Gabe

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Emmaline—Emmy, was Ash’s daughter. Ash had a fucking daughter. Ash…

“Three, but my birthday is real soon.” Emmy had to me.

Ash had a three-nearly-four-year-old daughter.

Ash left me almost five years ago.

I’d stopped doing the math on it, stopped tracking how long it had been since she had left me. I did the math then, though. Four years, seven months. Emmy was nearly four, plus nine months of pregnancy.

Fuck.

No.

She wouldn’t.

I tore out of the kitchen and flew through the hallway where I’d found Emmy, past the stairs, and out to the back deck.

Ash was there, standing in the middle of the yard, facing away from me. She looked different, the silhouette of her body more curved than I remembered and her curly blonde hair falling farther down her back. Still, I would have known it was her anywhere.

All around and in front of her, little sparks of light flashed and died away. Fireflies. She was watching them flicker around the yard.

Indian had called Ash firefly since before I knew her. He used to say it was because her smiles weren’t constant given how introverted she was, but when one came out, it was like a light shining out of her.

He wasn’t exaggerating. Not one fucking bit.

For a moment, the image of her transfixed me. I wanted to break out my sketchpad and commit the sight to paper so I would never lose it. I wanted to ink it into my own skin so it would always be with me.

Then, I remembered Emmy.

The rage returned, burning underneath my skin. Storming across the yard, I clenched my hands at my sides. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t be responsible for what might happen if I did.

Just as I got close, Ash looked over her shoulder at me and jumped at the sight. Whether that was because I was not who she was expecting or my fury was clear on my face, I didn’t know. Didn’t really fucking care.

“Is she mine?” I demanded.

“What?”

My heart was beating triple time in my chest. The shock to my system at seeing Ash’s beautiful face again was almost enough to break through the cloud of anger, but not quite.

“Emmy,” I explained. “Is. She. Mine?”

Ash went pale. “How did you—”

“She was out in the hall. Woke up and needed a drink. Funny thing is, she says she’s about to turn four. It’s been just about nine months more than that since you left. So, I’ll ask one last time. Is she my fucking daughter?” I roared.

Ash shrunk back, and answered in a small voice, “I don’t know.”

She…what? “You don’t know?”

Her eyes fell to the ground. “I would have told you if I knew for sure.”

She would have…

Holy. Fuck.

No. Not possible.

A ringing in my ears filled the silence in the yard. Emmy might not be mine. Ash didn’t know for sure who the father was. Ash…Ash slept with someone else. But the timeline…

She fucked someone else right after she left me.

I spent months—fuck, over a year—doing nothing but missing her, trying to find her. I didn’t touch another fucking woman until Ash had been gone for over eighteen months. But she…fuck.

How long did she even wait before letting some other guy in where only I had been?

A week? Two? Couldn’t have been that long if he might be Emmy’s father.

Fuck.

Ash still wasn’t looking at me and that was a really fucking good thing. I couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t see those eyes.

Without another fucking word, I left. I couldn’t be anywhere near her. I couldn’t handle the blow she just dealt.

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