Page 8 of Judge’s Redemption

“I know, but it felt right at the time.”

She presses her lips together, fighting whatever wants to come out next. I look at the woman I've wanted every day since she left and understand that no explanation can return those years to her either.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Not because King lied. I'm sorry because I made sure you'd believe him.”

Her throat moves. It isn't forgiveness. I don't expect it to be.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“Nothing happens now.”

“She's my daughter Shay.”

“And she doesn't know you.”

“I want to know her.”

“That isn't enough.”

“No. But it's where I'm starting.”

Shay folds her arms. “You don't walk into her life and claim her because you saw her once on Main Street.”

“I'm not walking away.”

“You did before.”

“I won't again.”

Her eyes flash. “You don't get to make promises I'm expected to trust five minutes after explaining why your last ones were lies.”

Anger sparks beneath the guilt. Not at her. At all the truth in what she's saying. “I'm asking to see my daughter.”

“And I'm telling you it'll be on my terms.”

“Fine.”

She blinks, as though she expected me to fight harder.

“Tomorrow,” she says. “Half past five. Here. I'll be in the room, and you don't tell her who you are.”

The words cut, but I nod.

“She doesn't call you Daddy. She doesn't get promises. Not yet.”

“I understand that you're protecting her from me.”

Her expression flickers.

“And I understand why,” I add.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The porch light buzzes overhead. Somewhere down the street, a dog starts barking. Shay looks tired suddenly. Angry, beautiful, and exhausted.

Want hits me again, hot enough to feel wrong in the middle of everything else. My gaze drops to her mouth.

She notices. “Don't.”

It isn't a strong enough word.