It was Thursday, and Saturday felt like forever away, especially since I had an op planned between now and then. I had to get to the truth, though. I had to know if it was her.

Curious if she remembered to remove the photo, I opened the box.

The photo was still inside the heart—Juliette with her son when he was a baby. I stared at the image for a minute as another wave of familiarity washed over me. I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing what my heart wanted to see or if it was really her. What were the chances it was? A million to one? Maybe greater.

I forced myself to close the heart, set aside the necklace, and went to the bar for a different bottle of Legacy Ridge.

Pieces of my past clicked into place with each step I took.

The woman I’d met that night had been celebrating her twenty-first birthday, and Juliette was about to turn thirty-eight this month. Her son was sixteen, so she had him a few months before she turned twenty-two.

I opened my phone and looked at the photo of Colin I’d saved during my search to find him.

My vision became hazy as I continued to focus on the image of him. “Colin Carmichael.”

I abruptly dropped to my knees.

Pain stretched through my limbs.

Clawed from the inside out with sharpened blades and ripped out my heart.

The kid may have had the same facial features, hair, and build as me, even the same attitude, but that didn’t mean he was my . . .

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible. We used protection.

I peered up at the top shelf and to the Legacy Ridge bottle. My favorite bourbon was owned by Colin’s grandfather, of all people.

No. You can’t be mine.

You can’t be my son.

4. Constantine

Chapter 4

Constantine

Oranjestad, Aruba - Seventeen Years Ago

I was beginning to think it was preordained that I’d constantly find myself in situations where someone needed saving, and I was genetically hardwired to step forward and help.

“Here we go again,” my buddy said, a warrant officer who always chose to steer clear of my kind of trouble.

He must’ve recognized the look in my eyes and saw where my attention was laser focused. An asshole was bothering a woman, and no one around her was doing anything about it.

“We have a flight to catch tonight.” John could be the voice of reason in my ear all he wanted, but that wouldn’t change anything if this prick didn’t remove his hands from that girl in the next three seconds. And he knew it. “Look, just don’t wind up in jail. Your father will be pissed if he has to bail you out after another fight.”

I side-eyed him, shaking my head. “None of the fights are ever my fault.”