Chapter 41
Adam's POV:
Amy wasn't going to daycare today.
I'd shown up at Maya's apartment around three in the afternoon, armed with takeout from that taco place Amy liked and a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the bakery on Newbury Street.
The second I knocked, Amy flung the door open.
"Adam!" She beamed up at me. "You came!"
"Course I came," I said. Ruffled her hair. "Ready to go to the park?"
She nodded so hard her blonde curls bounced.
We spent the afternoon at the Boston Common. Amy ran ahead of me on the path, stopping every few feet to point at dogs, pigeons, street performers. Her energy was fucking contagious.
I bought her an ice cream cone. She got vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. Made a mess of it within seconds.
"You're supposed to lick it, not wear it," I said.
She giggled. Stuck her tongue out at me.
We were heading back toward the apartment when it happened.
A kid—maybe six or seven—came tearing down the sidewalk, chasing after a soccer ball. Didn't see Amy standing there with her milk carton.
He slammed right into her.
Amy stumbled. The milk went everywhere. Splashed all over the front of her yellow dress.
"Amy!" I dropped to one knee. "You okay?"
She looked down at herself.
"It's okay," I said quickly. Pulled out a handful of napkins from my pocket. Started dabbing at the wet fabric. "It's just milk. We'll get you cleaned up."
But the napkins weren't doing shit. The dress was soaked through.
"I need to go home," Amy said in a small voice. "I need to change. Right now."
"Okay. We'll go."
I walked her back to the apartment, one hand on her shoulder. She kept tugging at the damp fabric, her face scrunched up in discomfort.
The second we got inside, she bolted for her room.
Click.
She locked the door.
I walked back to the living room. Dropped onto the couch. Pulled out my phone.
Knock knock knock.
I sat up. Frowned.
Who the hell is that?
I glanced toward Amy's door. Still closed.
Knock knock knock.
I stood. Crossed to the door.
Did Maya forget her keys?
I pulled the door open.
And froze.
A man stood in the hallway.
Tall. Brown hair. Mid-thirties, maybe. Dressed in dark jeans and a casual button-down.
He looked at me. Blinked.
I stared back.
Who the fuck is this?
"Uh." The guy glanced at the apartment number. Then back at me. "Sorry. I think I have the wrong—"
"Who are you?" I cut him off. My voice came out flat. Cold.
He hesitated. "I'm… looking for Maya Bennett. This is her place, right?"
"Yeah."
Was this some ex? Some guy she'd been seeing in Boston?
Was that why she kept pushing me away? Because she was already—
"I'm Ryan Morrison," the guy said. "Maya's brother."
I blinked.
Brother?
The tension in my shoulders eased.
"Her brother," I repeated.
"Yeah." He smiled. A little awkward. "Sorry. I should've led with that."
Brother. Not boyfriend.
I felt a surge of relief so strong it almost made me dizzy.
"Adam Sterling," I said. Stepped aside. "Come in."
Ryan walked past me into the apartment. I shut the door behind him.
"So," he said. "You're Maya's… boyfriend?"
"Not yet." I leaned against the wall. Crossed my arms. "Still working on it."
He moved toward the couch. Sat down. I stayed where I was.
"You two living together?" Ryan asked.
"No."
"But you're here."
"I'm watching Amy."
"Ah." He nodded. Paused. "Where is Amy?"
"In her room. Changing."
"She okay?"
"Fine. Just got milk on her dress."
"Got it."
Silence.
Ryan shifted on the couch. Glanced toward the hallway.
I studied him.
"You don't look like her," I said.
Ryan laughed. "Yeah. Different dads."
I frowned. "Different dads?"
"Same mom. Different dads." He shrugged.
Wait.
I straightened. "Amy's last name is Bennett."
"Yeah."
"Not Morrison."
"No."
I felt something cold slide down my spine.
"Why not?" I asked slowly.
Ryan hesitated. "What do you mean?"
"Amy's your daughter, right? Why doesn't she have your last name?"
Ryan stared at me.
For a long moment, he didn't say anything.
His eyes flickered with something I couldn't read.
Then: "Why doesn't Amy have my last name?"
"Yeah."
He blinked. Looked away. Then back at me.
A strange expression crossed his face. Like he was trying to work something out.
"Our mom's last name is Bennett," he said slowly. "Amy grew up with her. Our mom wanted her to have the family name."
I frowned. "Your mom raised her?"
"Yeah. For a while." Ryan's smile was tight. Forced. "It's… complicated."
Complicated.
Everything about this family seemed fucking complicated.
I thought back to five years ago. To Cleveland.
Maya had mentioned her mom once or twice. And a brother. But she'd never talked about her father.
Never called home in front of me. Never went back for holidays.
That Christmas, I'd gone to Boston for two days. When I came back, she'd spent it alone in the apartment.
I'd felt like shit about it. Should've stayed with her.
I'd figured her relationship with her family was strained. But she never said anything. And I never pushed.
Back then, I was hiding my own identity. Didn't want her asking too many questions about my family.
Click.
Amy's door opened.
She padded out into the living room, wearing a clean blue dress now.
She stopped when she saw Ryan sitting on the couch.
Her eyes went wide.
Ryan smiled. Waved. "Hey, Amy. Come here, sweetheart."
Amy didn't move.
She looked at me instead. Walked straight to my side.
I put a hand on her shoulder.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
She nodded. But she didn't take her eyes off Ryan.
Ryan's smile faltered. "It's okay, Amy. It's me. Your… your dad."
Amy just stared at him.
No recognition. No excitement.
Nothing.
Ryan cleared his throat. "She's a little shy around me now. It's been a while."
A while?
I straightened. Looked at him hard.
"How long is 'a while'?"
"A few months."
"Months?"
"Like I said. It's complicated."
I felt anger rising hot in my chest.
"Amy's four years old," I said. My voice came out flat. Cold. "And you haven't seen her in months. What kind of father does that?"
Ryan stood. His jaw tight. "You don't know the situation."
"I know enough." I stepped forward. Felt Amy's hand grip the back of my shirt. "Maya's got a full-time job. She's living in a cramped apartment. Barely making ends meet. And she's raising your daughter alone."
"I know that—"
"Then why are you dumping her on Maya?"
"I'm not dumping her—"
"What would you call it?"
Ryan's face went red. "My situation is complicated right now. I can't take Amy with me. Maya agreed to help. Just for a little while longer."
"A little while longer?" I repeated. "How long has Maya been doing this?"
The door swung open.
Maya walked in.
She froze.
Her eyes landed on me. Then Ryan. Then back to me.
"What are you doing here?"