Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

LUCA

How is it possible for a human so little to have such excruciating screams?

It’s a miracle Leigh can still hear after being in such proximity to the tiny banshee.

I bundle myself deeper into my coat and step closer to the bonfire pit to keep warm. But mostly to stop myself from crossing the deck and demanding Leigh let me into the guesthouse.

Not that I would know what the hell to do, because I absolutely don’t. The last time I was around a toddler was when my sister was the toddler. Seeing as I’m only four-and-a-half years older than her, the most I did was hand her a toy to soothe her.

Still, I don’t understand how Leigh can stand listening to him cry like this.

It’s heartbreaking.

Then again, he’s been fighting against her request to go to bed for the last forty-five minutes, so maybe we are approaching it being a tad dramatic.

I’m just grateful Holt insisted on renting out the entire property, including the guesthouse, even though we didn’t plan to use the additional rooms. I can’t even imagine having to explain to someone that we’re not trying to kill this kid. He just doesn’t want to go to bed. As it is, I have no idea how I’m going to hide them from the guys for the next two days. But that’s a problem for future Luca because I have to admit, I like the idea of having Zach close by.

Leigh, on the other hand, was not thrilled with the proximity.

Zach lets out another wail and my chest constricts, wishing I could stop his cries.

Is this what it’s like to become a parent? Is this that instantaneous love the guys who have kids on the team were always talking about?

I think back to his sweet toothy smile and messy hair the same shade of white blonde as his mother’s. His blue eyes that, if not for the white hue that line his irises would be identical to mine.

I’ve always wanted kids—eventually—but I never considered who’d they’d be or what they’d look like. I never wondered if they’d like baseball or have a penchant for piano like my brother. I’ve never asked myself if I’d be a good dad.

One look at that little boy and I’m considering every single one of those things and so much more.

While Zach brought out this whimsical paternal side of me, seeing Leigh made me want to rage in a way I hadn’t expected. It took everything in me not to go off on her on the tarmac.

She’s the reason I missed his entrance into the world.

The reason I never heard his first words or witnessed his first steps.

And yet she’s still the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

It’s unfair the way I’d like nothing more than to take her over my knee and spank her for her sins. Only to follow it up with getting on my knees for her and begging her to forgive me for mine. Followed by a desperate plea to allow me to be a part of my son's life.

Talk about emotional whiplash.

My brain is a scary place to be at the moment.

Another twenty minutes pass before quiet takes over the guesthouse. Even though I’m fairly certain my toes are numb and on the verge of frostbite, I wait another ten before I pick up my peace offering of expensive wine and tequila and cross the deck.

The bottles clink together as I struggle to hold them in one hand and lift the other to knock.

Once.

Twice.

The door whips open, and Leigh is there before my knuckles hit a third time. “What the fuck are you th?—”

She doesn’t get to finish her statement when, from the back of the guesthouse, Zach lets out an endless wail.

“Fucking damn it.” Leigh's shoulders sag in defeat, and I immediately feel like shit.

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter in panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think?—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Leigh cuts me off, her eyes darting from me to the direction of Zach’s room.

“What the hell does that mean?” I counter. Hackles instantly raised despite the fact they help exactly no one in this situation.

Leigh rolls her big blue eyes and sighs. “Nothing. What are you even doing here? Because if it’s not an emergency, I’m kinda busy.”

God, I’m fucking this up. I didn’t come over here to fight.

Or maybe I did.

But I didn’t mean to make things worse.

Pushing down my pride, I ask, “How can I help?”

“You’ve done enough.” Her rejection is a slap to the face, but at least she doesn’t slam the door in it. Instead, she turns on her heel and heads to the back of the small apartment.

The thought of leaving doesn’t even cross my mind.

Setting the bottles on the small kitchen island, I follow Leigh down the hallway, past the main bedroom and to the smaller room that doubles as a guest room and office space.

The glow from the Christmas lights I strung around the window illuminates enough of the room that I can see her approach the daybed. She sits on top of what looks like a large pile of pillows tucked under the sheet, making a wall between the edge and where Zach lays. Leigh’s voice softens as she coaxes the overtired two-year-old to lie down and go back to sleep.

Zach, of course, has other plans.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, he shoots up and wraps his tiny arms around his mom’s waist.

“Tay,” Zach whimpers against her, and Leigh immediately begins to rub her hand up and down his back to soothe him.

At this point, I’d like to say I’m keeping it together, but I’m seconds away from losing it. This simple act of a mother tending to her son is like watching a movie in a foreign language. My mother would never have shown us that kind of tenderness. My siblings and I had nannies and each other.

This is—it’s everything.

“I’m just across the hall, my sweet boy,” Leigh reassures him. “And I can see you just like I can at home.” She points to the small camera on top of the bedside table she must have brought with her.

Zach’s sleepy gaze tracks across the bed and back up to Leigh. “Sea.”

She heaves a sigh—one even I can see is filled with nothing but love—and leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Okay. Last time though.”

“Sea,” Zach repeats as he lies back and snuggles down into the comforter. He clings to the stuffed horse he arrived with, and I get the feeling he’s never without.

Leaning against the doorframe like a damn voyeur, I watch as Leigh’s shoulders rise with an inhale, and when they fall, she begins to sing.

My jaw drops, and if I wasn’t already adhering to a vow of silence in order to not wake Zach again, I’d be too stunned to make a sound.

The lullaby isn’t a happy one, only made more hauntingly beautiful by the woman who takes each word and gives it life. I swear I’ve heard it somewhere before, though I’m not sure where. It’s about a mother singing to her daughter, telling her to go where the wind meets the sea—to follow the truth but not lose sight of who you are and drown.

There is no way it's a kid's bedtime song. At the same time, I completely understand why Zach likes it. Especially when it’s Leigh singing like she is right now. It’s almost ethereal. Which is not a word I would ever use to describe the blonde spitfire. But this vulnerable side she saves for her son—this side of her I didn’t know existed—it’s magic.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the room go silent or Leigh move to stand in front of me. It’s only when she grunts that I look up and find her soft and loving gaze has been replaced with daggers.

“Out. Now,” she rasps low enough there’s barely any sound.

And just like that, we're back to the inevitable fight brewing between us. It needs to happen, but now that I’ve seen her with Zach, I’m not sure I want to.

I just want to be on the same page.

Sliding out of the doorway, I gesture for her to lead the way and follow silently behind.

When she reaches the kitchen, she grabs the bottle of tequila and points a finger at the couch in the attached living room. “Sit. Now.”

“Do you want me to get you a glass?”

“Oh no, the time for glasses and polite conversation has passed.” There’s fire in her gaze as she twists off the cap and brings the bottle to her lips…and takes two long pulls of what is absolutely not shooting tequila—not that I’m about to correct her. “Right now, you’re going to get your ass outside, and we are going to get a few things straight.”

It might be the point-blank order, or maybe it’s the fire in her gaze paired with the knowledge that—despite her hating me—I know what it sounds like hearing her cry my name when she comes. Either way, I’m pretty sure there’s no world in which this situation should make my dick twitch. Yet here I am, ready to mutter an emphatic yes, ma’am and do whatever she says.

“It’s forty-one degrees outside,” I remind her softly, not wanting to talk back, but also my toes are only just getting feeling back in them.

“And?”

“Even by the fire, it’s fucking cold.”

Leigh huffs a sardonic laugh. “Well, you should have thought of that before you came barging in here, waking up my over tired, out of sorts toddler. Who, I might add, wouldn't even be out of sorts if it wasn’t for your insistence that I had to come here to do my job.”

Is she fucking kidding me?

If I wasn’t ready to fight, I am now.

“It seems to me you are forgetting some key details in that recap, don’t you think? How about the part where you never told me about the fact we made a fucking child together, so that’s why I had to do whatever it took to get you here?”

Okay, so that might be stretching the truth a little, but I don’t give a shit. I am not the only one at fault here.

I eat the space between us in two long strides until I’m only inches in front of her. She cranes her neck to meet my gaze, and I zero in on the small vein bulging just above her left eye.

“Outside,” she demands through a clenched jaw.

“No.”

Her chest brushes against mine as her breath hitches, her voice straining to keep it together. “Luca, I swear to God, I will kill you if that little boy wakes up again. So if you want to keep your body void of any kitchen knives, I suggest you get your savory, little Italian ass outside.”

God, she’s delicious when she’s riled up.

I arch a brow. “My ass is savory?”

Never did I imagine her being an ass kind of woman, but I’ll save that away for later.

“Out,” she growls.

Picking up the bottle of tequila, as I’m sure she’ll appreciate the liquid sweater when she realizes just how cold it is, I head for the door with Leigh hot on my heels. She grabs her hoodie from the hook and silently slides into the chair on the opposite side of the firepit.

The fire dances between us, its crackle the only sound before Leigh heaves a great sigh, losing some of her fight. “We can’t argue like that in front of Zach.”

“Agreed.” I nod.

“He doesn’t like it when people yell.”

Immediately, I’m on the defensive. “Did something happen?”

Who do I need to kill?

Leigh rolls her eyes. “No, he’s almost two. He’s afraid of his own shadow. Yelling just scares him.”

My brow furrows as I recall our conversation the day before and how old she said Zach was. “Almost two? I thought he was two.”

Leigh stands up and rounds the firepit, grabbing the bottle of tequila from the table beside me. She takes another long pull and heads back to her chair, bottle in hand. “His birthday is January 1st. It’s just easier to say two since we’re so close.”

Yet another thing I didn’t know about him.

Is this how it’s always going to feel? Like I’m late to the game, trying to figure out the rules and regulations while having one hand tied behind my back. My fists clench in my lap, and the anger that has ebbed and flowed since I learned about Zach rears its ugly head.

“Anything else I should know about my son?”

“No.” Leigh doesn’t hesitate. Which only serves to annoy me further.

“Is it terrible I find that hard to believe?” I seethe, teetering between wanting to fight with her and pleading for her to understand where I’m coming from.

Her eyes glitter through the fire. Fierce. Steeled. Resolved. “I’m only doing what’s best for Zach.”

“And that’s shutting me out?” I snap, my voice dancing a line of irate and desperate.

“For now? Maybe.”

“What the hell does that mean?” My nostrils flare as my grasp on the conversation slips further and further away from me.

This isn’t how this is supposed to go. I knew we’d have our issues. I knew I’d have to grovel a bit to fix what I broke all those years ago. But I never expected she'd admit point-blank to wanting to keep me from my son.

And yet I understand it.

I hate it.

But I understand it.

She doesn’t know me. Not anymore. Not that she really did. She only ever saw what my mother wanted her to see. Because that’s how it was growing up a Donati.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as I run my hand through my hair, my gaze lost in the fire.

“You’re not the only guy I slept with that week.” Her words are little more than a shy whisper, but they carry the weight of a sledgehammer, garnering my full attention.

Time stops as I work out what she’s implying.

That means?—

I might not be?—

But his eyes.

They’re my eyes.

My heart seizes in my chest as it shatters for the life I’ve been building in my head for the last twenty-four hours.

Fuck.

I did it again.

Got ahead of myself—jumped in head first without all the facts.

But it’s never backfired like this. Somehow, everything always ends up working out.

It never felt like a dream was being ripped away.

I’m Luca fucking Donati.

I make things happen.

I don’t fail.

Which only goes to show how badly I wanted this to be a reality.

Lifting my gaze from the fiery logs, I’m greeted with Leigh’s pitying stare.

My voice is strained when I finally find it. “So he’s not mine?”

“There’s—” She fumbles over the words. “There’s a possibility Zach isn’t your son.”

“Your son?” Two shocked voices echo Leigh's words, and I curse at the universe’s version of karmic retribution.

Fuck . I don’t need this right now.

Leigh and I both turn toward the voices, but I don’t need to look to know that the night just got more complicated for me.

Standing at the entrance to the deck from the driveway are my brother, Holt, and Bash—the latter two with their jaws hanging wide open.

“Your timing is impeccable,” I grit out, eyes locked on my twin.

Enzo shrugs. “You knew we’d be back when the day slope session was over. It’s not my fault you chose to keep her outside instead of hidden away like you promised.”

Fucking hell.

Leigh whips her head back to me. “Hidden away?”

A shit-eating grin creeps across Enzo’s face. Clearly, he knew his choice of words would no doubt cause problems.

I shoot him a death glare as if to say, what the fuck, you’re supposed to be my twin. That means you’re on my side.

He just shrugs.

I will so fucking remember this moment the next time he needs me to cover for him.

“Will someone tell me what is going on and who the hell this is?” Bash asks as he opens the waist-height gate and crosses the deck, haphazardly tossing his snowboard to the floor. Enzo and Holt follow closely behind and do the same.

“Leigh James,” Leigh says as she stands and takes an uneasy step away from the two assholes coming in hot with scowls on their faces.

They both give her a cursory glance before returning their wrath to me.

“What the fuck is this about?” Holt demands.

I expected them to freak out, but that’s got nothing on the hurt etched across their faces. I’m two for two on fucking up today.

“I’m—I’m sorry to crash your vacation,” Leigh stammers, trying to defuse the situation. “Luca’s doing me a favor, since we have to get some work done before the end of the year.”

“Seriously?” Bash snaps at the same time Holt yells, “What the fuck, Luca? Work and pussy? You know the rules.”

Leigh glances at me, a brow raised. “I take it you didn’t tell them.”

“They weren’t supposed to see you,” I grumbled before turning to my friends. “I’ll explain everything inside.”

Leigh lifts a hand and presses her lips together. “No need. I should be getting inside to make sure Zach’s still asleep. I’ll see about getting out of your hair tomorrow, guys.”

“Oh no, little thief,” I say, closing the distance between us and wrapping a hand around her bicep. “We aren’t finished yet.”

“I think we are.” She looks down at my hand and back up at me.“You only call me that when you’re angry.”

“And think I have every right to be.”

“Honestly, you can stay, Leigh,” Bash purrs. “Luca is the one who can find his way home.”

“I should go.” Leigh pulls her hand from the pocket of her hoodie, wraps her dainty fingers around mine, and loosens them from her arm. “We can talk in the morning.”

I should say yes and let her walk away.

But of course, when it comes to this woman, I can’t help but pour gasoline on the raging fire between us.

“I want a paternity test.” The words roll off my tongue more harshly than I intend, but the desired effect is there.

Bottom line, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who doesn’t like to lose.

Leigh’s shoulders deflate, but it doesn’t feel as good as I thought it might. She nods as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a clear plastic bag that I didn’t know she had, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. “I figured you would.”

Stretching out her hand, she offers it to me. Inside are two swabs, each in individual test tubes and a second one that is sealed. “This already has Zach’s DNA. You just need to swab your cheek and stick it in the mail.”

My lips part in shock but quickly twist in a sneer. “You think I’m going to trust that you actually swabbed his cheek and didn't just give me yours, so you could keep him from me?”

Leigh winces.

God, I just keep digging this hole, but I can’t stop myself. It’s like an accident—and I’m watching myself crash and burn because I can’t see past my own anger.

At myself for believing I could have the family I’ve always wanted.

At Enzo for not doing his damn job and keeping the guys away.

Again, at myself, for thinking this was a good idea in the first place.

At Leigh for keeping all these fucking secrets from me.

“I deserve that,” she agrees, “which is why the second one in there is mine. They can test it and prove he’s my son, and then yours will be the wildcard.”

My eyes lock on the test in my hand, and I stand there, dumbfounded—unsure of how to deal with the ache in my chest or the guilt in my soul.

God, this is a clusterfuck.

When I finally look up, Leigh is already halfway across the deck, muttering another round of “sorry” to Bash, Holt, and Enzo as she makes her way to the guesthouse.

My eyes stay glued to her until the door is securely closed.

“You have some serious fucking explaining to do,” Bash grunts, grabbing the bottle of tequila Leigh left behind.

Holt crosses the path and bumps my shoulder with his fist as he makes his way to one of the free chairs by the fire. “Yeah, what happened to bros before hoes?”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I snap. Leigh might be the sniper holding the rifle zeroed in on my life, but she’s still possibly the mother of my child.

“No, but seriously.” Bash takes a long pull from the bottle. “Does this mean I can bring home the sweet little German girl from the slopes? Or do I have to have a baby with her for that privilege?”

His sarcasm lifts a slight weight from my chest. Bash’s joking means we’ll be okay. Not that he’s going to let me off easily, but it tells me he’ll at least hear me out. Holt will follow suit.

My brother offers a wicked I-told-you-so grin. “On that note, I’ll grab another bottle of tequila.”

Cheeky bastard.