Page 5 of Judge’s Redemption

“He's someone I knew before you were born.”

Evie accepts that more easily than I do. “He looked sad.”

“He was surprised.”

“Because I'm four and I had a pink cake?”

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Probably.”

She smiles, satisfied that the mystery has been solved. “Good night, Mommy.”

“Good night, baby.”

I leave her door open a few inches and stand in the narrow hallway listening until her breathing settles.

The rental is quiet around me. Two bedrooms, a living room barely wide enough for the secondhand couch, and a kitchen with cabinet doors that won't close unless I lift them first. The porch light flickers when I switch it on. The bad hinge on the gate scrapes every time the wind moves it. It isn't much, but it's ours.

At seven twenty-nine, an engine turns onto River Street. I know the sound before the headlight washes across the curtains. Judge's motorcycle rolls to a stop. A moment later, the gate hinge gives its ugly metal scrape. Boots cross the short path to my porch.

My anger is ready, along with years of questions I never wanted answered. The wanting is ready too, alive beneath my skin and more dangerous than either of them.

Judge knocks once and I open the door.

CHAPTER 2

JUDGE

Shay opens the door, and the sight of her hits me almost as hard as seeing the little girl did this afternoon. She's changed into soft gray shorts and a faded black shirt, her dark hair twisted up loosely. Bare legs and bare feet.

I'm this close to her again, and my body recognizes her before my head catches up with the reason I'm standing here.

Her daughter, the child with my eyes.

“We stay on the porch,” Shay says.

Her voice is cold enough to remind me that wanting her is the least important thing happening tonight. She steps outside and leaves the front door cracked. The porch is narrow, with two old chairs beneath the window, but she doesn't sit or invite me to.

I grip the railing instead. “Tell me.”

“You already worked it out.”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Her eyes meet mine. “Evie is yours.”

For a second, I don't understand the words. I know what they mean. I knew the moment I looked at the girl, but hearing Shay say them knocks something loose inside me.

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

“I have a daughter?” The question sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my mouth, but I can't stop staring at Shay as though she might tell me I heard wrong, but she doesn't.

My knees go weak enough that I lower myself into one of the chairs before my body makes the decision for me. I have a four-year-old daughter, a whole person who exists in the world because of me, and I didn't know her name until today.

“Jesus Christ, Shay.”

She flinches at the volume and glances toward the open door.