Page 39 of Fractured Destiny

Lake glances at me. “Persistent.”

“Stubborn.” I pay for our drinks without giving in to the will of my toddler.

“I wonder where he gets it,” Lake mutters.

I raise an eyebrow.

A few minutes later, Lake collects all of our drinks and we settle into a booth by the window. Levi climbs in beside me, pressing against my side while I peel back the lid and stir the chocolate to cool it.

He reaches for the mug.

“What do we do first?” I catch his wrist.

He puffs out his cheeks. “Bwow.”

“Good job.”

He blows with complete concentration before taking his first careful sip. “Mmmm.”

“Worth the wait?”

His head bobs hard enough to leave whipped cream on the end of his nose. I wipe it away with my thumb. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Across the table, Lake wraps both hands around his coffee, watching our exchange. He hasn’t taken a sip. He’s not staring.

More like absorbing.

The way Levi curls over his mug with complete concentration. How he swings one boot beneath the bench while the other stays hooked around the table leg. The tiny crease between his eyebrows every time he decides whether another sip is worth the risk of a hot tongue.

Levi doesn’t notice. He’s busy with whipped cream and chocolate and watching a dog walker out the window. When they disappear around the corner, his eyes wander across the table and on Lake for a second before flicking away shyly.

A minute passes. Levi chances another glance. This one lingers.

Lake doesn’t move. Not even a smile. He simply lets his son look at him.

I recognize the restraint. It doesn’t come naturally.

For weeks I watched him fight every instinct in Dr. Meyers’ office. He wanted instant gratification. Immediate access. Instead, he listened. Asked questions. Filled page after page in a notebook with bedtime routines, favorite foods, sleep schedules, little rituals most parents figure out as they go.

Now he’s doing the hardest part.

Nothing.

Levi rests his cheek against my arm while he drinks.

Across the table, Lake finally remembers the coffee cooling in front of him. He lifts the cup, takes a sip and sets it back down.

His eyes drift to Levi again and he allows himself to smile.

I nearly choke on my mocha, the resemblance catches me so off guard. Their matching curls, eyes, and dimples are obvious.

But the pause.

They both stop and study the world before deciding what to do with it. With a slight tilt of their heads. A quiet certainty once they’ve made up their minds.

I’ve spent nineteen months finding superficial pieces of Lake in my son. Watching them sit across from each other, I realize I hadn’t dug deeper.

For one reckless moment, I allow myself to remember the man across from me instead of the father. The warmth of his hands on my body. His tongue buried in my pussy. Riding his cock all night long.