Falling for Flynn (3 page)

He had to leave, before it was too late.

“I want us to catch up. Is that too much to ask?”

Hell, yeah. Catching up would involve talking and she’d never be able to hide the truth from him, not in some cozy, intimate setting with him using those darn eyes to pin her down.

“Hey, Mom. Who’s this?”

Ah hell. Not now. Not like this.

Her stomach roiled with nerves, protectiveness making her want to grab Adam and shove him behind her, away from Flynn’s astute stare as Adam ran up to them and dropped his school bag at her feet.

This was what she’d wanted to avoid. A confrontation she hadn’t prepared for, a confrontation she would’ve avoided at all costs.

Forcing a contorted smile that made her face ache, she placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Adam, this is Flynn. I used to know him back in high school.”

“Cool. Was my mom a nerd back then?”

The boy looked up at him and Flynn almost reeled back, shock peppering his body like enemy gunfire.

Lori had a son.

And staring into the boy’s eyes was like looking in a mirror.

Gray. Gunmetal gray, the same peculiar color as his own, the color he’d inherited from his grandfather, the man who had raised him, the man he owed.

No freaking way.

It couldn’t be …

He blinked, squared his shoulders, fighting the growing realization filling him with a confusing jumble of dread and shock and anger.

The kid had eyes exactly like his.

The kid looked old enough to be his.

What the hell was going on?

As the boy continued to stare at him with open curiosity, Flynn recovered enough to say, “Your mom loved school, so do you think that made her a nerd?”

Adam pondered the question for a moment before answering. “Nah, it probably made her smart. She knows everything.”

Not everything
.

She should’ve told him about this child.

If she was so damn smart, why hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him he had a son?

Torn between wanting to bend down and wrap the boy in his arms — which would scare the hell out of him — and wanting to wring Lori’s neck for denying him the opportunity to be a father, he settled for somewhere in between.

He stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Adam. I’m an old friend of your mom, so would you mind if I hung around a bit? Had a chat with her, caught up on old times?”

He watched Lori’s eyes widening, glimpsed fear. Good, she deserved to be frightened because by the time he finished she’d be clear on his exact feelings regarding this whole fiasco.

Adam only hesitated a moment. “Mom doesn’t have lots of friends, so yeah, if you wanna hang out for a while that’d be cool.”

Flynn filed away that bit of Intel for dissection later. Lori had been Miss Popularity back in high school; he’d been the recalcitrant nerd. Why had she turned into a hermit?

Glancing at the boy who found everything “cool,” he probably had his answer. “Thanks, champ.”

“Honey, I forgot my jacket. Do you mind getting it for me? Charlie should be cleaning so the classroom will be open.”

“No worries.”

Adam started to scamper off before remembering his manners. “Bye, Flynn. See ya round.”

“Sure thing.”

Something in Flynn’s hardened heart fluttered, unfurled, came alive as he watched the boy he’d helped create run toward the school building, scuffing his shoes in the process.

“Listen, Flynn, I — ”

“No. You listen to me.”

He lowered his voice with effort, clenching and unclenching his hands, before ramming them into his pockets.

He’d been raised in an emotionless home, taught to be a man far too early by a grandfather prone to terrible mood swings, a grandfather who blamed him for giving up a distinguished army career to raise his only daughter’s brat, so he had little clue how to deal with the solid lump wedged in his throat. A lump that swelled as he watched Adam duck into the school building, a lump that signaled an emotion he couldn’t recognize let alone acknowledge.

“What the hell were you
thinking
?”

Flynn dragged in a breath, another, shook his shoulders loose, rolled them, tried to ease the fierce tension gripping his body before he said something he’d regret.

He’d learned to master his emotions at a young age, had honed his impassivity through years of fighting the enemy, often a faceless, insidious, malignant enemy. But right now, rolling on the balls of his feet, trying to hold his fury in check while Lori scrambled for excuses and platitudes, his detached front splintered and threatened to expose how raw and emotionally bruised he was inside.

“Answer me, damn it.”

He didn’t need her reluctant nod to confirm what he’d known the instant he’d first laid eyes on the boy. Confusion jagged through him. He should be happy he had a son, proud, but all he could think about was he didn’t have a clue how to be a father let alone have room in his hardened heart for a child.

“He’s mine.”

A statement, not a question, and unable to contain his frustration any longer he thumped the top of the car, cursing as she jumped and took a few steps back.

Hating the uncontrollable rage sweeping through him he braced against the car, hung his head, closed his eyes and focused, a technique he’d used countless times over the years when faced with the unthinkable.

With every breath he deliberately blanked his mind, clenched and relaxed his rigid muscles, willed the anger away before it consumed him.

He had no idea how long he stood there, regaining control, and thankfully she didn’t speak, giving him time to pull together before he straightened, finally able to see through the haze fogging his brain.

“Why you didn’t tell me?”

Was what they’d shared so meaningless? So trivial?

He’d never forgotten her or the night they’d finally acknowledged the undeniable spark between them. She’d walked away and he’d let her, focusing on his career, on settling old scores.

Maybe he should be thanking her for not involving him in an emotional entanglement that would’ve screwed up his career before it had begun?

Then why the pain clamped around his heart, squeezing it like a vice at the thought he’d missed out on watching his boy grow up?

“Because the timing was all wrong.”

“Bullshit.”

Her expression wavered between pity and regret and fear, and he hated he made her look that way.

“We can’t talk about this now.”

She darted a quick glance toward the school building as he belatedly realized this wasn’t about the two of them and how they’d botched things, there was an innocent third party involved.

His son.

Damn, he had a son.

“When?”

“Soon.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough. I let you take the easy way out once. Not going to happen again.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip, eliciting a visceral reaction he had no hope of controlling, the familiar slap of desire something he’d learned to subdue around this woman as a teenager.

“I’ve been interstate on a professional development course the last few days. This is my first night home. I need to spend it with Adam.”

He heard her unspoken plea: she needed time with her son.

Fine, but so did he. Five years worth to make up for all he’d missed. Thanks to her.

“Dinner. Tomorrow night. No excuses.”

Her lower lip wobbled as she took a step toward him and for one crazy moment he thought she might collapse into his arms, she looked that fragile. Instead, she reached out a trembling hand, briefly touched his chest before letting it drop.

“Okay,” she said, with a reluctant nod.

She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze firmly fixed on his t-shirt and he tipped her chin up, the gold flecks in her eyes sparking familiar amber fire as he scrutinized her, looking for answers, searching for an explanation that would ease the bitterness gripping him.

He didn’t want to hate her, didn’t want to blame her, but as he caught sight of his son running toward them, he came close to both.

Lori couldn’t move, the shock of the last ten minutes finally seeping through her body, rendering her powerless to do anything but stand and take whatever Flynn dished out.

She deserved it, all of it, for the moment he’d laid eyes on Adam and learned the truth every logical, sane reason she’d used to justify her silence blew sky-high.

Pain, raw and undiluted, had ripped across his features, twisting his stoic mask into one of devastation.

And she was responsible.

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop from blubbering she scrambled in her handbag for a pen and paper and scribbled down her details.

“You can reach me on any of those numbers.”

He took the piece of paper, glanced at it. “You still live on Riversdale Drive?”

She nodded. “But not at Dad’s place. He bought the cottage up the road for us after I … ”

“Got knocked up? By me?”

He spat the final word and she’d bet a brave, honorable guy like him wished he’d been the one to buy them a place.

But that’s exactly why she hadn’t told him, had known he’d want to do the “right” thing and there wasn’t a chance she’d let him sacrifice his dream out of obligation.

For that’s what it would’ve been. If he hadn’t wanted to stick around just for her, there wasn’t a hope in Hades she would’ve used her unborn child as a means to make him choose between the life she wanted and the life he’d planned.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

She laid a comforting hand on his forearm, snatching it away as he glanced at it in disgust, like nothing would make up for what she’d done

Not that she had any intention of making up for anything. She had her reasons for not telling him about Adam, letting him follow his dream just one of them.

Now that he knew about Adam she’d deal with it, just like she’d had to deal with being shoved from town to town as a child, living transiently at a military base before moving on way too soon, the early death of her mother, the regimented upbringing by a father who cared more if her shoes were polished than about giving his only child a hug, his death shortly after Adam’s birth a guilty relief.

“Here’s your jacket, Mom.”

Adam skidded to a stop in front of her, his guileless expression endearingly familiar and it took all her willpower not to bundle him into her arms, hold on tight and never let go, to shelter him from whatever decisions his parents made that would impact his future.

“Do we have time for a milkshake on the way home? You wanna come, Flynn?”

She smiled her thanks at Adam while slinging a protective arm across his shoulders and squeezing. The last thing she needed was Flynn joining them for anything. She needed time; time to process everything, time to deal with his reappearance in her life.

Adam swiveled his head between them and as Flynn’s expression instantly softened, she had her answer as to whether he’d want any involvement with their son.

“Sorry, mate. I’ve got an appointment. Maybe some other time?”

Flynn ruffled Adam’s hair and she waited for her son to bristle. He hated people doing that, believing it was an action reserved for younger kids.

To her amazement, Adam smiled. “Cool.”

He turned to her and she quickly masked her surprise. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

She dropped a kiss on the top of his tousled head, prepared for the wrinkled nose, the roll of the eyes. Her baby was growing up way too fast and she’d hate the day when he deemed himself too old for his mom’s kisses.

“Hop in the car and we’ll get going.”

“Okay. See ya, Flynn.”

Adam waved as he ducked into the car, clambered into the car seat and belted in. She loved his independence, beyond proud.

They were a good family unit, a solid partnership and she hoped to God the man in front of her wasn’t about to change all that.

“You’ve done a great job raising our son,” Flynn murmured, the unexpected tenderness in his voice bringing a lump to her throat.

“Thanks.”

Our son.

Those two tiny words affected her almost as much as the emotion in his voice and she hugged her middle, desperate for her arms to hold onto something other than him.

Time stopped as they stared at each other, lost in a moment laden with sentiment and if the two short blasts of the car’s horn hadn’t disrupted them, she didn’t know what she might’ve foolishly done. If he’d flinched at a touch on the forearm, she’d hazard a guess his reaction to a hug wouldn’t be welcoming.

“I better go,” she said, reaching for the car door.

“I want answers and I’ll get them, Lori, that’s a promise.”

His tone sent a shiver of foreboding creeping across her skin, raising her hackles.

Adam’s home life was stable and she wanted to keep it that way. What answers could she possible give to erase the audible bitterness clouding Flynn’s growled warning?

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Her subtle head jerk toward the car, where Adam was peering curiously out the window, had its desired affect when he nodded and stepped away.

“Best we leave it ’til then. I’m too damn angry to even look at you right now.”

He ran a hand across the back of his neck, absentmindedly rubbing the corded muscles that stood out like a beacon to his fury.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to get to the bottom of this so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Her heart dropped into free-fall as he strode away, his threat ringing ominously in her ears.

As Flynn pulled into Riversdale Drive, a host of memories assailed him, none of them pleasant.

He remembered the first time he’d come here, buoyed by the prospect of seeing where Lori lived. His mates had scoffed at their burgeoning friendship, saying Lori was dabbling in the forbidden, playing with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks.

He hadn’t cared for there was nothing false or contrived about Lori and their shared feelings. Though they’d both been young, they’d shared a bond that far surpassed their years and he’d assumed they’d spend the rest of their lives together.