.”

Mom wiggles her magazine. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I climb the stairs, my mind a whirl of thoughts. Here, in this house, surrounded by family, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe everything will be okay.

Slipping into bed, I close my eyes and let sleep take me. And in my dreams, Nathan is there, smiling, as if everything is as it once was.