He couldn’t even bring himself to reply to what could only be Sarah’s attempt at getting his pity. Right about now pity was the last emotion he felt for her.
His emotions toward her ran the gauntlet. Something so close to hate vibrated through him, but beneath it, barely breathing, was the ember of that hopeless ache for her that linked them.
Even vulnerable, distraught and visibly close to tears she was lovely. And so delicate.
Despite his rage, there was still that confounding gut-level instinct to want to comfort her. To pull her into his arms and hold her. To do what he could to take away the distress and guilt from her face. To forgive her.
Which is how you know you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, mate.
Sarah didn’t deserve his pity. She didn’t deserve anything from him but disgust.
Had he ever really known her? How could he have loved—and thought he was falling in love with again—a woman who could keep such a massive, life-changing secret from him?
“Ian, you were never supposed to know.” Her words sounded half-assed now. As if she just wanted him to say it was okay and that he could understand why she’d done what she had.
He doubted he would ever be okay, but as much as he hated to admit it, he could almost understand her choices. Could see her how she’d rationalized it.
Who wanted their kid to have a felon for a father?
“It’s why I didn’t bring her to the island when I came. Why I’ve never come back until now,” she continued. “If you’d never found out, you’d be oblivious.”
“Oblivious through your doing. And unfortunately, I’m not oblivious anymore. I’m—” He shook his head, thrusting his fingers through his hair, “—not even sure what the hell I am. Or who I am. Though, apparently, I’m a father.”
Fuck it all. A manic laugh exploded from his throat and again he had to curl his hands into fists.
She shook her head and her voice was low as she said, “Listen, you don’t have to keep saying that. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you don’t want kids.”
“Now how the hell would you know that?”
Dismay flickered across her face. “Are you serious? You told me just this morning you didn’t want any.”
He dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “It’s habitual. I’ve said it for so long, it’s just what I say.”
That seemed to really take the wind from her sail. She reared back, fear flashing in her eyes now.
“I don’t understand. What do you want from us, Ian? What do you want me to do?”
That was a loaded question. Christ, he didn’t even know himself.
“I don’t know, honestly. I need to think.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
This time he bit back the snort of disdain. “No. What could you possibly have to think about now? The ball is in my court, doll. You have no right to try and call the shots from here on out. Got it?”
The fear amplified in her eyes. “You’re not going to take my daughter from me.”
She moved quickly toward the front door, but he intercepted her—suspecting she was going to find Emily. He caught her arm and swung her back around with more momentum than needed and her body crushed against his.
Sarah tried to shove at his chest to get away, but he caught her wrists to keep her still. Her words still resounded in his head.
“Your daughter? Try our daughter. It’s a reality you’d better bloody well start getting used to.”
The fight left her in an instant and she gave a strangled sob. Instead of pulling away, her weight crumpled against him and her head brushed against his chest.
Instinct had him releasing a wrist and sliding a hand up her back. It was an unintended gesture of comfort as he struggled with his thoughts. Having her in his arms—broken and afraid—he was all too aware of himself as a man against her small, feminine frame.
It was too easy to remember them in bed together. To envision her surrender and cries of pleasure as she lay beneath him.
No. He clenched his jaw at the way his blood immediately began to heat. He needed to remember the circumstances. This wasn’t just about him and Sarah. There was Emily now.
A sudden thought sent tension spiraling through him and he eased his hand up to the back of her neck. His fingers stroked in a gentle warning.
“Don’t even think about leaving the island again, Sarah—of taking Emily and leaving.”
She hesitated a bit too long for his liking, before she answered with a husky, “No, I wasn’t going to.”
“Because if you do,” he continued, his tone soft and dark with warning, “I will track you down. And I promise I won’t be happy.”