A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle: A Miracle for His Secret Son / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle

Gus retrieved their overnight bags from the boot while Freya opened bi-fold doors, and he followed her into an open-plan living area.

‘Hey, this is beautiful,’ he said, looking around him.

‘Not bad, is it?’ She dumped her purse and keys on a granite topped counter. ‘I manage the gallery, and this flat is part of the deal. Please, take a seat and I’ll make some coffee. Is plunger coffee OK?’

‘Yes, perfect, thanks.’

Gus remained standing, taking in details of the off-white walls, gleaming pale timber floors and large picture windows looking out to the sea.

The place felt perfect for Freya. It was so much like her—close to the beach and decorated simply but beautifully in neutral tones with soft touches of peach or sea-green. The colours were repeated in the watercolours that hung on the walls and there was a wistful elegance about the paintings that made him wonder if they were hers.

Nick was at the fridge and helping himself to a brightly coloured sports drink. ‘What can I have to eat?’

‘The usual,’ Freya told him. Already, she’d filled a kettle and switched it on and was retrieving the makings of a sandwich. She shot Gus a quick apologetic smile. ‘Excuse us for a moment, please.’

‘Of course. You have to feed the hungry beast.’

Nick grinned at him and came to the counter beside his mother, took slices of cheese from a packet and added them to the bread she’d buttered.

‘I hope you’ve washed your hands.’

‘Washed them at the sink just now.’

‘Would you like tomato with this?’

Nick shook his head. ‘Cheese is fine.’ He added an extra slice, then fetched a plate for his sandwich.

They looked so at home, Gus thought. This routine was so familiar to them, and his outsider status washed over him like a physical pain.

As if sensing how he felt, Freya said, ‘What about you, Gus? Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich?’

He smiled. ‘No, thanks. Coffee’s fine.’

Leaning against the counter, plate in hand, Nick munched on his snack. He was still wearing his football gear and Gus saw green smears where he’d landed heavily on the grass, and there was a graze on his knee.

How the hell can this kid be sick? Gus thought. He looks so normal.

It seemed so wrong. So cruel.

‘So has Mum told you all about my global warning?’ the boy asked suddenly, smiling between mouthfuls.

Gus’s stomach took a dive. ‘Yes, it’s rotten luck, but I’m hoping we can turn that around.’

Freya, in the middle of retrieving coffee mugs from an overhead cupboard, appeared to freeze.

‘Awesome,’ said Nick. ‘So do you have O blood, the same as me?’

‘I do.’

‘But Gus still has to have more tests before we can be absolutely sure he’s a perfect match,’ Freya countered.

Nick nodded and looked thoughtful as he chewed again on his sandwich, while the kitchen filled with the smell of coffee.

Across the silence, Gus met Freya’s gaze. She sent him a wobbly smile.

‘If you could help to carry these things, we can make ourselves comfortable,’ she said.

‘Sure.’ Immediately he snapped into action, and they carried the pot and mugs, a milk jug and a plate of pecan cookies to a low coffee table set amidst comfortably grouped squishy armchairs upholstered in cream linen.

‘You want me to hang around?’ Nick asked.

Freya’s throat rippled as she swallowed. ‘Yes, honey, of course. We need to talk to you.’

He came and perched on the arm of one of the chairs, sports drink in one hand, plate with the remains of his sandwich in the other, and he frowned as he watched his mother pour coffee. ‘So did you guys know each other before? When Gus used to live here?’

‘Yes.’ Freya’s voice was a shade too tight.

Nick stared at her and his face sobered. He slid a quick look to Gus, then another glance back to his mother. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything really crazy, are you? Like Gus is my father or something?’

Chapter Five

FREYA almost dropped the coffee pot. It clattered onto the table and Gus was instantly attentive.

‘Did you burn yourself?’

She shook her head. She was too mortified by Nick’s question to worry about the stinging patch of skin on the inside of her wrist. She wished she could think more clearly, wished she could find the right words so that everything made instant sense to Nick. And she wanted to defend Gus.

When she opened her mouth, nothing emerged.

She looked helplessly at Nick, who was watching her and Gus with his lips tightly compressed and a look of anguish in his eyes, as if he wished he could bite back his words.

I have to answer him.

But, as she struggled to find the words, she heard Gus’s voice above the fierce hammering of her heartbeats.

‘That’s exactly right, Nick.’ Gus spoke quietly, calmly. ‘I’ve come here because I’m your father and I’m the best person to help you. I want to help you.’

There…

It was out.

Thank you, Gus. Freya felt relief, but a sense of failure too. She should have been ready for this. She knew exactly what her son was like, knew he was smart and perceptive.

When at last she found her voice, she hurried to make amends for her silence. ‘Gus really wants to help you, darling. We know there could be other donors, but Gus is your best chance for a really good match.’

A bright red tide was creeping up Nick’s neck and into his cheeks. His eyes shimmered with tears.

The sight of his tears tore at Freya’s heart. She felt lost. Totally thrown.