Page 49 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

Something crossed Clara’s gaze, a sadness deeper than anything I’d ever seen before. “You’ll have to ask Aria.”

I frowned. “If you won’t tell me, she certainly won’t.”

“Give it time.” She gave me a watery smile. “Don’t take her freedom, Brody. Don’t take her control.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“No, you’re keeping your control. You need to find a way where you can both have it.”

“Share,” I grumbled. I’d hated the word share since kindergarten.

“Yes.” She laughed. “You have to share.”

I turned my back to her, facing the glass. When she walked outside to join her son, I resumed my pacing. It was the only way to keep my vibrating nerves from shaking my bones loose. This restless energy had plagued me since Aria had told me she was pregnant. I’d paced a lot since.

I was becoming a father.

Christ. What had I gotten myself into? It would be easy to blame it on the champagne. I didn’t drink often, certainly not like I had at the wedding. But it hadn’t been a drunken haze. It had been Aria.

Sitting on my counter in that stunning green dress, her feet bare, she’d rendered me helpless. One kiss and I’d been lost.

Lost in her mouth, her hands, her taste. Four months later and I couldn’t get that night out of my head. Her body, sleek and tight, had been a dream. Moving inside her, hovering above her, had been the best sex of my life.

“Don’t,” I told myself. It had been a constant reminder over the past couple months.

Sex could not, would not, enter into this arrangement. Aria and I had a tumultuous relationship at best. Somehow, we had to forge a truce. A friendship would be ideal, but I’d settle for civility.

I just wanted my kid to know me. That was it. Simple. I didn’t need love and adoration. I just wanted knowledge.

Liar. I couldn’t even fool myself.

I wanted love. I wanted my son or daughter to think I was the best man in the world. There was no way I’d pull it off. But that wouldn’t stop me from trying. How was I supposed to be a good father? There hadn’t been a kind and gentle male influence in my life. What did I know about raising a child?

I breathed and swallowed the fears. The insecurities would attack later. Probably for the rest of my life.

Down the driveway, something flickered. I stood straighter, leaning closer to the glass as a white and orange truck emerged. My heart leapt into my throat as I rushed from the window, jogging for the front door. I flung it open and hurried outside, joining Clara in the driveway. August was racing down the concrete, his arms waving as he screeched, “Aunt Aria!”

She honked, the noise more of a muted bark than a blare. Her smile beamed from behind the wheel as she eased the truck to a stop with an ear-splitting squeal of its brakes.

“That is the truck she rented?”

“Shut it.” Clara elbowed me in the ribs, then rushed for the driver’s side door as Aria shoved it open.

Her feet had barely hit the ground before Clara had her in a hug. The two of them held on to one another as August crashed into their sides.

And I stood back, watching.

I wanted to be in that hug. I wanted to be included. Where had that longing come from? It niggled but I shoved it away. When had I turned into such a damn sap? Carmichaels didn’t hug.

Aria let Clara go and turned my way. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I cleared my throat. “You’re late.”

The woman had the gall to laugh. Then she slammed the door shut on the U-Haul and moseyed my way. Her dark hair was lighter than it had been at Christmas. She’d added streaks of a dark blond that highlighted the flecks of gold in her eyes. The dark circles under her eyes were gone. The rosy color in her cheeks matched the pink pout of her mouth.

A surge of lust shot straight to my groin. Fuck. This was not the time.

“Be grumpy later,” she said, patting my stomach as she marched past me for the house. “We have work to do.”