“He’s grown,” Blade states blankly, glancing at the boy at your side. He should be almost five. The only reason Blade knows is because it’s been five years since he left you.

He hadn’t expected to see you today. If anything, he never wanted to see you again. The moment you confessed to being pregnant was the moment he knew he’d gotten too close.

There’s that itch, the one that’s telling him to walk away. He’s weak, especially with you. Your son—his only by blood—looks exactly like him.