Reunited By Their Secret Son

Finn grinned. ‘Let’s see you walking, shall we? Just bare feet.’

‘He started to walk at fourteen months, and he’s met all his other milestones. I had him treated as soon as we could and I’ve been pedantic about making sure he’s wearing the boots and bars. The staff at Nursery know what to do and snap the bars on every nap time too.’ She looked at the thin plastic boots and the metal bar they snapped into to hold his feet at the correct angle, for over half of his short life, and her heart pinged again. It hadn’t been plain sailing.

‘Well, it’s definitely working. Look, the feet are just a little splayed out and that’s what we want for now. Perfect.’ Well, the guy definitely knew his stuff; she couldn’t fault him on that. Finn lifted Lachie to the floor then he walked to the far end of the room.

Interesting. He definitely favoured his left leg as he walked. A subtle limp he hadn’t had that night. Knowing him, it was a rugby injury; he’d mentioned he played. That had accounted for the body she’d enjoyed so damned much. She watched him now, the way he moved with less finesse but with a body that sung with the benefits of hard-core exercise. Beneath his navy polo shirt she saw the outline of muscles, the hug of short sleeves around impeccable biceps. His perfect backside in those black trousers. Her stomach contracted at the thought of what they’d done in that hotel room, the way he’d treated her with reverence, the way he’d slowly undressed her and caressed her. The taste of him.

She swallowed hard and pushed a rare rush of lust away. She had no right thinking like that. He’d let her down. Let her son down.

She appraised the simple facts; he was a man who knew a lot about keeping a body fit, that was all. A physiotherapy student, he’d said he was, and a rugby player for some club or other; she hadn’t ever followed the sport so it had meant nothing to her.

Knowing him. Well, she didn’t, did she? Not at all. She’d liked him. A lot. They’d clicked. At least she’d thought so.

Turned out they hadn’t. When he didn’t call she’d tried to find him but it was hard to find someone when you didn’t know their surname. She’d Googled. Scoured social media. Even checked out the physiotherapy departments in every Scottish university, but he’d disappeared into thin air and in the end she’d had to give up. The guy really hadn’t wanted to know her at all. Or her child.

His child.

CHAPTER TWO (#u16bdb405-09c5-529d-9a23-a82fef0e6688)

THERE IS NO one else.

Sophie’s words had been going over and over in his head since the consultation yesterday. No ring. No partner. And each time she’d appeared in his brain his gut had jumped at the thought of her being single, then taken a dive as he registered the reality of his situation.

But something was bugging him about the boy and her story, like a jigsaw puzzle piece that didn’t fit. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but her demeanour had been off. She’d been in a hurry to leave. She’d kept the boy close. As if...as if what? As if she didn’t trust Finn with him. Why the hell not?

Shaking his head, he punched the boy’s name into his work computer and waited for Lachie’s file to appear.

‘Hey. Put the work down. It’s past six and I’m parched.’ Ross appeared in the doorway to Finn’s office, briefcase in hand and coat on. ‘Fancy a drink at the Tavern? I’m meeting Greta and some of the gang from here are coming down too.’

Oh-oh, that spelt trouble. ‘It’s not some sort of blind date thing, is it?’

‘You really are dating-shy, aren’t you?’ Ross was all pretend offended as he put his hand on his heart. ‘Would I do that to you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Finn thought back to yesterday’s conversation. ‘Yes. Probably.’

‘I can one hundred per cent assure you that I have not arranged for any single women to be in the vicinity of the bar tonight. Although I can’t vouch for Greta; she’s a different kettle of fish altogether, she’s keen to see you settled. But not tonight, I promise. All I can offer is beer, maybe some greasy chips and a steak pie. Come on. You missed the last team night out.’

Because he’d been new to the job and hadn’t wanted to answer a zillion questions about the accident. But, with a sigh, Finn relented. It was about time he started to extend a hand of friendship to his colleagues. If this new life was going to work out it would have to involve social stuff too. ‘Sure, I’ll come over when I’m done here.’

Ross walked into the office and looked over Finn’s shoulder. ‘Problem?’

Searching for Lachie was veering on the personal and not suitable for work. He’d have to look tomorrow to try to solve the puzzle. ‘No. Just checking I wrote the notes on an extra I saw yesterday.’

Ross squinted at the screen. ‘Ah, little Lachie Harding. Good kid. Mum’s pretty cool too. She’s worked hard with him. I wish every parent was like that. Although she missed her appointment yesterday, which isn’t like her. I wondered if she turned up eventually. You saw them?’

‘Yes. He’s doing fine, but the boots are rubbing. I think he’s getting to the age where he wants what he wants and makes sure everyone knows about it. We talked through some remedies.’ Why he had such an interest in the boy he didn’t want to admit. He certainly couldn’t tell his boss.

I had a one-night stand. I liked her. A lot. I thought there could be something, but then I couldn’t get over my big, fat, broken ego to call her.

He had a sudden thought which made his gut plummet. What was Lachie’s date of birth again? Finn had been too bamboozled seeing her again he hadn’t taken much else in.

Hot damn. The boy was eighteen months old, if he remembered correctly.

Which meant he’d been born... Finn did some maths and inhaled sharply.

They’d used a condom. Hadn’t they?

Of course they had. He always did.

His head started to buzz with questions as he tried to clinically reimagine what they’d done that night. But, since the accident, events from around that time were very hazy.

‘Earth to Finn.’ Ross tapped his foot. ‘Come on, beer awaits. Get a move on.’

‘Sure. I’ll just grab my stuff.’ Finn slung his messenger bag over his shoulder then grabbed his stick and leaned heavily on it to stand up. Ross was just about the only person he could do this in front of, even if it smacked of weakness. When he’d applied for the job he’d had to be upfront about what he was capable of and what he couldn’t do, but Ross had taken him on with no hesitation.

‘Still sore?’ Ross glanced down at Finn’s leg, taking his role as mentor and supporter very seriously.

Finn shrugged as the pain subsided. What he needed was real time off the stump. ‘Just aching after the race. Nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d take a bit of pressure off with this.’ He waved the folding black stick with a carved Maori tiki handle his brother had sent from New Zealand.

‘I thought you hated using it.’

‘I do.’ Because it made him feel less. Made him look different to other guys his age. And yes, he was all for standing up for diversity issues, but it didn’t mean he had to like the fact he only had one leg, or flaunt it, and he definitely never expected to be treated any differently to anyone else. ‘Don’t think for a minute it gives you an excuse to start being nice to me.’

Ross shrugged. ‘Okay. Well, the last one to the pub gets the first round. And if you’re going to be all equal opportunities then I’m not giving you a head start. Better get yer hand in your pocket.’

‘That’s right. Exploit the disabled, why don’t you?’ Finn laughed, glad to be treated as nothing unusual, and hurried after his boss, letting the stick take the strain for once. He’d hide it away in his bag just before they hit the pub.

Edinburgh was starting to thaw after a long cold winter but the air was still tinged with the promise of snow as they stepped outside. Finn inhaled deeply and walked down the ramp to George Street. This was good. Yes. Beers with friends. A little like old times. He smiled to himself...almost the same and yet a million times different.

Worry crept under his skin, pushing aside the smile, as his mind bounced back to Sophie. They’d used a condom. Right?

It couldn’t...he couldn’t...the boy. Surely not?

Not now. Not when he could barely look after himself. Not when this new life of his was hard enough to deal with.

‘Finn?’ A voice from the shadows of the hospital entrance made him jump.

He whirled around, almost losing his footing, but leaned more on the stick to right himself. ‘Hello?’

‘Finn. It’s me, Sophie.’ She stepped out from behind a huge stone pillar. Her eyes were haunted. Her skin completely devoid of colour as her top teeth worried her bottom lip. She had a thick red scarf tied under her chin and tucked into a long dark coat but, despite the layers, she looked frozen through. For the briefest moment he thought about wrapping his arms around her to warm her up. Then he remembered his leg. Remembered he’d let her down by disappearing without a trace and not living up to his promise to call her. The likelihood of her wanting his arms around her was less than zero per cent.

Idiot.

He glanced at Ross up ahead, just about to disappear round a corner and oblivious to Sophie’s presence, thought about calling after him in case she wanted to chat about her son’s issues, but she’d said Finn. Not Ross.

In another life he’d have been flattered to have a beautiful woman accosting him as he stepped out of work, but she’d seen him with his stick and his limp and they had a history. His stomach tightened. Damn. Damn. Damn. Not a great start. But he had a feeling, judging by the way she was looking at him, things were only going to get worse.

‘Hey, there. Are you okay, Sophie? You look...upset.’