“Of course,” I lied as his thumb dug into my instep. “Have you talked to your mother lately?” I asked, changing the subject. His father had died a couple of years ago, and Evan had become the CEO of Cavanaugh Financial. They had branches in most major cities, so it had been no problem for him to work out of the Dallas office.

“This morning, actually. She’s staying busy.” He went on to tell me about the activities she was getting involved in at her retirement community, but I was only half-listening. Why haven’t you called me yet, Axel? He had seemed so enamored with Carrie that I had assumed he would be anxious to talk to me about her.

Blaire, you might want to teach Carrie how to spell Broxton. That had sounded like he was interested in being a part of our daughter’s life, right? Maybe he was surprised and curious at first, but when he had time to think about it, he realized a child would put a serious damper on his playboy lifestyle. He could have at least had the decency to call, though.

A little before ten, Evan cautiously said, “Blaire, maybe we should try and get some sleep. You have a surgery in the morning.” I nodded, feeling dejected, disappointed, and angry. How the hell could Axel look into that little girl’s face and then reject her like this?

I wiped off my makeup and put my pajamas on, feeling the sadness creep in as I got into bed and tried to sleep.

I was done with Axel Broxton.

SECOND QUARTER

SECOND QUARTER

13. Axel

Axel

“What the hell is going on?” I croaked. There were flashing lights and loud noises and some kind of weird metallic taste in my mouth.

A round, sweet face with a low, blonde ponytail appeared above me. “Sir, you’ve been in an auto accident. Can you tell me your name?”

I cleared my throat and ran my tongue around my mouth. Blood. That’s what the metallic taste was. There was a sore spot on my cheek. I must have bitten it. “Axel Broxton,” I said, the words sounding choppy as they left my mouth. Fuck! Why did it hurt my chest to talk?

“Good,” she said with a smile, shining the light of a thousand suns into my eyes. “Pupils are equal and reactive,” she called to someone over her shoulder. “Can you tell me what hurts, sir?”

I flexed my arms and legs… seemed to be okay. I took a deep breath and almost passed out again. “Hurts to breathe,” I said in a squeaky voice that I didn’t recognize as my own. “People in the other car okay?” Please, God. Let them be okay.