I couldn’t even look anyone in the eye on my way out of the school, worrying that they’d see the rage that burned inside me. My steps were hard and fast as I stormed to my truck, not paying any attention to the world around me. I had so many thoughts crammed inside my head, fighting for control, threatening to take me under. My mind became consumed with fear, worry, anger…any and every emotion under the sun, and it made my drive to her house pass by quickly. I paid no attention to the speed limit, couldn’t recall how many—if any—red lights I’d hit on my way. It was nothing but a blur. But by the time I pulled up to her house, throwing the truck in park, my hands ached from the way I’d apparently gripped the wheel with every ounce of strength I had in me.

Bree wasn’t there by the time I pulled up, and I had to wait for her. The waiting only served to increase my temper, adding fuel to the fire as every moment passed. A fire that had been lit inside my chest and then, it’d burned into an inferno, causing my skin to blister regardless of the ice-cold air blowing through the vents as I waited. The time it took me to get there blurred, yet as I sat in my truck parked in front of her house, waiting on her to show up, I felt every painful second as it ticked by.

Finally, her car pulled into the driveway. I didn’t wait for her to get out before stomping toward her. I didn’t wait for her to open her door before I grabbed the handle, swinging it open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. And the moment she stepped out of the car, I slammed it closed, rocking the entire vehicle on its wheels. I stalked toward her front door, not bothering to wait for her.

“Axel—”

I slammed my palm on her closed front door, immediately cutting off her words. Without turning to her, keeping my stiff back in her direction, I growled in the deepest, most angry voice I’d ever used, “Just open the damn door. Unless you want your entire neighborhood to know how pissed I am at you right now.”

Her hands shook violently as her fingers attempted to work the lock. The keys dropped to the porch, and without the patience to wait on her, I picked them up and finished the job myself, worrying that the anger-fueled strength I used would break the key off in the deadbolt. I flung it open, marched inside, and paced the small living room with my head buried in my hands. I had so much to say, so many questions and thoughts I needed to get out, but they all fought for control. I couldn’t seem to organize anything in my head to get out what I needed to.

Aubrey sat quietly on the couch, studying her twisted fingers in her lap. In one glance, my heart broke for her, imagining what it must’ve been like for her to be seventeen and pregnant. But the moment didn’t last long before I remembered her lies, her deceit, and that’s when the heartbreak quickly turned to betrayal.

I stood in front of her, every muscle in my body twitching, as I bent down enough for her to feel my words. “I dare you to lie to my face, Aubrey. Look me in the eye”—I waited for her tear-filled gaze to meet mine—“and tell me Ayla isn’t my kid.”

Her face scrunched with pain before she covered it with her hands.

“Stop!” I grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, making her look at me. “You don’t have the right to hide from me. You don’t have the right to cry. Look me in the eyes and tell me who Ayla’s father is.”

She hiccupped a sob.

“Tell me!”

“You are!” she screamed through her tears, pushing me away and standing up. Getting in my face, finding her own anger, she yelled, “But you don’t have the right to question me! You don’t have the right to come in here and point fingers, assign blame, and condemn me. I’ve done it all on my own for six years, ever since finding out I was pregnant. I don’t need you.” Her voice may have been strong, and her body told of the fight she experienced inside, yet as if I could hear her thoughts, I knew she was anything but strong.

My voice lowered, but it remained just as harsh as I said, “Don’t blame me for that. You chose to do it all by yourself. You chose to keep me out of it. So don’t stand here and act all justified for lying to me about her. Don’t act like I knocked you up and then split, making you do it all alone.”

Her arms spread out and she leaned her chest in, as if ready for combat. “What was I supposed to do, Axel…put up a smoke signal, letting you know you had a kid? You vanished! You packed up your house and you left! You took that choice away from me.”

My hostility deflated some, knowing she was right. In all the anger that boiled inside me about not knowing that I’d had a kid, I never once thought about how that must’ve been for her. I did leave, and I’d made it nearly impossible for her to find me. Not to mention, at that time, I had no idea about her mom and that her dad had taken her away, too. “Fine. I get it, I left and inadvertently forced you to do it all by yourself. However, you’re missing one very big, important key to this equation… You’ve known for a week and a half that I live here. I’ve known for a week that you even have a daughter. I’ve asked about who her father was, and you lied to me.”

“I never lied to you, Axel. I just didn’t say it was you. I worded things in a way that you wouldn’t know it was you. You never asked me outright if she was yours, so I never lied.” Her voice had gone weak, the battle in her tone nearly disappearing, yet she remained strong in her plight.

I laughed humorlessly at her mention of wording things. “Are you kidding me? We had sex once, Aubrey! I wore a condom. It didn’t rip. It wasn’t defective, as you stated before. I was never even inside of you bare until last week. Did the thought even cross my mind that she was mine? Maybe for a split nanosecond. But most of that was purely out of wishful thinking. Not to mention, I was sure that if she had been mine, you would’ve told me. We talked about having a family together—no! We planned that in our future together. So why in the hell would I question you when you tell me it was just some kid from school?”

“Fuck you, Axel!” The tears came back, cascading down to her quivering chin. “You make it sound like it was just some random fuck. ‘It was one time. I wore a condom. It didn’t rip.’” She mimicked me with an emotionless attitude, trying to portray that I had said it like that. “It was my fucking virginity, asshole! I gave that to you. I trusted you enough to have it!”

“Stop twisting my words. You know it meant just as much to me as it did to you.”

“Do I? Do I really, Axel? Because right now, I don’t.”

I took a small step closer to her. My anger still burned within me, but at the same time, I felt broken by her accusation—her belief that her gift to me meant nothing. “I remember that day so vividly. I remember the tears I shed after school over your pain—the one and only time in my adult life I’ve ever cried. Because of you. I can’t get the images of your back out of my head, even after six years. The way you flinched when I cleaned your cuts, when I bandaged them. I’ve replayed every minuscule detail in my mind over and over again, to the point where I’d convinced myself that our time together on my couch had only been a dream. If I’d only wanted to fuck you, I would’ve done it in my back yard on prom night. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I tried to push you away. I’d brought you home to clean up your back, not to take your virginity. And if it didn’t mean anything to me, I would’ve taken you in my kitchen, with you on the counter, instead of carrying you to the couch where you’d be more comfortable. I would’ve had you beneath me, not caring about your injuries. I would’ve taken charge instead of letting you lead the whole way.

“That’s not how I’d wanted it to be with you for the first time. That’s not how I wanted you to give yourself to me. You were cut and hurt…you were in pain after suffering another round of abuse by your mother. That’s not how I wanted it to be between us. But the way you begged me to make you feel safe, to love you the way no other man ever would…I couldn’t say no. It was your gift to give, and I had to let you do it your way, accepting it without concern for the consequences. I would have rather waited until I could love you the way you deserved to be loved your first time. Had I known what would’ve happened that week at school, I never would’ve done it.” My voice had grown so quiet, so gravelly, I almost didn’t think it was mine.