Page 35 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

“Not for a long time.”

He didn’t offer to take me out on Mars. I wouldn’t have accepted.

This, these dark nights, were all I’d let myself have of Knox.

Drake was making progress and before long, these visits would stop. We’d return to being his temporary tenants. I’d be his coworker, rarely crossing his path. And someday, I’d move on. When that day came, I needed my heart intact. My whole heart.

Drake’s crying began to ebb, shifting from a broken string of screams to a whine between hitched breaths.

“There we go,” Knox murmured, his hand splayed on the baby’s back. The broad shoulder, the hum of our conversation, worked like a charm on Drake every time.

“Shouldn’t it be me who makes him stop crying?” The admission slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Guilt and shame clouded my voice. It should be me, shouldn’t it? Drake was mine.

“You are.” Knox paused in front of me, towering over me with my tiny son in his massive arms. “You let me in the door, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough. For Drake’s sake, for him to get some rest, I’d set aside my pride and let Knox step in to help.

The woman who actually earned his strong arms for real hugs would be a lucky, lucky girl. I snuggled deeper into my blanket, curling my legs beneath me as I followed Knox’s every step.

Exhaustion was a constant companion to my waking moments. The only reason I was able to keep my eyes open was because the picture of Knox and Drake was one I didn’t want to miss. It was the reason I chose the couch over snuggling into bed.

Watching them together was a dream. A fantasy of a different life had I made better choices.

Drake had stopped crying and was moments away from sleep. This interlude was nearly over. For my son’s sake, I was grateful. For mine . . .

It would be difficult to close the door behind Knox when he left.

A yawn stretched my lips and I waved it off. “Sorry.”

“Now you’re apologizing for yawning?” He shot me a grin as he passed the couch.

“My father once scolded me for yawning during a meeting. I apologized then and haven’t stopped since.”

It was the first time I’d mentioned my father aloud. For over a month, I’d kept my past locked away. I’d dodged questions about my family and the reasons why I’d moved across the country. Sleep deprivation had caused my walls to drop.

Or maybe it was just Knox. He shared freely. He made me want to do the same.

“Seriously?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“You don’t talk about your family.”

“I don’t talk about much.”

“This is true.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Where are your parents?”

I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I figured you’d ask eventually. But I haven’t figured out how to answer that question yet.”

“It’s a simple question, Memphis.”

“Then the simple answer is New York.”

“What’s the complicated answer?”

“The truth makes my family seem . . . ugly.” As frustrated as I was with them, I didn’t want strangers to think they were bad people. They were who they were. Distant. Self-absorbed. Proud. They were the product of their surroundings and extreme, selfish wealth.

Once, I hadn’t been all that different. Maybe they were ugly. But their awful actions had been the catalyst to my change. Because of them, I would be a better person. Despite them.