Brendan (The Doherty Mafia Book 4) by Kasey Krane (summer reads TXT) 📗

was still a strange concept to me—that I had somehow managed to make him feel safe. That he was happy to see me. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I couldn’t tear myself away from him. I found myself frozen to the spot, watching him as he slept. There was something about him that looked familiar. At first I thought I was just imagining things, and then I couldn’t rid myself of the idea that I knew this kid.

Not just that I’d met him a few days ago and had developed a fondness for him. This wasn’t even about Rosalie. She wasn’t on my mind in those moments while my brain buzzed.

How did I know this kid? What was so familiar about him?

He had light brown hair and pink cheeks that were covered in a light dusting of freckles. His eyes were closed while he slept, but now when I thought about it—it seemed like I knew those eyes well. They were green and intense. Just like the Doherty’s.

Most of us in the family had the same green eyes. Most of us had freckles when we were kids, but they disappeared slowly as we grew up.

And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I now knew exactly who Davey looked like while he slept.

He looked like me.

I had to sit down when the realization hit me.

I grabbed the chair that was close to the bed and sat down with a thump.

Davey stirred in his sleep and that made me want to leave. Now that I knew the truth, I didn’t want him waking up and finding me there. I didn’t know what I would say to him. How I would react.

It had to be true.

Davey was my son.

Rosalie hadn’t been very clear on exactly how old Davey was. She said he was three and we met at the party four years ago. The math added up.

And she had to have known it was me. That I was the father.

That was why she kept running away, kept pushing me when we met again. She didn’t want me getting close to her son. Our son. She didn’t want me finding out. And why?

Had she already decided I was an unsuitable father?

She knew I couldn’t be one. I couldn’t be a good one.

In the past four years since she found out she was going to give birth to my child—she hadn’t once made an attempt to find me. She had planned on keeping my identity a secret from Davey his whole life. My whole life.

I jumped off the chair with rage.

I was going to storm back into Rosalie’s bedroom and shake her awake. I’d confront her with the truth, force her to tell me exactly why she kept this a secret all these years.

My hands were clenched in fists. I was breathing hard. I could feel the frustration rising up my neck. I stared at Davey still sleeping peacefully in his bed, and all of a sudden, all that anger seemed to fade away.

What would I achieve by confronting Rosalie now?

There was nothing she could tell me that would convince me otherwise. Davey was my son. He was a Doherty. It was a fact.

And I had no idea how to be a father.

I backed away from the bed slowly, almost like there was some kind of invisible G-force surrounding Davey that pushed me backwards. I couldn’t be near him. The idea that I had a son. A living, breathing, talking, laughing child who had my genes inside him was crazy.

Wasn’t my life simpler the way it was before I met Rosalie and Davey?

I didn’t have any liabilities. I didn’t have responsibilities. I had carefully constructed my life to be one without children. What was the point of changing that now?

Clearly, Rosalie knew what she was doing when she decided she would keep me out of it. We were better off that way. I had to hand it to her for being a smart chick. A good mother.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” I whispered as I shut the door behind me.

If that was the last time I saw my son, he would be better off.

Twenty-Three

Rosalie

I woke up and immediately reached for Brendan in bed. I yearned for his warmth and strength. When I opened my eyes, I saw he wasn’t there. Was he making breakfast for us?

It brought a smile to my face—the thought that he could be in my kitchen right then, cooking up a storm. It was exactly what Davey would have wanted. To have breakfast with his new favorite person.

And I knew it was too soon, but I had gotten used to the idea of having Brendan around. Of us spending more time as a family together.

I had panicked the previous night when he told me about what happened to his brother, and how he took all the responsibility on his own shoulders and blamed himself for years.

I wasn’t sure if Brendan would be ready for the responsibility of being a father. I still wasn’t convinced he would be…but would it be so bad if we tried?

What if Brendan stuck around for a while? If Davey and he grew close and I finally mustered up the courage to tell him the truth?

Maybe all we needed was just some time, and when it was right—I would tell him. I didn’t want to fight that feeling anymore. The feeling of wanting him and needing him, of being so happy to see him and Davey together.

Maybe my mom was right and I was the one who was wrong about Brendan. Maybe he would make a great dad. What did I know about great dads and how to spot them?

I put on my clothes in a hurry. I was excited to go to the kitchen and see him. For him to pull me into his arms and kiss me.

I didn’t even care anymore if Davey saw us. No man had been a part of our lives yet, but