Chapter 2

Natalie

“You are gonna poke a hole in his face if you keep staring at him like that.” Freda’s voice slams me from behind, and I turn around, hand on my heart.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.”

Standing in the doorway, my best-friend-slash-roommate holds grocery bags in one hand and a gym bag slung over her other shoulder. Freda has been my anchor through everything.

Whether it’s being an emergency contact at Harry’s preschool, babysitting when work takes control over my life, or being my only family after my dad died when I was seventeen, Freda’s been with me through it all.

We met during my senior year of high school when she transferred from Chicago after her parents' messy divorce. Two broken girls who found family in each other.

She needed stability after years of her parents' toxic marriage and them ignoring her, and I needed someone who understood what it felt like to navigate the world without a safety net.

It also helped that she worked from home as an online consultant.

“You should be scared,” she spits, her eyes wandering to my laptop screen before she drops the grocery bags on the counter by the foyer. “I cannot believe you are going through with this insane plan.”

“It’s a job just like any other. Paul says if I get this, my career could take off.”

Coming to sit in front of me, Freda furrows her brows and her dark eyes flash with disbelief at my words.

“This isn’t just a job or about your career, and we both know it. Paul doesn’t know you climbed that six-foot-two slab of an athlete like he was Mount Everest and came back down with a baby.”

While she’s right in calling my bluff, telling her I hooked up with Jaxon might be one of my worst mistakes. Especially because Freda never misses a chance to say that “climbed the Dallas Titans’ quarterback like a tree” joke.

“Harry could hear you, you know?” I tell her.

“My nephew goes into his own world when he starts playing. Don’t try to sidetrack me, Natalie. This is about confronting Jaxon Wolfgang. You've spent five years building an incredible life without him, being an amazing mother to Harry, creating a career you can be proud of. Why risk all of that for a man who treated you like garbage?"

"Because I need answers, Freda." The words burst out before I can stop them. "Because Harry asks questions about his father that I can't answer. Because I've spent five years wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn't even worth a simple explanation."

Freda's expression softens, but her voice remains clipped.

"What if you don't like the answers you get? What if seeing him again tears open wounds that are finally starting to heal?"

"What if it finally gives me closure?" I counter.

"What if I can put this chapter behind me and move forward without carrying all this anger and confusion everywhere I go?"

What if it helps me from getting triggered every time I see Jaxon’s photos in the magazines, tabloids, at work, or in that energy drink section at my favorite grocery store that has his smug face plastered all over the products?

"And what about Harry?" Freda gestures toward the patio where my son is seated on the artificial grass, playing with paint and rocks. "You've protected him from this drama for four years. Are you ready to risk him being known as Jaxon’s son?"

The question slams into me like a kick to the teeth, and imagining my son’s happy life being taken away and him facing paparazzi or backlash from the media or Jaxon’s rejection scares me.

“This is about me getting answers and walking away. Jaxon doesn’t need to know about Harry,” I say, my teeth gritted.

“And if he does? I don’t know anything about the man other than what you’ve told me and what the media writes, but Natty, he’s one of the most powerful men in professional sports. Do you honestly think he’ll just walk away from you when he knows he’s got a son out here?”

I've thought about this scenario countless times during sleepless nights, but hearing Freda say it makes it more terrifying.

“He abandoned us. There’s no room for him in our lives, whether I get closure or not,” I say, my throat running dry with contempt.

Freda breaches the distance between us and holds my hands.

"Then promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't let him destroy what you've worked so hard to build."

"I promise," I whisper.

Then I look back at Jaxon's photo on my laptop screen, at my son playing outside, and realize I'm about to risk everything I've built for the chance to finally understand why the man I fell for left me so completely broken.