I had meant that word in the generic sense, forgetting for a second he (probably) was my son. He had to be. I refused to believe Juliette faked her innocence back then and had slept with anyone else aside from me. We used protection both times that night, though. How had I gone from being in denial that he was my son to now being terrified he wasn’t? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Are you into my mom?” The unmistakable disgust in his voice sliced through the air. “Is that what this is about?” He boldly eliminated the gap between us and planted a hand on my chest.

He’d set his palm over my heart. The heart I’d left with his mother seventeen years ago, and apparently, she passed it on to her son. No, our son. He’s ours. I think.

Wild enough, it felt like my heart was back in my chest. Beating. Pulsing. Alive again in his presence.

“You like her.” He retracted his hand as our gazes continued to clash. “You think she can be some rich man’s trophy? She doesn’t need a playboy asshole in her life.”

“Watch your mouth,” I snapped back, unable to stop myself. Yeah, you want to go to war? Let’s go.

“Or what?” He jutted out his chin, and I straightened my posture to regain my few inches over him at six-two.

Instead of antagonizing or intimidating him, I really needed to de-escalate this showdown and deflect answering his question about his mom. “Why were you in a fight at school?”

He backed away, lowered his hood, then ran his hands through his hair.

“Why are you asking questions again that aren’t your business, bruh?”

“Not your bro.” I cursed in Italian so he wouldn’t hear my filthy mouth—I was no better than him—and tried to get a handle on my emotions. I just didn’t know which one to focus on first. There were too many, chaotically running roughshod over each other inside me and pulling me apart. I wasn’t used to not being in control, and I hated it.

Colin eliminated the space between us, pointing his finger like a weapon. Stabbing the air, he hissed, “I will not let you get close to my mom and hurt her. That’s not why I stole your wallet. Not to bring some rich asshole into her life.”

I lifted my hands from my pockets, keeping them at my sides, while his index finger remained in my face.

Anyone else, kid, anyone else, and you’d already have a broken finger.

“So, why’d you steal my wallet?”

He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “Are you letting me shop on your dime because you’re using it as an excuse to weasel your way into her life?”