“Paid her.” Aileen’s voice cut through his with definitive certainty. “Of course you didn’t.”
He looked at her, surprised. It wouldn’t have been a stretch to assume that in his stupid youth he’d done so. Either through peer pressure or just a willingness to make a stupid error go away. “How did you know?”
“Because I know you.” She hopped down and put the half-empty bottle in the fridge, grabbing a full one. She walked the few steps over to him, skirting her two-seater kitchen table and sitting next to him on the couch. They didn’t touch, but she handed him the unopened bottle. As he cracked the seal, she turned to sit cross-legged, her back against the arm, facing him. “You’re secretive and distrusting and you can be a total ass. But you’re not a guy who pays for sex.”
“I guess that’s something,” he muttered. He took a large swig of water to wash the dust away that coated his throat. “When they cracked down on the circle of women—you might have heard when it happened—they got the ring leader and most of her girls.”
“I heard,” she said quietly. “Big news, at the time.”
“A couple of the ladies were free, mostly because they were too new to rate the PD’s time and attention. A few guys—like Jerry—were in trouble, because they’d been stupid enough to be seen in public with them. I guess they just thought they were invincible.” He lifted one shoulder. I made a stupid mistake, but thank God I didn’t make it that big. Emma wasn’t picked out, either. Though we knew if she stayed around here, someone would say something. So, she left. I thought that was it. I’d escaped, she’d escaped, and it was over.”
“And . . . your son?” Her voice cracked a little as she asked.
He glanced at her from the side, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t fear anymore that held him back, but over six years of habit. Of convincing himself the truth was ugly.
“She came back a few weeks later. She’s pregnant and swears it’s mine.”
“You believed her.”
He raised a brow. “I didn’t not believe her, but I didn’t take her word for it, either. So she headed back up to Las Vegas—that’s where she and Charlie live—and I paid for her doctor’s appointments. Figured it was the least I could do, and if the kid wasn’t mine, I’d write it off as a good deed. He was born, we had him tested—using an attorney to keep my name quiet—and it was official.”
She nodded slowly, then held out her hand for the water. She took a sip herself, staring at the floor as if in a daze. “Why all the way in Vegas? Why not around here?”
“At the time, it was the big news story. We didn’t want people who knew—or guessed—what Emma’s former job was, seeing us, putting two and two together, and figuring out the whole thing. Vegas was a fresh start for Emma, and then she had Charlie. We wanted none of it to touch him. Emma started over there; she’s a real estate agent, and doing pretty good. I visit as much as I can—which isn’t often during season. And we meet up sometimes when I’m on the road, if we can. We just keep it quiet, stay private, and I don’t mention I’ve got a kid.”
“But you haven’t met up with him this season, have you?” She watched him closely. “Is that . . . because of me? Because I’ve been around you so much?”
“Freckles, I . . .” he started, then saw her eyes heat. She sensed bullshit coming on and wanted none of it. “Yeah. I would have seen him in San Francisco, but I asked them not to come.”
She settled back, a stunned look on her face. Raising one fisted hand to her chest, she blinked slowly. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It sort of is.” Her eyes closed. “This was all one big bowl of crazy from the start, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, hands clasped.
“Is this the part where you ask me to not write the story?”
Killian’s grip tightened, until his knuckles turned white. “I’m not going to do that. You’ll do whatever you have to.” Slapping his hands on his knees, he stood. “I need to get back before Charlie eats Mrs. Reynolds out of her apartment.” He breathed heavily. “You know, Emma’s a great mom. That shocked me from the start, but it’s true. She’s always been great with Charlie. It’s me and her who bump heads from time to time.”
“And are you a great dad?”
He looked at her from the door, surprised. “Who’s asking?”
“Freckles,” she said, watching him closely. “Just Freckles.”