Their Secret Child

For eight years, journalist and single mother Sofia McCray kept her son a secret from his maverick father. But when she returns to her small Montana hometown, her high school sweetheart isn’t the rebellious teen she left behind. Ben Blake is a widowed cop who’s been through heartbreak, and he wants their child in his life. When her next assignment throws Sofia together with the handsome police officer in his squad car, she discovers just how much he truly cares about his community, their son…and her. Now Sofia must learn to trust her own heart to reunite a family that’s meant to be together.

“I’m willing to have you get to know our son,” Sofia said.

“But I don’t want to include anyone else in that right now,” she continued. “Meeting his dad is big enough without complicating that. And that includes your family.”

“So your whole family kept the secret?” he asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

They had, and saying it out loud made it sound worse somehow. They’d all agreed that keeping the secret would be best for the child.

“Ben, I’ve been the center of Jack’s world for his entire life,” she said, her voice quivering with emotion. “This isn’t about our families. Not yet, at least.”

“Agreed,” he said. “This should be about you and me.”

Just about the two of them…well, the three of them now.

“We tried that once,” she said past a lump in her throat. “It didn’t work too well.”

“Yeah.” His voice was low and deep, and she suddenly wished she could lean into his strong shoulder, smell that old scent of leather and cologne and feel loved again. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. And for the next two weeks, she thought.

PATRICIA JOHNS writes from northern Alberta where she lives with her husband and son. The winters are long, cold and perfectly suited to novel-writing. She has her BA in English lit, and you can find her books in Harlequin’s Love Inspired and American Romance lines.

The Lawman’s

Surprise Family

Patricia Johns

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A person may think their own ways are right,

but the Lord weighs the heart.

—Proverbs 21:2

I’d like to dedicate this novel to my father, a surprising fount of romance novel ideas. Whenever I get stuck in a plot, he can see the way out. Thank you, Dad!

And, of course, I’d like to dedicate this book to my husband, who inspires the romantic in me.

I could never do what I do without the love of these two sweet, supportive men.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The chances of avoiding Benjamin Blake in a town this size weren’t in her favor, but it didn’t stop Sofia McCray from hoping. If she could just get through today, she might be able to escape him until she was ready.

As she knocked on the police chief’s office door, Sofia could make out the muffled voices of two men inside. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal a man with blond hair that was gray around the temples, an easy smile and a wedding ring. The Chief of Police badge shone on his blue uniform. He shook her hand and gestured her in.

“Good morning,” Chief Taylor said. “Miss McCray, I presume?”

“Yes, from the Haggerston Chronicle,” Sofia replied with a quick smile, mentally preparing herself for her assignment. She’d only started at the Chronicle a couple of weeks ago after returning to Haggerston, and this assignment meant that her editor was taking her seriously—for now. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Let me introduce you to the officer you’ll be riding along with.” He gestured to the chair in front of the large desk.

A tall officer, dark and rugged, sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His dark hair was cropped short, his blue uniform setting off his obsidian eyes. He cocked his head to one side as her gaze lit on him, and a small smile turned up one corner of his mouth. Her heart thumped hard and then seemed to stop in her chest. He needed no introduction—this was Benjamin Blake.

“You’re late,” Ben said, glancing at his watch. “Eight oh five.”

She’d heard that he’d become a cop, but she’d had a hard time imagining her high school “bad boy” boyfriend in law enforcement. Looking at him in full uniform, his dark eyes fixed on her almost teasingly, she found herself tongue-tied.

She had some explaining to do, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Officer Blake says that he knows you already,” Chief Taylor said. “So that should make working together for the next two weeks easier. We appreciate you being here, Miss McCray. Our new community watch program could use the publicity.”

She finally found her voice. “Yes, absolutely.”

“I just need you to sign a few papers.” Chief Taylor passed her a clipboard with forms attached. Sofia took it numbly.

“Couple of days, I thought,” Ben said to the police chief, and she glanced up from the papers.

“Or so...” the chief replied noncommittally. She didn’t miss the tension that rippled along Ben’s jawline and realized he wasn’t looking forward to this, either.

She scratched her signature across the bottom line, and when the police chief flipped to the next page, she did the same once more. Sofia attempted to keep her expression neutral, her eyes moving over the forms without absorbing any of the information.

“In case you get shot,” Ben offered helpfully, nodding at the forms. Humor flickered at the corners of his lips, and for a split second, she saw the teenager in him again. His gaze held hers for longer than necessary, and her breath caught in her throat. She forced her eyes back down to the page, heat rising in her cheeks.

“Just accepting that a ride-along has risks,” the chief said cheerfully. “And that you won’t sue us if anything should happen.” He took the clipboard from her and turned away. “Officer Blake is one of the leading officers in this program. We’re focusing on domestic violence, child endangerment and driving under the influence. We have bigger problems here in Haggerston than most people realize.”

“Yes, I was briefed on that,” she said. “I’m glad to be a part of getting the word out.”

“Do you have any questions before you leave?” Chief Taylor asked.

“Not at the moment,” she admitted. She was still too distracted by Ben’s unexpected presence to think of much else.

“Well, I’m sure Officer Blake can fill you in when questions arise,” he said with a smile as he turned away. “Have a good day, you two.”

Ben pushed himself up from the chair where he’d been reclining and gestured for her to leave the office ahead of him. The door closed behind them, the din of the bull pen enveloping her. Sofia looked up at Ben, noting the subtle way his face had changed over the years. He had lines around his eyes now. His jaw was clean shaven—a change from the constant five o’clock shadow he used to sport. He still had those piercing dark eyes with long lashes, but he’d lost that familiar scent of leather jacket and cheap cologne. He was a man now, his teen years left solidly behind him. He seemed to sense her scrutiny, because he glanced down at her.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, his tone low enough for her ears alone as they made their way around the desks and toward the front door.

“Yes. Nine years.” Nine years was a long time to carry a secret. She’d come back to Haggerston knowing that she’d have to reveal it sooner or later, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Something like that.” He nodded at another officer, and she felt the warmth of his hand touch the small of her back as he guided her past some desks. “How long have you been back in town?”

“Two weeks.” They emerged past the front desk and pushed open the front door, stepping out into the cool spring air.

“So, what brought you back after all this time?” Ben asked.

She wished she had a flippant reply for that question, but she didn’t. She felt her smile fade.

“My dad has cancer,” she said, her voice low. “I’m here to help him through his treatment.”

That was an understatement. She was also here to try and rebuild a relationship with her father after all these years. When her parents split up that summer that she graduated, she’d done what all the counselors advised against—she’d chosen sides. Now that her father was facing cancer, she knew that she had a lot to make up for to him, as well. He’d met his grandson for the first time two weeks ago, and she truly wished she hadn’t left it so long. This homecoming wasn’t a victorious one by any stretch.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” He reached toward her, but just before touching her arm, he pulled back.

“It’s okay. We aren’t really advertising it. Dad doesn’t want anyone to treat him like he’s sick.” She touched the tingling place on her arm where he’d nearly touched her.

Ben nodded slowly. “I get that.”

This was not going to be easy working with Ben. She’d thought she’d put all those butterflies behind her. She was a grown woman with responsibilities, for crying out loud, and she was smarter this time. Wiser. Older. Why couldn’t that be enough? She stopped and turned around to face him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“What, us working together?” he asked.

“Exactly. We have a bit of a history—”

“I tried getting out of it,” he interrupted. “It was no use.”

“Oh.” He’d tried getting out of it? Somehow, she thought she’d be the one with more reservations, but perhaps she was wrong about that. Benji had been her first love—the bad boy with the motorcycle who swept her off her feet, much to her parents’ chagrin. And she’d loved him passionately until he dumped her and she left town with her mother—pregnant. She’d never told him about her pregnancy or her plans to leave, and while the guilt of that laid heavily on her shoulders, she’d honestly thought she was doing him a favor.

“I know this is complicated...” she began.

“Yeah, a bit.”

He angled his steps toward the parking lot, and she had to quicken her pace to keep up. Was he actually annoyed with her? It hardly seemed as though he had any right. She’d been the one unceremoniously dumped on the night of her prom. They’d been just about to go inside when she’d asked him the question that had been plaguing her for weeks: How would they stay together when she went off to college? It was a reasonable question, considering that Benji hadn’t finished all the classes he needed to graduate that year, so he’d be staying behind. Somehow, that had turned into an argument that ended with Benji telling her that they’d never last anyway, and he’d driven off on his motorcycle, leaving her in the parking lot with a corsage and a broken heart.

“It looks like things have turned out well for you,” she said, giving him an uncertain smile. “You look good.”

It seemed like the polite thing to say, although what the social etiquette was in a situation like this, she had no idea.

“So do you,” he said, ambling toward the row of squad cars. “Mind if I ask you something, now that I’ve got the chance?”

“Not at all.” Again, that seemed to be the polite response, even though she wasn’t exactly keen to face his questions.

“So how come you just disappeared like that?” He glanced down at her, his gaze fixed on hers for a moment longer than necessary, then he nodded toward a cruiser. “This one is mine, by the way.”

Little did he know that the least of her sins was the disappearing act, but if she had to be honest, she’d disappeared because she was afraid to face reality. And he had no idea how much reality had been hanging in that balance.

“It was a complicated time,” she said hesitantly. “My parents had just told me that they were getting a divorce. They’d been fighting constantly for months. Then, when my mom said she was moving out, I—”

Her world had crumbled. She’d felt adrift—seventeen, alone, pregnant and without the stability of her parents’ marriage to buoy her up. She could still remember how she’d begged them to reconsider, to go for therapy, to do anything to keep them together. They hadn’t, obviously, and their breakup had decimated her.

“So, what happened, exactly?” Ben asked. “There were rumors about your parents and why your mom left.”

“What kinds of rumors?” she asked, irritation rising. Her father had stayed in Haggerston, and the town should have known what kind of husband and father he’d been—not exemplary.

Ben unlocked her door and she got in. A moment later, he got into the driver’s side and, without looking at her, said, “People said she met someone else.”

“She wasn’t cheating on my father,” Sofia said dryly. “She’d just had enough. Sometimes women reach their limit.”

“But you both left without saying goodbye to anyone,” he said, finally looking in her direction. “I found out when I came by your place, and your dad told me you were gone. You never did answer my emails.”

“We were broken up, if you recall,” she said defensively. “I didn’t just leave town without telling my boyfriend. I left without telling my ex-boyfriend. I was no longer your business.”

“Technically,” he replied evenly.

“What does that even mean?” she demanded. “We were seventeen. We were kids. Do you honestly think I owed you something after you broke my heart?”

She felt the hypocrisy of the words as they passed her lips. She’d left pregnant with his son—of course she owed him something! But he didn’t know that, and his argument right now was surrounding the fact that she’d left at all without telling him her plans. And while she knew that she had to tell Ben about his son—and her son about his father—she’d wanted to wait until the time was right, until she had full control of the situation. Now that she was working with Ben, she’d have to tell him sooner than she’d planned, and her stomach sank at the thought.

“Yeah, I think you did owe me something,” he said, and the heaviness in his tone made her wonder if perhaps he did know more than he was letting on. “We weren’t just a couple, we were—”

She waited, but he didn’t finish the sentence.

“We were each other’s first loves,” she concluded. “Even if that relationship was over—”

“I still loved you. That hadn’t ended for me.”

Sofia froze, his words tickling something deep inside of her. He met her gaze, held it, then put the key into the ignition and the cruiser rumbled to life. So if he’d still loved her, why dump her? Why leave her alone in the parking lot of the community center in a tulle gown? That didn’t sound like love to her; though something in his voice suggested that he still felt something for her, and she couldn’t help the heat that rose in her cheeks.

“Anyway,” he said, breaking the silence. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

Her cell phone rang, and Sofia glanced down to see her father’s number. It was a welcome interruption right then, and she picked it up before it could ring twice.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Hi, kiddo,” he said, using the same endearment he’d used as long as she could remember. “We, uh, have a situation over here.”

“What kind of situation?” she asked.

“Jack is sick.”

“Sick? How sick? Does he have a fever?”

“I don’t know. He’s throwing up, though, and it’s not stopping.”

She sighed. “Did you give him the gluten-free cereal for breakfast?”

“Of course.”

“With the almond milk, not the dairy?”

“Uh, yeah. I think.”

She closed her eyes. “What else did he have, Dad?”

“A cannoli.”

“A cannoli? You gave him a cannoli?” she demanded. “That’s full of everything he’s allergic to!”

“I thought he was like other kids. They’ve got the metabolism of rats.”

“Well, he’s not,” she replied, attempting to keep her anger in check. She’d explained all of this to her father in detail this morning. He’d said he understood. But this was like her father had always been, doing it his own way. What did he think, that she’d just been being dramatic when she explained all of this?

“What do I do?” He sounded contrite.

“I’m coming home,” she said, and without even saying goodbye, she punched the end button. Sofia glanced up to find Ben watching her, an odd expression on his face. When she looked over, he flicked his gaze back to the road ahead of him.

“You’re a mom?” he asked after a moment.

“I am. I have a son—Jack.”

“Everything okay over there?” he asked.

“Not really. Look, I know this is an inconvenience, but could we swing by my father’s house so I can check on my son? He has allergies, and my father—” She shook her head. “I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Sure.” He signaled a turn, and they headed back toward the main drag.

Sofia’s mind was on Jack right then, his poor little digestive system in knots because of his grandfather’s negligence. And because Jack didn’t seem to take his own allergies as seriously as he should, either, if she had to be completely fair.

She glanced at Ben. She’d have to tell him soon—she knew that. But not yet. She had this under control, and when Ben knew that he was a father, everything would change. Working together would be more tense than it already was, and she’d have no escape. She couldn’t afford to lose this precarious balance just yet.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

* * *

She has a son. That little fact seemed to hit Ben in the gut like a sucker punch. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before that she’d have children. In the time since high school, he’d gotten married and had a child, too.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

He’d married Lisa four years ago. They’d met in a coffee shop when her car wouldn’t start. He’d given her a jump from his cruiser and gotten her number. Six months later, they were married. Lisa had always wanted a baby, and they’d tried for two years before she finally got pregnant. It was supposed to be free sailing after that, and neither of them had expected the complications. Before she’d even had her first baby shower, Lisa was admitted to the hospital for high blood pressure. The baby was born via emergency C-section at six months, and his wife had died on the operating table. His baby girl died two days later in the NICU. At barely two pounds, she was too tiny to make it.

And Sofia had a son.

Was this jealousy he felt? Mandy was frozen at the newborn stage in his mind, but from time to time he wondered what little Mandy would be doing if she’d lived. Right now, she’d be a year and a half. She’d probably be toddling around and calling him Dada.

His daughter had been the reason why he wanted to clean up this town. When he’d found out his wife was pregnant, he’d gotten this sudden protectiveness at the very idea of this little person. He wanted Haggerston to be the kind of place a kid could grow up safe and happy. His own upbringing had been neither. When he’d lost his daughter, his drive hadn’t changed. There were other kids growing up here—kids growing up just as poor as he had—and he wanted to make a difference for them, too.

“So how old is your son?” he asked.

“Eight.”

He glanced over at her, frowning slightly. “Eight?”

She nodded. “Yes. He’s in the third grade this year. And he’s a smart kid. He started reading really early. And he loves jokes—they drive me nuts...”

“Jokes, huh?” he said absently.

She’d said the boy was eight. She’d been gone nine years... The mental math wasn’t rocket science. Had she met someone right after him? That was a possibility. Sofia, with her almond skin and smooth, dark waves—she wouldn’t have trouble finding someone else. He’d never tried to deceive himself in that area. He hadn’t seen her in nine years, had a rocky history with her and had good reason not to trust her again, and he still found himself feeling things he didn’t want to feel when looking at her. Imagine some poor guy who didn’t have his defenses up—he’d never have a chance.

“Kid jokes.” She shrugged. “He’s a regular little comedian. Like, what do you call a flying police officer?”

Ben looked over at her mutely.

“A heli-copper,” she concluded, giving him a wan smile.

Ben cracked a grin and shook his head. “Okay. Cute.”

They were coming up on her father’s street. It felt weird to be driving her back there, almost like the old days when he could feel her arms tightening around his middle as he took the turn around the corner. He could still remember the creak of his leather jacket as she held on tight, and the sound of her voice coming from behind, mingling with the growl of his motorcycle’s engine.

Except they weren’t seventeen now, and she was a mom. That changed a lot of things in his head, somehow. Time had passed, and there was no pretending otherwise.

“Thank you for this,” she said as he slowed to a stop in front of the familiar old house. Her cell phone rang again, and she picked up the call as she got out. “Dad? Look, I’m here. Is he still throwing up?”

Ben got out, too. She hadn’t exactly said that she wanted privacy for this, and he found himself more than a little curious about her son. What was she like as a mother? So far, he could see the matter-of-fact side of her coming out, all concerned with vomiting and allergies. He’d probably be the same way if things had turned out differently. Lisa would have been the same way, too, although she’d never had the chance to even see her daughter—

He pushed the unbidden thoughts back and picked up his pace. He caught up with her at the side door and stepped inside after her. It had been a while since he’d been in Steve McCray’s house. When Steve’s wife had left him, he’d been a wreck and spent way too much time in bars. Ben had personally escorted Mr. McCray home again several times, and he’d always been struck by how different the old house looked with the women gone. It had gone from a somewhat cluttered but homey little place to a dank and dismal hole seemingly overnight.

The side door led into the kitchen, and when he glanced around he could already see Sofia’s touch around the place. A vase of daisies—Sofia’s favorite flowers—sat on the counter next to a stack of library books that looked to be a mixture of kids’ books and murder mysteries. She’d always liked a good who-done-it. The kitchen table had an assortment of boxed foods, all of which had “gluten-free” written in big letters on them in some prominent place. The box of cannolis sat open beside the gluten-free fare, like the forbidden tree in the garden.

“Hi, Sofia—” Steve McCray stopped when he saw Ben. He nodded in Ben’s direction.

Ben nodded his hello in return.

“Where is he?” Sofia asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at her father. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Steve looked smart enough to take the warning.

“In the bathroom.”

Sofia marched out of the kitchen without a backward glance, and Ben met Steve’s gaze with a wan smile.

“So...” Steve said. “How’re things with you?”

“Not bad.” Ben shrugged. “Hanging in there.”

Steve regarded Ben in a tense silence, then gestured to the box on the table. “Cannoli?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Each man took a cannoli and bit into the sweet, creamy centers. They chewed silently, the sound of Sofia’s voice filtering through the walls while she talked with her son. She sounded gentle and sympathetic, although her words were too muffled to make out. A moment later, she came back into the room.

“He’s done vomiting now,” she said. “For the next couple of days he’ll be still feeling pretty sick, though.”

“Where is he?” Steve asked.

“Changing his shirt.” She sighed, then glared at them in exasperation. “Are you two eating cannolis?”

Ben licked his fingers and shot Steve a guilty look. He had a feeling the two of them were going to step wrong no matter what.

“Just getting them out of the way so Jack doesn’t need to even see them,” Steve replied, and Sofia looked as if it was taking effort to bite her tongue. Coming with her into the house had been an obvious mistake.

“So are you taking the day off, then?” Ben asked her, edging toward the door. “This looks like family business...”

Sofia regarded Ben for a moment, then turned to her father.

“Dad, are you okay to look after him while I’m at work?” she asked. “He won’t be much trouble feeling as badly as he does.”

“Sure. We’ll hang out,” Steve replied. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known what would happen—”

“I told you about his allergies!” she retorted, then sucked in a breath. “Okay, apology accepted. Just follow my instructions for his food from now on.”

“Scout’s honor.” Steve shot her a grin, and before Sofia could react, a boy came padding into the kitchen.

“Mom?” He had a mop of dark hair and big brown eyes that looked an awful lot like his mother’s. He looked pretty tall for eight, but what did Ben know about these things? The boy paused when he saw Ben. “Hi,” he said shyly.

“Hi,” Ben said.

“Jack, this is one of my old friends, Ben,” she said. “I’ll be working with him for a little while.”

“Oh.” Jack’s lips were on the pale side. He obviously wasn’t feeling great. “Do I have to go to school today?”

“No, you can stay home,” she said. “I’ll call the school and tell them you’re sick.”

“Okay.” Jack paused again. “I’ve got a new joke.”

Sofia smiled and glanced toward Ben. “I told you he loves jokes, right? Okay, Jack. Let’s hear it.”

“What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?” Jack asked, his gaze flickering toward Ben momentarily.

“Pretty much all of it, with your allergies,” Sofia shot back.

“Nope. It’s nacho cheese.”

Ben laughed in spite of himself and shook his head. The kid was funny.

“So, can I watch TV?” Jack asked, turning his attention to his mother.

A smile twitched Sofia’s lips, and he caught the humor that passed between mother and son. Jack was obviously pushing for something here.

“Only because you’re sick and I feel sorry for Grandpa a little bit. As soon as you’re better, the regular TV deal stands.”

“Okay.” Jack smiled. He still looked rather pale.

“Come here.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, sweetie. I’m going back to work now. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Jack hugged her back. “Okay. Bye.” When she released him, he headed into the living room, and the TV turned on.

“Feeling a little tired, myself,” Steve said, glancing between Sofia and Ben. “I’ll see you later.”

Steve headed in the direction his grandson had gone, and on his way out, Ben noted that the older man looked thinner than he remembered. It was a small relief to be left alone with Sofia in the kitchen.

“You’re all strict about TV watching, huh?” Ben said with a small smile.

“Afraid so.” She caught his eye and shrugged. “I’m a far cry from the girl on the back of your motorbike, you know.”

“I know.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m a far cry from being the guy on the bike, too.”

“Let me call the school, then we can get going.” She sighed and shook her head. “Might as well get to work.”

A couple of minutes later, they were both in the car, and Ben’s mind was whirling. There was something about Jack...something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looked like a good kid, and he looked an awful lot like his mother, but the timing was still nagging at him. Was it rude to ask if there was a chance that he was Jack’s father? She would have told him if he’d gotten her pregnant, wouldn’t she?

“Should I even ask this?” he asked, glancing at her uncertainly.

“Probably not,” she joked.

“I’m being serious.” He put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. “He’s eight. You left nine years ago. The timing is...” He trailed off, not finishing.

This was her cue to tell him that no, he was not Jack’s father. This was the place where she was supposed to tell him the story of the guy who came after him. This was the place where he would laugh it off and say something like, “Just making sure!” The silence stretched out, and he glanced toward her uncertainly.

“Sofia?”

She sighed. “I meant to tell you in a better way.”

Ben blinked, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. This wasn’t the reply he actually expected.

“You want to make that a little clearer?” he asked.

“I—” Sofia sucked in a breath. “I wanted to tell you in a different way, but, yes, you’re Jack’s dad.”

Silence fell between them, and the rumble of the motor seemed to grow louder by the second. Ben glanced at her a couple of times, then finally broke the silence.

“So—” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Wait, so he is mine?”

He pulled a hand through his hair, trying to sort out exactly what he felt, but there was nothing there right now but shock.

“Yes, Benji,” she said after a moment. “Jack is most certainly yours.”

Chapter Two

Ben rubbed a hand over his forehead, Sofia’s words sinking in. Jack...was his? He was a dad again? Not really again, exactly. More like he’d been one all along and never been let in on that little detail. This felt more like a bad dream—things coming at him faster than he could entirely make sense of them.

When she used his old nickname—Benji—it reminded him of all those feelings they used to share, and something inside of him suddenly rebelled, and he felt a flood of anger.

It was a feeling, at least. Something besides shock, but the uppermost thought in his mind was, This isn’t fair to Lisa and Mandy. It felt like betraying them after the fact, and it stabbed hard.

“Ben,” he said gruffly.

“Pardon me?” Her voice sounded weak, and when he glanced in her direction, he found her wan and pale, big dark eyes fixed on him uncertainly.

“I don’t go by Benji anymore. I’m Ben.”

It was a small complaint in the grand scheme of things, but hearing his old nickname grated at him something fierce. She’d always called him Benji, and he used to love it, but when he’d met his wife and she’d also tried to call him Benji, he’d put a stop to it. Lisa had deserved something unique—something that hadn’t been done before. Lisa had deserved to be the first for something. He’d always felt slightly guilty for not being able to completely forget about Sofia, and now that Lisa had passed away, the guilt was compounded. He hadn’t given his wife the wholehearted devotion that she deserved.

That wasn’t the point here, though, and he brought his mind back to the petite brunette beside him. Sofia sat in silence, seemingly willing to let him digest what she’d just told him.

“So how?” he asked, turning into a parking lot and choosing a spot as far from the other cars as possible. He slammed the car into Park. There was no way he could have this conversation while driving. “I don’t get it. You were pregnant when you left? Did you know?”

“I knew.” She nodded, and two pink circles materialized on her cheeks. “I was only a few weeks along, and we’d just broken up.”

“It isn’t like we hadn’t broken up and gotten back together before,” he said.

“I didn’t want to get back together. The baby made everything different.”

“Different.” He heard the bitterness in his own voice. He wasn’t sure why he was spoiling for a fight right now, but he was angry—deeply angry. This was a big load to dump on a guy, and why on earth had she waited so long to tell him?

“I should have told you sooner, I know,” she said, as if reading his mind. “At first, I admit that I wasn’t going to tell you anything, but deep down I knew that was wrong. And the older Jack got, the more curious he got. Other kids had dads, and I knew I had to tell you that he existed, but when I got as far as picking up the phone, I didn’t have the words.”

“How about, ‘You’ve got a son’?” he suggested, his tone sarcastic. “That might have been a good start.”

“I didn’t even know if you’d care!”

“If I’d care?” he shot back, the insult slipping deep beneath his defenses. “Of course, I’d care!”

She actually wondered if he’d care that he’d fathered a child? Was that how low her opinion was of him? Did she think that he wouldn’t have cared about her in all of this, either? He’d never have left her to have a baby on her own... He’d have found some way to take care of her.

“You care now!” Her eyes snapped in anger. “You weren’t like this before! You were...” She shook her head irritably. “You were the guy with the leather jacket and the motorcycle. You hated authority. You were seventeen, you just about got expelled from school, and you were—”

“The father,” he interrupted. “I was the father. I deserved to know.”

He had changed. He had to admit that, if only to himself. He’d changed when he found God, and then he’d changed even further when he found Lisa. Lisa had tamed him in a whole different way, introducing him to matching linens and Sunday brunches.

“What would you have done?” she asked. “You weren’t old enough to be a dad.”

“You weren’t old enough to be a mom.” He turned his attention out the window for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around all of this. The facts seemed to float on the surface of his mind without actually penetrating deeply enough to feel real.

“I’ll give you that.” Her tone softened. “It wasn’t easy.”

“So why?” he pressed. “Why not tell me later? Why not call me after he was born?”

“I was trying to protect him.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural answer in the world.

“From me?” he asked, incredulously. Her silence seemed to confirm it, and he shook his head. “What did you think I was going to do? Did you really think I was that much of a jerk?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be in his life,” she said.

“So you didn’t bother giving me the chance?”

“You weren’t exactly father material!”

There it was. The truth stung. He’d been a messed-up kid, looking for trouble. He’d flouted authority, put all of his money into his motorbike and taken great pride in doing things his own way. But he’d been a teenager, so it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t been acting like an adult yet.

“I’ve grown up,” he said quietly. “Was I really so bad?”

“There was a lot going on at the time,” she admitted, and she pulled her dark hair away from her face. “My mom used to warn me about rebel boyfriends. My dad had been hers—did you know that? You were just like him—making your own rules, the rebel without a cause. But that doesn’t translate well into parenthood. It’s hard having a father like mine.”

Ben remembered Sofia’s strained relationship with her father. He’d often wondered if she’d jumped onto the back of his bike so readily just to see if her dad would try to stop her. Her father never had—not in the obvious ways, at least. Ben had never had a father in his life, either, so he’d never been one to judge someone else’s daddy issues—something his own son would probably have plenty of, too.

“I know this is a lot to dump on you at once.” Sofia broke the silence. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry. I was afraid. You have to understand it from my perspective. I was having a baby, and I loved that baby more than anything else in the world, even when he was too tiny for me to even show—”

Did she think she had the monopoly on love? It wasn’t all that different for fathers.

“I know exactly what that’s like,” he said.

“You do?” Sofia stopped, swallowed. “You have children?”

He hadn’t meant to bring Lisa and Mandy up, and he heaved a sigh. Here Sofia was in the flesh, a reminder of how he’d failed his wife, bringing the news that they’d made a baby together back before he’d become a Christian—long before he’d met Lisa. And to make matters even worse, when he looked at Sofia McCray, he still saw that gorgeous girl who used to make his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t about to tell her about the family he lost—not yet.

“Never mind. We have work to do,” he replied gruffly. He restarted the car.

She was silent, and he was relieved when he saw a pickup truck whipping through a four-way stop and weaving from one lane to the other. He sent up a silent, and ironic, prayer of thanks for the distraction. He knew who this was—it was Mike Layton, a local journalist he’d already arrested three times for domestic violence.

“Hold on,” he said, slapping on the siren and stepping on the gas. The cruiser roared forward, and Sofia was pushed back into her seat, her eyes widening in surprise.

Making sense of past pain was hard. Pulling over an intoxicated driver—that was his comfort zone. He’d enjoy this one a little bit, and if Mike had been drinking, there was no way he was letting him get home before a nice, lengthy detox. Mavis Layton’s safety relied upon that.

* * *

The car lurched, and Sofia sucked in a breath of surprise, her stomach hovering in her middle as the car catapulted them forward. Ben’s expression was steely, and he moved with precision, his hands sliding over the steering wheel with the fluidity of practice. This was a side to him she’d never seen before—the cop at work—and she found that she wasn’t afraid with him behind the wheel. Nauseated from being whipped around, perhaps, but not afraid.

That had always been the allure of Benji Blake—his complete confidence in his own abilities. She remembered how her mother used to lecture her about riding on the back of his bike, but she’d never felt at risk while he was driving. There was something about the feel of his leather jacket in her grip, her helmet resting against his back as they sped along the familiar old roads. He’d gone too fast, and he’d kept her out too late, but he’d never made her feel unsafe. Not once. Except it was no motorcycle now, it was a police cruiser, but the feeling was uncomfortably similar.

The blue pickup truck ahead of them wove to the other side of the road, then slowed to a stop at the curb. She strained to get a better look.

“Is he drunk?” Sofia asked.

“That’s my guess,” Ben said, punching the plate number into the computer on his dash. “You can come out with me, but stand back.”

He put a hand on the butt of his gun and reached for the door handle.

“Don’t you need to wait to figure out who he is?” she asked, jutting her chin in the direction of the computer on the dash. A smile flickered at his lips.

“I know who he is. That’s Mike Layton—one of the writers at your paper.”

“That’s Mike?” She shaded her eyes against the morning sunlight. Mike didn’t seem like the type to have a drinking problem, not that she knew him very well, only having been at the job for a week. Landing this assignment was due to her experience in this kind of research with the last paper she’d worked for in California. She should be grateful for this assignment, but right now she found herself wishing that she’d been a little less ambitious when she arrived.

Ben got out of the car and headed toward the driver’s side of the truck. Sofia unbuckled her seat belt and got out, edging closer so that she could hear their words, but still attempting to stay out of Mike’s immediate line of sight. It would be awkward if her coworker knew that she saw him at his worst.

Ben pulled open the truck’s door and stepped back.

“Step outside, Mike,” Ben said, gesturing toward the side of the road. “Drinking this morning?”

“No,” Mike retorted. “This is ridiculous. Don’t you have better things to do than to harass me?”

“Step outside the vehicle.” Ben’s tone turned stony, and Mike reluctantly got out and muttered something under his breath.

“Hey, get your hands off me!” Mike snapped as Ben easily flipped Mike around so that his stomach was against the truck, and pulled out some cuffs from his belt. Ben was muscular and solid, the smaller man giving no contest.

“Hey, seriously!” Mike said loudly. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Speeding, failure to stop at a stop sign, erratic control of the motor vehicle...” Ben seemed to be enjoying this, and he slapped the cuffs down on Mike’s wrists a little harder than necessary. Mike winced as the metal tightened down with a series of clicks. “And some general disrespect to an officer of the law. Sit tight.” Ben led Mike around the side of the truck. “We’ll do a Breathalyzer.”

“Are handcuffs really necessary?” the smaller man asked huffily, then his gaze fell on Sofia. Color suffused his face, and he looked away. Sofia pitied Mike in that moment, and anger rose up inside of her. Was Ben trying to prove something, or was he just taking out his anger about the revelations that morning? And how exactly was this kind of heavy-handed policing supposed to create the kind of environment where a community watch program was even effective?

Ben ambled past Mike and headed for the cruiser once more. He paused at Sofia’s side, putting a gentle hand on her arm as he nudged her over so he could reach into the car.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, his voice low enough for her ears only. He grabbed the Breathalyzer packet and eased back out of the car again. “So, for your article, I should tell you that I’ve apprehended a suspected drunk driver. He was acting belligerently toward an officer and was subdued at the side of the road. I’m about to administer a Breathalyzer test to ascertain the extent of his sobriety.”

His police jargon was over the top, and she glanced back at Mike, who wriggled uncomfortably in the cuffs.

“Is this about you and me?” she asked pointedly.

“Nope.”

“So this is you being professional?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Sure is.” He gave her a slow smile. “What’s the problem?”

“Aren’t you being a little rough with him?” she asked.

Obviously Ben didn’t like Mike, but that was no excuse to abuse his position of authority—and that was exactly what this looked like. He also seemed a little too eager with those cuffs. Was this what happened when rebels chose the law as their cause—common bullying?

“Too rough? No, I don’t think so,” Ben replied, and ambled in Mike’s direction without looking back.

“I’m not drunk,” she heard Mike say. “I’m in a hurry. For crying out loud, Ben.”

Ben didn’t hurry his movements, and after a moment of fiddling, held the plastic straw from the Breathalyzer machine in front of Mike.

“Blow here.”

Mike complied, and there was a moment while Ben looked down at the results. He glanced back at Sofia, disappointment in his expression.

“Not drunk, after all,” Ben said with a sigh.

“Get me out of these cuffs!” Mike snapped. “I’m on the way to the hospital. My wife broke her wrist, and they asked me to meet her there.”

Ben hooked a thumb over his belt and eyed Mike thoughtfully for a moment, then he glanced back in Sofia’s direction.

“Uncuff him,” she said, shaking her head. She knew she didn’t really have a say in this, but she was angry nonetheless. Nothing infuriated her more than men with power who abused their positions—regardless of their reason.

Ben shrugged and pulled out the key to unlock the cuffs. Mike rubbed his wrists and glared in Ben’s direction.

“You’re an idiot, Ben!” Mike said.

“That’s Officer Blake, to you,” Ben said icily. “And I sincerely hope you were miles away when your wife got hurt.”

Ben took a step forward, and Mike’s attitude evaporated. He held up his hands.

“I was,” Mike said. “Just let me go see if she’s okay.”

Obviously there was a history between these two, evident by their mutual dislike, but Ben had the upper hand here. He was in the position of authority, and he was leaning on it. He didn’t seem any different from the Benji Blake she’d fallen in love with all those years ago—ever the rebel.

“Drive to the hospital slowly,” Ben said, his voice low. “I’m watching you.”

After they’d both gotten back into the car, Ben looked over at Sofia, then frowned when he noticed her expression.

“What?” he said.

“What was that?” she demanded. “I get that Mike is a bit of a jerk, but that doesn’t mean you can push him around like that. There are laws against that sort of thing!”

“I have my reasons,” Ben replied, starting the car again. He pulled out behind Mike’s truck, following him down the road in the direction of the hospital.

“Care to share them?” she retorted. “Because that looked like a flagrant abuse of power. I’m frankly rather surprised that you’d do that to a journalist, especially with another journalist present to corroborate the story.”

“Can’t say too much legally,” he replied. “And I can’t take the chance of it going into one of your articles.” He gestured in the direction of her tablet.

She sighed and turned the tablet upside down. If he had a reason, she’d like to hear it. “All right, you have my word that it’s off the record.”

Ben shrugged. “Let’s just say Mike had it coming.”

“So a personal vendetta?” she clarified.

He eyed her for a moment, then put his attention back on to the road. “You don’t think too much of me, do you? No. I’ve personally arrested Mike Layton three times for beating up his wife.”

Sofia froze. She hadn’t seen that coming. Mike didn’t seem like the type—loud, obnoxious and opinionated, yes, but violent? There was a picture of Mike’s wife on his desk at the office, a slender woman with gentle eyes...

“And you thought—” she started.

“I thought that he was drunk,” he replied with a shrug. “If I can stick him in the drunk tank instead of sending him home to Mavis, then I think that’s a job well done. I really hope he was as far away from Mavis as possible when she broke her wrist, but I have to say, I have my doubts about that. Why she stays with him, I’ll never know.”

Sofia sighed and nodded. “I didn’t know that about Mike.”

She understood Ben’s anger and his desire to make Mike uncomfortable, even for a little while, but that didn’t cover everything for her.

“You’re still playing by your own rules,” she said. “You were like this when we were together—always doing everything your own way. Even if it would only hurt you in the end, you had to have it your way.”

Ben glanced at her, then signaled a turn, still following Mike, as promised. “My way is effective.” A twinkle of humor came into his eyes, and she shook her head.

“You cuffed a man without cause. That isn’t even legal.”

“I had cause,” he retorted. “Just not...immediate. You’re thinking of poor, mistreated Mike. What about Mavis? Mavis knows that all she has to do is mention my name, and her husband backs off. That’s something positive, I’d say. And giving women a safe place to go and a number to call when their husbands get abusive is part of what we’re trying to do with this community watch project. It’s about the community looking out for each other and cops being called right away, not when it’s too late. If the women don’t trust us, all the programs in the world aren’t going to make any difference.”

She had to agree with the results, but she wasn’t convinced of his methods.

“You’ve always done things your own way,” she said after a moment. “And while I get it this time, it’ll catch up with you eventually.”

“You think I’m some kind of rogue cop, dealing out my own version of justice?” he asked, humor edging his tone.

“Yes.” She had to admit that was exactly what she thought. He was the same old Benji Blake, except this version had a badge and a gun. As a teen, she’d found it exciting and alluring, but not now as an adult, and certainly not as a mother.

They were nearing the hospital, and Ben gave his siren one whoop of farewell, then eased past Mike’s truck and kept on their way.

“Sofia, you don’t have to worry about me,” Ben said quietly. “I’m a decent guy.”

She was silent, considering. Was he a decent guy, or was he just an older version of the same rebel he’d always been? If it weren’t for her son in the mix, she wouldn’t have cared so much, but Ben’s character would have a huge impact on Jack. Jack would idealize Ben. He’d look up to him. He’d emulate him, and the last thing she needed was a son who turned out exactly like his father.

“Just keep in mind that I’m a journalist first,” she said with a sigh. “I’m here to write articles that can help improve the public’s perception about the police force, but I’m not going to lie, either. Don’t put me in the position of having to write up a story that sets back your entire project.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. “I’ll have you know that I care about this—more than you probably realize. You lived on the good side of the tracks, but I saw a different side to this town growing up. I’m going to fix that, whatever it takes. So you might have your ideals right now, but I’ve got more than ideals. I’ve got a plan, and I’m not afraid to put it into action.”

Sofia didn’t answer. Ben might be a cop, but she was a journalist, and she had a responsibility to her job as well as to this town. The laws were there for a reason, and she found it ironic that she was now pushing against Benji from the other side of the law. But Ben was like that—rock solid, completely immoveable and always perched right on the line. Some things would never change.

Chapter Three

That evening, after dropping Sofia off at her father’s house, Ben drove back to the other side of town where his mother lived. His mind was still chewing over the fact that he was a father, and he didn’t know exactly how to process it all. He’d made plans to have dinner with his mother several days ago, and he didn’t have the heart to break them. Besides, his mom deserved to know about this. A grandson would impact her life, too.

The trailer park was located on the east side of Haggerston, surrounded by a corrugated metal fence that corralled two looping roads, both lined by aging mobile homes. This had been home sweet home when Ben was being raised by his struggling single mother, Shyla Blake. She’d worked two jobs for as long as he could remember, and now that he could afford to pay her rent elsewhere, she downright refused to move.

“I’m fine,” she’d said. “Just fix the heat and get me an air conditioner. It might be humble, but it’s home.”

Ben had to admit that it did feel like home still, in spite of it all. His mother’s time had been monopolized by providing for him, and as a result, Ben had been generally unsupervised for much of his childhood. His mother worked the night shift at the front desk of a local hotel, and she’d call just to check on him. He could remember muting the TV to talk to her for a minute or two before she was noticed by her particularly grumpy boss. She’d done her very best for Ben, and whatever mistakes he’d made growing up certainly hadn’t been her fault.

Ben got out of the squad car, locked the door and headed up the walk. His mother flung the door open before he even reached the steps. She was a short woman with mouse-brown hair—dyed to stay that way—that was pulled up in a high ponytail and hair sprayed to stay in a floofy ’80s do that she couldn’t be convinced to relinquish.

“Hi, honey. I was so glad you said you were coming for supper. Come on in.”

The sound of a game show floated through the background, and he followed her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. His mother gave him a peck on the cheek, and he sank into one of two chairs that flanked a tiny, flyer-covered kitchen table.

“Macaroni and cheese?” he asked, nodding toward the stove.

“Your favorite,” she said, turning down the TV volume. “You look tired.”

“I’m wiped.”

“So I heard from Ellen who heard from Liza at the deli that Sofia McCray is back in town,” his mother said, shooting him an apologetic look. “Is it true?”

“Afraid so,” he replied.

“I’m surprised she’d show her face around here,” his mother muttered. “After she and that uppity mother of hers just walked off the way they did. Not a word to anyone—and left poor Steve by himself...”

She’d left Ben, too, for that matter.

“I always said Valentina McCray was hiding a bad core,” his mother went on. “And Sofia is just like her mother. I always said it, didn’t I? And you never believed me. I don’t know what all Valentina was hiding—an affair? Maybe even mob connections—”

“Being Italian doesn’t make her mafia,” Ben said with a sigh.

“I know, I know...” His mother turned back to the stove, lifting the lid off the bubbling pot to release some steam. “I’ve always said that I don’t care what country the girl is from, as long as she’s got a good heart. I’ve always said that, haven’t I? But the proof is in the pudding with that one!”

Ben wasn’t sure if “that one” referred to Sofia or her mother, but it probably didn’t much matter at this point of the conversation. His mother didn’t care for either woman. Everyone had known that the McCray marriage hadn’t been rock solid, but the gossips of Haggerston blamed it on Valentina because she was high-spirited, even though Steve hadn’t seemed to complain. Valentina was petite with a dark complexion that made her look twenty years younger than she was—sparking the envy of every woman in town. When Valentina up and left her husband, that was proof enough about her “bad core” in his mother’s books.

This was an old, oft-repeated conversation. They both knew it like the backs of their hands, and they went over it from time to time, just to buff it back to a shine. Ben’s mother had been thrilled when Ben had broken up with Sofia, even if he’d only done it because her father had convinced him that he was a loser who would just hold her back. Sofia had graduated high school and earned scholarships for her high grades. Ben hadn’t even graduated with his class that year, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere. That had done a number on his confidence. Steve McCray had told him privately that it was only a matter of time before Sofia saw what a loser he was and she’d move on to someone worthy of her. It made sense, and when Sofia had started questioning him about the future there in the parking lot, it had all crumbled down around him. He couldn’t offer her a future. He had nothing to give. So Ben had broken it off and driven away, convinced that if he did the dumping instead of getting the same treatment from her, it would be easier to bear. It hadn’t been, and he’d spent the past nine years wishing he’d at least gotten a goodbye.

“I actually saw Sofia today,” Ben said.

“Oh?”

“She’s a journalist now—”

“Well la-di-da.” Her voice dripped distain.

“And she’s been assigned to ride along with an officer for a couple of weeks to cover this new community watch project we’re starting up.” He shot his mother a boyish grin. “And the officer she’s riding with is me.”

His mother regarded him in silence for a long moment. “You’re kidding,” she finally said.

Ben shook his head. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don’t you go falling for her again,” his mother said. The pot started to boil over, and she whipped it off the burner.

Not falling for Sofia was easier said than done. Sitting with her in the car all day, the soft, floral scent of her wafting through the cab, had been awkward, but it had also been the sort of thing he’d dreamed about for the past nine years—another chance to just be next to her. He’d never really thought that he’d see her again.

“So what is she like now?” his mother asked as she tossed the noodles into a colander.

“She’s—” How was he supposed to tell his mother this? He swallowed. “She had a bit of news for me.”

She slowly raised her head, her brow crinkling in suspicion. “What kind of news?”

“She has an eight-year-old son.” He met his mother’s gaze and sucked in a breath. “And he’s mine.”

“Yours?” she asked weakly. “Are you sure? She could be lying.”

“No, I’m pretty sure,” he replied, shaking his head. “She didn’t seem too thrilled about me being his father as it is.”

Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes, and she stood stock-still for a long moment.

“You have a son,” she said in amazement. “That means I have a grandson.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works,” he said.

Then she dabbed at her mascara with the heel of one hand. “After little Mandy...”

He didn’t know what else to say, even though nothing else was necessary. His mother had been there with him through the whole ordeal when he lost Lisa and Mandy. She’d stood next to him like a soldier during the funeral, holding him up with the sheer force of her will and all of the muscle she had in her one-hundred-and-forty-pound body.

“Have you seen him?” his mother asked after a moment of silence.

“For about two minutes today. It was short.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jack.”

“And Sofia—what does she want?” she asked warily.

“Nothing that I know of,” he replied. “She just felt obliged to let me know, I guess.”

“After nine years?” she snapped. “She waited nine whole years to let you know that you have a son, and you think she doesn’t want anything? Mark my words, she wants money.”

“If he’s my son, I’ll support him,” Ben replied. “I have no problem with that.”

“What about her—is she married?” his mother pressed.

“No, she’s single, and before you start worrying, I don’t think she has any interest in me. In fact, she seems to think I’m no better than I was at seventeen.”

“You were a good kid.” His mother frowned.

“I got into a lot of trouble, Mom.”

“But you had a good heart,” his mother argued. Hearts were weighed differently than behavior, in her estimation of things.

“Of gold.” He could hear the bitterness in his own tone.

His mother had always believed that he was an innocent lamb, regardless of his suspension from school multiple times and a few serious warnings from the local police. Ben had been angry back then, and while he’d loved Sofia heart and soul, he wouldn’t have made a good husband or father. He could see that, and the most painful part of all of this was that he couldn’t entirely blame Sofia for making the choice that she did, even though that choice hurt him. A mother might love you no matter what you did, but a wife or a girlfriend—those were different rules to play by. And like Sofia had said, sometimes a woman just had a limit. Could he really blame her for drawing a line?

“At least Lisa didn’t know about all of this,” his mother said, her chin quivering at the memory, and he felt that old stab of guilt.

“No, Lisa should have known.”

“Just to hurt her?” his mother countered. “I think, for her, not knowing was kinder.”

“She could have made a more informed decision before marrying me,” he muttered.

Lisa had known about Sofia before they got married, and in their first year of marriage she’d stumbled across an old love letter Sofia had written him. Lisa had been hurt, not that he blamed her. She’d wanted to know why he kept it still, and while she’d never made any demands, he knew what he should have done—thrown it away. But he couldn’t. So he’d stashed it in the bottom of a drawer and felt uncomfortable all the same.

If an old letter could make Lisa feel territorial, what about a son? She’d gone through enough with him, and if she’d known that he and Sofia had a child together, she might not have thought that hitching her wagon to him was worth it. He certainly wouldn’t have blamed her.

“Grab me the milk,” his mother said, and Ben fetched the carton of milk from the fridge and passed it to her.

“He seems to have a lot of allergies,” Ben said.

“Allergies?” She poured a slosh of milk into the pot. “That did not come from us. We Blakes may be a lot of things, but we’re healthy as horses.”

“Don’t take it so personally. Allergies are common these days.”

“He must look like you,” his mother said, shooting him a smile. “Do you have a picture?”

“He looks like Sofia to me,” he admitted. “He’s got her dark hair and big, brown eyes. But no picture. Sorry.”

His mother gave the pot of macaroni and cheese a brisk stir, then nodded toward the table. “Clear off the flyers, would you?”

Ben did as she asked, sweeping the whole lot of them into a cardboard box that sat by the table for that purpose.

“So, what took her so long to tell you?” she asked, then plunked the pot into the center of the table and turned her back on him to grab some plates.

“I don’t know. I asked that, too. She said she was trying to protect him.”

“From who?” his mother demanded, coming back with two Corningware plates in hand. “You? Me? What are we going to do but love that little boy?”

He didn’t have any more answers than she did, and he heaved a tired sigh. “I don’t think I ever met my dad’s family, either.”

“They didn’t want to meet you,” his mother replied. “But I do want to get to know Jack. I’m his grandma...granny. Nana?” She raised her eyebrows. “Do I look like a nana?”

Ben laughed in spite of himself. “That’s a little premature.”

“Eight years... That’s not premature at all,” she retorted.

Many a night, his mother had mixed up an over-boiled pot of macaroni and cheese for him, sat down across from him at this very table and listened to him talk about his day. To this day, nothing tasted better than an overcooked Kraft Dinner—not that they ever got the “good brand.”

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, pouring a puddle of macaroni into his plate and then passing him a fork. She settled herself across from him. “Do you know?”

“I’m going to try and get to know him,” he replied. “I’m not going to let him grow up wondering if I cared.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“I just need to talk to Sofia and see if we can figure something out.”

She nodded slowly, but she didn’t say anything else. Ben imagined there wasn’t much else to be said. There was a child, but Jack had a mother who stood between him and the rest of the world, and even Shyla Blake could respect that. She’d been a single mother, too, after all.

They both picked up their forks and started to eat. His mind wasn’t on the food, though; it was on Sofia. He could still remember how it had felt when he’d gone to Sofia’s house a couple of days after their breakup, just to find her father standing behind the screen door in his bathrobe, his face haggard and his body oozing the smell of alcohol.

“You’re looking for Sofia?” he’d asked bitterly. “You’re a day too late. She and her mother left.”

“Left for where?” he’d demanded.

The older man had shrugged. “Don’t know. Just left.”

They’d stood there and stared at each other for a minute or two until the older man slowly shut the door, leaving Ben on the step, his heart suspended with shock. He’d dumped her and broken her heart, and she’d done what she had every right to do—left. She didn’t need to stick around and deal with him any longer, but he’d still hoped that he’d have a chance to say he was sorry. Was it selfish? Probably. And now she was gone, without any warning and without so much as a goodbye.

After he’d left the McCray house nine years earlier, Ben had gone back home, and his mother had made him a pot of macaroni and cheese and held him while he cried. Ben’s mother had loved him. Loved him like a rock. She’d seen the best in him when he failed to see it in himself, and every single time he sank into that kitchen chair, feeling like a failure and filled to the brim with anger at the world, she’d say the same thing.

“Benji,” his mother said, her voice pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah, Ma?”

“You’re a good man. And you’re my son. You remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Ma.”

That’s what she’d said to him every night. You’re a good boy, Benji. And you’re my boy. You remember that, okay?

She’d loved him like a rock.

* * *

Sofia didn’t believe in dieting. Having been raised by an Italian mother, she knew how to cook, and she knew how to eat, too. Her one concession was her nightly ritual on the treadmill, working off a few of the calories. And as for the few extra pounds she carried since high school, well, she embraced them along with the Italian cooking.

She was a little rounder now, a little softer, and a little stronger, too. Motherhood did that to a woman, and she had no complaints—that was a little piece of wisdom from her mother.

Wear some lipstick and clothes that fit. Where’s the joy in life if you can’t eat a full meal?

In fact, when Sofia had talked to her mother on the phone that evening, she’d said the same thing. Valentina believed in a woman’s right to eat a full plate of food, and she reminded Sofia of that on a regular basis.

Sofia wiped her forehead with a towel, breathing hard as the base automatically inclined to make the workout hurt just a little bit more. Jack was in the tub, and her father was watching TV in his bedroom, leaving the downstairs to herself. Her favorite crime drama was playing, an episode she’d already seen, but it was a comforting routine—treadmill and TV. Her mind wasn’t on the show, however. She needed to have a long overdue talk with Jack tonight, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to do this.

Lord, give me the words. Let me do this properly...

She heard the plug pull upstairs, and the water started to drain. Jack would be down any minute, wanting his snack before bed, so she stopped the treadmill and gratefully got off. Her legs felt like jelly, and she wiped her face once more as she headed into the kitchen to dish up a bowl of applesauce for her son. It would be gentle on his stomach after the cannolis today.

A few minutes later, Jack ambled into the kitchen. His pajama shirt was done up one button off, and his fingers looked pruney from the tub. He slid into his spot at the table and pulled the bowl of applesauce closer. He took a tentative bite.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Sofia said, sinking into the chair next to him. “Something really important.”

“Did I do something bad?” Jack asked warily.

“No, sweetie.” She reached over and put a hand on his arm. “Nothing bad, at all.”

“Oh, that’s good, then.” He took another bite, his spoon clinking against the side of the bowl.

“You know how you’ve been asking about your dad?” she asked. He’d been asking more often over the past couple of years, and she’d been giving him as little information as possible, even though she knew it was the wrong choice. He needed answers.

Jack nodded but didn’t say anything. His eating slowed, though, so she knew that she had his attention.

“Is there anything you’d like to ask about him now?” she asked hopefully.

Jack swallowed and frowned. “I have a dad, right?”

“Yes, you do,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him about you, though.”

“Who is he?” Jack asked.

“You met him today. He’s Benjamin Blake,” she said, and then closed her mouth, waiting for the information to sink in.

“The policeman?”

“Yes, the police officer,” she said.

“Does he know about me?” he asked after a moment.

“He didn’t know about you when he was here this morning. I told him after we left.”

“Was he happy to hear about me?”

That was a difficult question to answer. Her ride-along with Ben had not been smooth or comfortable. Ben was most certainly angry with her about not telling him earlier, and while fatherhood obviously hadn’t been part of his plans right now, he’d been adamant that he did care about his son.

“Sweetie, you are very good news,” she said gently. “You were a bit of a surprise, though.”

“Hmm.” Jack nodded slowly. “What’s his name again?”

“Benjamin Blake.”

“I’m a McCray,” Jack said defensively. “I don’t have to stop being a McCray, do I?”

“Of course not!” Sofia slipped an arm around him and pulled him against her. “You’re always going to be my boy, Jack. That will never change, and you and I are McCrays. Period.”

Jack was silent, and she couldn’t see his face past his ruffled hair. What was he feeling? Was he going to be mad at her, too, for having waited so long?

“So...” Sofia paused and nudged him up so she could see her son’s face. “How do you feel about this?”

“I don’t know if I want a dad,” Jack replied after a moment.

“How come?” she asked.

“I have you.” Tears misted his eyes.

“Yes, you do.” Sofia planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Look, Jack, you don’t have to worry about anything. You aren’t going to lose me. I’m your mom. That doesn’t change. Okay?”

Jack nodded. “Does he have any kids? Do I have a brother or sister?”

“I don’t think so, sweetie. I think you’re the only one.”

“Do I have another grandma and grandpa, then?”

“Yes, but we can wait before we meet anyone else. I think this is enough for now. It’s kind of a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “My friend Carlton’s parents are divorced, and he has to stay with his dad every weekend. Will I have to do that?”

“It isn’t about making you do anything,” she replied. “It’s about...” She sucked in a breath. “I suppose we’ll take it a step at a time.”

“Are you going to make me hang out with him now?” he asked.

“Not if you aren’t ready.” She smoothed his hair. “I have a feeling you’ll want to know him, though,” she said.

Jack nodded again.

“And, sweetheart?” She put her hands on the sides of his face and smiled down into his eyes. “I love you. With all my heart.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” He wriggled out of her hands.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked tentatively.

“I’m going to read my comics,” he said.

It wasn’t much of an answer, but it would have to do. Jack needed to process things, and apparently he needed to do that away from her. It stabbed a little. “Sure,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t look as strained as she felt.

Jack ambled into the living room, and Sofia watched him go, her heart full. Had she done this right? Had she used the right words? Did he understand how much she loved him?

She closed her eyes and sighed, seeking her own comfort. She knew that God forgave her for her mistakes, and Jack was the perfect redemption of all the bad choices. He was a beautiful boy who showed her every day how God worked. Right now, she needed God, too. While Jack might be wary of having a father, she longed for her Father in Heaven to smooth this over and to bring them both some peace.

Her cell phone rang, and she looked down at the incoming number. It was Ben. She paused, glancing into the living room where Jack sat reading a book, then picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” Ben’s voice was low. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. Chief Taylor gave me your number.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she reassured him.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve been better, to be honest,” she replied with a sigh. “How about you?”

“I’ve had some time to think,” he said. “I wanted to thank you for telling me about Jack. I know you didn’t have to.”

Actually, Jack looked so much like his father that it was only a matter of time before someone put it together, but she wasn’t about to say that right now. Ben was trying to be agreeable, and that counted for something.

“It’s okay,” she said. “In fact, I talked to Jack about you tonight.”

There was a pause. “Oh, yeah? How much did you tell him?”

“That you’re his father,” she said. She sank into a kitchen chair, suddenly feeling very tired.

“How did he take it?” Ben asked.

“Well...” She wished she knew for certain. “He’s still digesting it, I think.”

“Did he say if he wanted to see me?” There was hope in his voice, and she sighed.

“This is all really new to him. He’s asked about you before, but this is the first time I’ve laid it all out for him, and I think he’s in a bit of shock. He needs some time with this.”

“Yeah, that’s fair enough,” Ben said, but he sounded a little deflated.

This was her fault, really. Her son had little interest in knowing his father because she’d never talked about him, never shown him any pictures. She’d told him that it would be just the two of them, and that they’d be just fine together. Then, after fending off all sorts of questions about the father he’d never met, she’d presented Ben as if he was supposed to be good news. Of course this would be a big adjustment for Jack. How could it be otherwise?

“I told my mom about Jack today,” Ben said, and Sofia felt her heart constrict.

Mrs. Blake had never liked Sofia, and she’d made no secret about it. At first, Sofia had thought it was simple maternal protectiveness, thinking that no girl would ever be good enough for her son, but after a few months she’d realized that it went deeper than that. She’d always felt a little wounded about that when she and Ben had been dating. But she was no longer a teenager, and while Ben’s mother’s opinion of her didn’t matter to her personally, it did matter to her when it came to her son. Shyla Blake was Jack’s grandmother, and if his grandmother hated her, how exactly would this extended family work?

“Does she still hate me?” Sofia asked, attempting to keep the edge out of her voice.

“She’s just protective,” Ben said absently. “She’ll be fine.”

Sofia had tried to forget that with introducing her son to his father, she’d also be introducing him to the entire extended family. Sofia hadn’t ever had to share him before. Even when it came to dating, she was cautious and didn’t bring any men close enough for Jack to get attached. She’d lived near her mother in California, but it had felt natural to share her child with her own mother. Shyla was a different story. Shyla was a woman biased against her at every step.

“Your mom complicates this,” she said. “Jack doesn’t need the pressure right now.”

“The pressure of meeting his grandmother?” Ben asked, and she noted the tension in his voice.

“Ben, let’s just be straight here,” she said with a sigh. “Your mother can’t stand me, and Jack has just been told that you exist. This is going to be very difficult for him, and it will be harder still if he’s introduced to a grandmother who hates his mom.”

“And harder for you,” he added.

“Yes,” she said, her irritation rising. “It would definitely make it harder for me. And while we all want to make Jack the highest priority here, as his mother, I definitely factor in!”

“Hey, I didn’t say you didn’t. I was just pointing out that it would be harder for you, too.”

She sucked in a breath and attempted to control her temper. She knew that Shyla was a part of the equation, too, and that scared her. No one happily handed their child over to bond with someone who actively disliked them.

“Full disclosure here,” Ben said after a moment. “My mom is still mad because you left.”

“I thought she’d be glad to be rid of me,” Sofia said wryly.

“Yeah, me, too.” Ben laughed softly. “She was always afraid you’d hurt me, and then when you left, she was proven right. I know you had every right to go—we weren’t together then—but it was still hard for me. I know she can come off as really tough and thick-skinned, but deep down she just wants to protect me. You’re a mom, too. I’m sure you understand that feeling.”

She did, actually. Sofia would do anything to protect her son from being hurt, and the thought of some girl ripping his heart out in eight or ten years was agonizing. But this wasn’t about Shyla’s grown son; this was about Sofia’s little boy. There was a big difference.

“I’m willing to have you get to know Jack,” Sofia said, “but I don’t want to include anyone else in that right now. And that includes your mom. Meeting his dad is big enough.”

“I’m fine with that,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll have to be.” He was quiet for a moment. “So I have a question for you. How come your dad never filled me in about Jack?”

Sofia knew that when Ben had time to think this through, he’d resent her. It stood to reason that he’d resent the people who’d helped her keep her secret, but her father wasn’t in a place to be handling anything extra on top of his cancer treatments.

“Because I asked him not to,” she said firmly.

“So your whole family kept the secret?” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

They had, and saying it out loud made it sound worse somehow. They’d all agreed that keeping the secret would be best for Jack. Jack needed a certain caliber of person in his life, and his father hadn’t made the cut. Her parents were just as happy to pretend that Ben had never existed. Once she’d moved to California with her mother, she’d never come back to see her father, either. It had been a tangled mess of strained relationships.

“Your dad and I actually saw each other pretty often,” Ben said. “I mean, in a place this size it’s hard to avoid people, but more than that, I think that I was the only one who really understood what your dad was going through.”

“So you were friends?” she asked, surprised.

“No, not friends,” he replied. “It was all pretty unspoken. But I helped him out when he needed it, and we—” He sighed. “It’s a guy thing. Men don’t have to talk these things through.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized.”

“So if he let eight years pass and never once told me that I was a father, you aren’t the only one with a few grievances, Sofia. I know your dad didn’t want you and me together, but once there is a child in the mix—” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. She understood the point.

Their relationship—in any form—had never been supported by either of their families. She felt as if the room was getting closer, and all those old tensions from years ago were sweeping back in between them: his mother’s resentment, her parents’ disapproval and the fact that Ben was so much like her father that it hurt.

“Ben, I’ve been the center of Jack’s world for his entire life,” she said, her voice quivering with emotion. “This isn’t about my dad, and it isn’t about your mom. Not yet, at least.”

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