Chapters (30)
- 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
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Epilogue One
- Epilogue Two
- Books By Natasha Madison
- Acknowledgments
“Actually, me neither,” I say, and I hang up on him. Fuck him, he kept me from her. The next day, he kicked me off his property and refused to let me see Kallie. Then two days later, her father told me she was gone, and I found out he snuck her out of town.
Grabbing my keys, I say goodbye to Monica while I walk out into the hot Southern heat. I’m walking down the steps when I hear Ethan call my name. “Dad!” he shouts, and I turn to look at him. Luckily for both of us, my son looks exactly like Savannah, but he’s my son right down to my bones. I bend to catch him while he runs to me, and I bury my face into his neck, giving him a kiss. His laughter gets louder, and then I hear cars honking. I look at where it’s coming from, and it’s like I’m brought back to eight years ago. It has to be because there is no way I am actually seeing what I am seeing.
Kallie, looking as beautiful as she did when she walked away from me without giving me a second thought. The same Kallie who said she would always stand by me. The same Kallie I slowly started to hate. “Oh my God.” I look at Savannah beside me. “Is that Kallie?” she asks.
Chapter Four
Kallie
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” I keep chanting it over and over again, and I blink away the tears that have formed in my eyes the minute I saw him with his son. His son.
“Kallie,” Olivia whispers. She puts her hand on mine, and I just shake my head. “Is that him?”
“Oh, that was him all right.” I wipe away the lone tear that escapes and rolls down my cheek. “He and his son and probably his wife.”
“Probably his wife?” she asks. “Probably?”
My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white. “I don’t exactly know.”
“And why don’t you know?” She throws her hands up and huffs.
“Because I didn’t want to know,” I say, turning onto the gravel road that leads to my family’s property. “After I left, I didn’t want to know.”
“But how?” She looks out the window as the trees pass us by.
“They tried to, but I shut it down. I told them I would no longer call if they even brought him up.” I take a deep inhale. “I couldn’t think of him with her, and I didn’t want to know. I locked it away and refused to even think about it.”