I stared at the first photo of two children smiling for the camera. The little girl was dressed in a pink frilly dress, her blonde hair and blue eyes reminding me of her mother. Yet there was something in the stubborn set of her jaw and mischief shining in those eyes that reminded me of myself. The little boy had brown eyes and dark brown hair. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans. He was barely smiling, his gaze intense. He was the spitting image of me. My heart soared as I gaped at the two of them.

I was a father. A fucking father. They were part of me, and I was part of them. My chest swelled with pride for these two little lives I’d helped create. They were my blood, and I knew in that instant I’d fight to be a part of their lives.

“That’s Hailey and Heath,” Caro said.

I didn’t comment but turned to the next photograph. Heath was in full hockey gear and racing down the ice. Emotion surged inside me, filling my chest with a mixture of wonder, sorrow, and love. He was my son. I couldn’t speak, and I kept my gaze turned away from Caro. Hot tears burned in my eyes, and my heart felt as if it might burst from my chest.

My son.

The next picture was of Hailey, also on skates, but in a figure-staking costume and executing a spin. A vise closed over my chest, and I rubbed my eyes with my fists. She was my daughter as much as he was my son.

Holy fuck.

I’d been slammed against the boards headfirst. I’d never known such pain yet such incredible awe for these children I’d helped put on this earth.

“They’re athletic, like you. Heath is the best player on his team. Hailey is a star among her group.” Caro’s voice was husky, betraying her own misgivings and regrets. This hadn’t been easy for her either. I almost felt sorry for her.

I said nothing, merely looked through the three pictures again. There were no words when a man found out he was a father for the first time. No words to explain the emotions filling my heart with joy for the future and sadness for all I’d missed.

I cleared my throat and held the photographs tenderly in my fingers. Finally, I lifted my head and met Caro’s gaze. Her eyes were full of sympathy, laden with guilt, and sprinkled with apprehension.

“What do you want from me?” I croaked huskily, just grateful I didn’t break down and sob and reveal weakness to her. I revealed weakness to no one.

When my dad died, the pain of my loss overwhelmed me. I never wanted to feel pain like that again, and I’d managed to keep my emotions in check until I’d met Caro that summer. I’d let her in, I’d become immersed in her, and I’d walked away when the summer ended.

I met her gaze, displaying my hockey face, the one that betrayed no emotion other than determination. She stared at her hands in her lap. I waited, calling forth patience. She sighed and lifted her gaze to meet mine.