Chapter Twenty Six

Kyla.

The moment the door clicks shut behind Jake, the weight of everything comes crashing down on me.

I grip the blanket until my knuckles ache, my breath shaky as I stare at the ceiling. The room is too white, too quiet, and yet my mind is anything but. His words echo in my chest, beating against the walls I’ve spent years building. Children.

He’s not stupid. He’s already circling around it, piecing things together. And I God, I’ve never felt so cornered in my life.

My body aches in ways I can’t describe. Every muscle feels bruised, my ribs sore, my head pounding from the accident. The doctor said it would take days before I’d be strong enough to leave this bed. Days. And all I can think about are the faces waiting for me at home.

The kids.

My heart seizes at the thought of them. Their small hands, their laughter, their wide, trusting eyes. They don’t know what happened. They don’t know why their mother hasn’t come home yet.

And the fear God, the fear is suffocating.

Because I can’t call Jake. I can’t ask him to go to them. If he steps one foot into that world, if he sees even a glimpse of the truth, everything I’ve been protecting crumbles.

My eyes sting as I press my palms against them, biting back a sob. I’ve managed for so long to keep them hidden, to raise them quietly, to shield them from the storm that is Jake Bennett. He doesn’t know, and I swore to myself he never would. It was safer that way. for me, for them.

But now?

I’m lying here broken, with wires attached to me and a body that won’t cooperate. I can’t get up, can’t run home, can’t make sure they’ve eaten, that they’re safe, that they haven’t cried themselves to sleep wondering where I am.

The panic claws at my chest, leaving me gasping. My hands tremble as I reach for my phone on the bedside table. The nurse must have set it there after checking my belongings. My fingers hover over the screen, scrolling through contacts.

Who can I trust?

My family? No. They’ve always been too entangled in their own judgments, their disapproval cutting sharper than any knife. Friends? The ones I had drifted away when I disappeared into motherhood, when I became a ghost of the woman I once was.

There are so few people left.

And Jake, he’s the one person I can’t call, even though he’s the only one close enough, powerful enough, to make sure everything is okay. The thought of him walking into my children’s world is like pressing a detonator. It would blow everything apart.

A sob escapes before I can stop it, muffled against my hand.

I can almost see it, Jake standing in the doorway of my small apartment, his tall frame filling the space that’s too humble, too modest for him. His sharp eyes landing on toys scattered across the floor, on drawings taped to the fridge, on beds that are not just mine.

The questions would come, sharp and endless. The anger. The betrayal.

And then?

Would he hate me? Would he take them from me?

My whole body shakes with the force of that fear. I know Jake. Once he decides something belongs to him, nothing can stop him. If he finds out, he won’t let them go. He won’t let me go. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive being under his shadow again.

But they need someone.

My phone slips from my hand onto the blanket as another sob breaks free. I press my fist to my mouth, trying to quiet the sound, but it’s useless. The dam has broken.

What kind of mother am I if I just lie here while they wait?

I curl onto my side as much as the IV will allow, my body protesting the movement, but I don’t care. My thoughts spin in endless circles, each one ending with the same impossible truth: I can’t go to them, and I can’t ask the one man who could.

The helplessness is unbearable.

I think of their faces again the way my daughter tilts her head when she’s curious, the way my son curls up against me at night, still small enough to believe my arms are the safest place in the world. I picture them waking up this morning, rubbing sleep from their eyes, calling for me, only to find the apartment silent.

Tears stream down my cheeks unchecked.

I have to find a way. Someone. Anyone.

I grab my phone again, scrolling desperately. My thumb hovers over a name Mara. She used to babysit when I had late shifts. She lives a few blocks away, not perfect, not family, but she cared for them once. Maybe she still would.

My chest tightens as I open a message, fingers trembling so badly I can barely type. Mara, it’s Kyla. I’m in the hospital. Please, can you check in on the kids? Just make sure they’re okay. I’ll explain later. Please.

I stare at the screen, my breath caught. If I send this, I’m admitting weakness. I’m letting someone else into the secret. But I don’t have a choice.

With a shaky exhale, I hit send.

The phone slips from my grasp again, my strength draining out of me. I close my eyes, my tears soaking into the pillow. My body aches, but nothing hurts more than the gnawing fear of Jake finding out.

Because if Mara can’t go, if something happens, if word gets back to him…

The truth will explode out into the open.

And then everything I’ve fought to protect will come undone.

I curl tighter under the blanket, whispering to myself like a prayer. “Please let them be okay. Please, God, don’t let him find out. Not like this. Not yet.”

But deep down, I know secrets don’t stay buried forever.

And mine is about to claw its way to the surface.