The Daddy Secret

“You don’t want him to know who I am?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because... Let’s just say it’s complicated.”

Rick crossed his arms. “How so?”

“I... Well, Gary and Sue were always very honest with him. And when he asked me about his biological father...I... Well, I don’t want him to think that I lied to him.”

“Why would he think that?”

Mallory shifted in her chair. At the time, when he’d asked about his biological dad, she’d given him the kindest, most logical response she could give a child. But in retrospect, she’d made a mistake. She just wasn’t sure how to backpedal at this point without making things worse.

Finally, Rick said, “I hope you didn’t tell him that I didn’t want to marry you. I wanted to, remember? Of course, I now have to admit that your grandfather was right. I didn’t have a dime to my name and probably wouldn’t have been a good husband and father, although I would have tried. But for the record, you were the one who was responsible for losing contact. You stopped taking my calls.”

“You can’t blame me for that. Giving up the baby was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I told you how badly I wanted an open adoption, and you refused to even consider it. In fact, you were adamant. You said that I could either bring the baby home, or leave it in Boston. But if I left it, not to even bother telling you if it was a boy or a girl.”

Rick raked a hand through his hair. “I had a hot temper back then. And I was trying to force your hand. The only reason I didn’t want an open adoption with a kid living in Boston, when I was dirt-poor and living in Texas, was because I’d never see him. So fatherhood was an all-or-nothing thing for me. I figured you’d see motherhood that way, too.”

“I’m sorry, Rick. I didn’t know where you were coming from.”

“You could have asked.”

Maybe she should have. Clamming up had always been his first line of defense, but she’d been too hurt to care about his feelings.

“You know,” he said, “that really sucks, Mal.”

What did? The fact that they’d both been too young, immature and ill-prepared to deal with the kind of situation a pregnancy had caused? To be honest, even now, with her education and maturity, she still felt a little out of her league when parenting a boy who’d lost so much in such a few short years.

“I can’t believe you’d do that,” Rick said.

Apparently, they weren’t both on the same page. “Do what?”

“Let Lucas think that I didn’t want him.”

At that, Mallory leaned forward. “Oh, my gosh, Rick. I’d never tell him something like that. For one thing, that would have crushed him.”

Rick settled back into the sofa cushion as if relieved. Then, almost as quickly, he straightened up again. “Then what did you tell him?”

“I told him—” Mallory paused for a beat, hating to admit it, then pressed on “—that you died.”

Rick’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why in the hell did you tell him that?”

She hadn’t meant to lie, but she’d thought about it over the years. And she’d realized that something innocent and fragile had died inside her when Rick had signed those adoption papers and told her to do whatever she wanted. Then, when she’d had to choose between staying in Boston to be near Lucas or returning to Brighton Valley and Rick, she’d had to bury whatever memories they’d once had—and any hope of a future together.

“At the time it seemed like the easiest way to explain your absence in our lives. Besides, I wasn’t sure what had happened to you. I knew that Joey ran away. And given the rumors I’d heard about the fights you’d been involved in and all the drinking, I’d assumed the same thing had happened to you.” She almost mentioned his uncle’s trial and conviction, but decided to let that ride for now.

Rick stretched his arm out across the back of her sofa. “Listen, Mallory. I’ll admit that I got into a lot of trouble after you left Brighton Valley, but when you didn’t come back home like you said you would and wouldn’t return my calls, I fell into my old habits. In fact, without you in school, I couldn’t see any point in being there, either, so I dropped out before Thanksgiving.”

She ought to feel a bit justified at the anger she’d carried for years, yet a surge of sympathy shot through her instead, urging her to rise up from her chair, and sit next to him, under his outstretched arm... To lean her head against his shoulder, to caress his knee, to offer words of compassion....

What was wrong with her?

Ten years had passed since she’d last seen him, and yet she still found herself struggling with those same old urges, those same yearnings, those same... What? Feelings?

No, not those. Not anymore. She was no longer a foolish and gullible teenager blinded by his charm.

“So you dropped out of school, and that’s my fault?”

Rick’s brow furrowed, and his eye twitched. “Yeah, well, back then, I blamed you.”

“You don’t now?”

“Not for me dropping out of school. That was my own choice, but I rectified it.” Rick placed his hand on the sofa’s armrest, then stood. “I’m going to go before we both say things that would be better left unsaid. But just so you know, I’m going to respect your wishes and keep my true identity under wraps for the time being.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“But don’t take too long figuring out a comfortable way to set him straight.”

“I’ll do my best.” She got to her feet, too. “Thank you for understanding.”

They merely stood there for a moment. Then Rick moved a couple paces forward, reached for her hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze with a firm grip, sending a bevy of goose bumps fluttering up her arms. “You’ve got a week, Mallory.”

Then he released her hand, leaving her in the middle of the living room as he headed for the door.

A week? She wasn’t sure she was following him. “You mean...?”

As he opened the front door, he turned and glanced over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto hers. “You have one week—seven days—to resurrect me.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell Lucas myself.”

Chapter Three

The afternoon sunlight spilled onto the antique oak and brass in the back office when Rick finally got a chance to read the morning paper. It wasn’t often that he could take a break on a workday, but the clinic schedule had been unusually light for a Wednesday.

In fact, he’d even been tempted to let Kara, his vet tech/receptionist, go home early, but the last time he’d done that, a frantic woman with two sobbing kids had rushed in with a six-month-old Queensland Heeler and a year-old lab mix, both of which had gotten into rat poison. The dogs Rick could handle. But trying to calm and reassure the woman and children who were afraid their pets were dying had damn near been his undoing. Kara was so much better equipped to offer comfort than he was, so for that reason alone, Rick hadn’t let her go.

As Fate would have it, nothing unexpected had come up this afternoon. At least, not until Kara approached his open office door.

“Dr. Martinez?”

Rick looked up from the article he’d been reading. “Yes, Kara?”

“That little boy is back. You know, the cute little guy who kind of looks like you?”