Jason.

He thought about telling her that he knew, thought about preventing this whole conversation—sparing himself from it. But didn’t.

Ella had the right to say what she’d come here to say. Had the right to get this closure.

He also knew, without doubt, that he had to give her what she wanted...

“Please, Brett, tell me how you felt.”

She didn’t answer his question. Didn’t tell him why.

But she didn’t owe him that. He owed her.

“I was scared to death,” he said, meeting her gaze in spite of what it cost him. His chest tightened to the point of pain. If he didn’t know better, he’d have considered the possibility that he was having a heart attack.

But Brett knew better. The sensation was all too familiar to him.

And one he’d been having since junior high.

“Of what?”

He drew in air. “Of having someone look up to me, looking to me for example and guidance in matters of life, and me, damaged goods, ruining them. Putting the family curse on them.”

“I was going to be there, too.”

“Yes, but it only takes one person to bring misery to a whole family.”

“You were afraid you were going to be your father.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t be.”

“Because he showed you the way, right? He showed you how a man can be absolutely, completely certain he’d never bring violence into his home and then...he did.”

“Maybe.”

“My father was a great dad, El. A great husband. For well over a decade there’d been no sign...and then, he just snapped.”

“Maybe there were signs. Maybe you were too young to recognize them.”

“I have a lot of memories of me and him when I was a kid. None of them bad.”

“Kids have ways of forgiving things, forgetting them. They adjust. Adapt.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t do the same. And I can’t let that happen. I’d rather be dead than abuse someone. And the thought of creating an abusive streak in another human being...of continuing the pattern...”

“But there’s no guarantee you would do it.” Her words were a cry from the heart. Even he recognized them as such.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why, after we knew you were pregnant, I’d started wandering the house in the middle of the night?”

“You were having trouble sleeping, obviously.”

He hadn’t planned to tell anyone other than the counselor he’d spoken to about that time in his life. About the nightmares that still haunted him when he allowed their memory to surface. Had thought that was a shame he’d carry with him to his grave.

But Ella needed his help. Needed to understand. And her comfort was more important to him than his own. At least these days. He’d grown up a bit since staying with a woman long past the time when he’d known he should get out.

“I was having nightmares, El. Every night. I’d close my eyes and there they’d be, waiting for me...”

He swallowed. Couldn’t meet her gaze.

“What kind of nightmares?” The softness of her voice reached him as surely as if she’d reached out a hand and stroked his cheek.

“I’d dream about things that had really happened. About times my dad had come at me. But in mid-dream his face would change to mine. And the boy in the dream would be my son, and I’d be lifting my hand to hit him. I’d see the fear on his face. And in those eyes, the love he still felt for me. I’d want to stop my hand from coming down, but I just couldn’t. Not ever. Not one single, damned night...”

He looked straight at her as he fell silent. Needing her to know the truth behind his words. The tears in Ella’s eyes weren’t a surprise to him.

“Didn’t you ever have a good dream about him? Something about us together? A family? You said you had good years with your dad.”

“Not one good dream, El.”

She nodded, dislodging the tears that filled her eyes. They dropped to her cheeks. “So...the fear...it was greater than the joy? Greater than the idea of you and me making a baby together?”

She was reaching for her future. He had to help her let go of her past.

“You want the truth?” he asked, knowing that now was the time to give it to her.

“Yes.”

“When I found out you’d lost the baby...my first conscious feeling was...relief. I’d been saved from what I saw as my fate—finding out too late that I was like my father.”

There. Now she knew his dirtiest secret. His darkest shame. He’d felt saved when his child had died before ever being born.

Now she could leave him, the phantom in the cellar.

Brett wasn’t surprised at the horrified pain on Ella’s face. The fresh spate of tears in her eyes. He wasn’t surprised when she stood and left him sitting there, in his beautiful garden, alone.

The only thing that surprised him were her parting words.

“I love you, Brett Ackerman.”

Sad truth was he loved her, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ELLA RAN FOR her car. Got around the block before she pulled over and gushed a river.

For herself. For Brett. And for the precious little child who was just beginning to form in her womb and would never know his or her father.

She’d gone to Brett’s to tell him about the baby.

Chloe was going to know soon. She’d probably think it was Jason’s.

And she’d be happy for Ella.

She couldn’t tell Chloe, or anyone else, the truth without Brett knowing.

She had to tell him. She just hadn’t been able to stay with him another minute.

She’d been sitting there, wishing she belonged. And knowing she never would. Not with Brett.

No one would.

She cried until her stomach cramped and her tongue was dry. Cried for the baby she’d lost. For the life and dreams she’d lost.

And then, when her stomach cramped, she stopped.

She had a child to think about now.

A new life.

Cradling her stomach, she sat there in the darkness and rolled down her window so she could hear the waves in the distance.

She was going to have to move.

It wouldn’t be fair to Brett to have his child grow up right under his nose.

And she owed him. Because he’d done this for her. He’d given her his child.

He couldn’t give her his heart. Or his life.

But he’d given her a piece of himself. A new life.

One that would be a connection between them Brett could never sever.

She just had to get herself under control enough to let him know what he’d done.

* * *

BRETT WAS OUTSIDE, still in his khakis and polo shirt, skimming the pool in the shadows cast by the landscape lighting when he heard his doorbell ring. He glanced up, a bit confused by the sound. In all the years he’d lived there, he’d never had unsolicited visitors and now it was happening a second time.

Still, it wasn’t a summons he could ignore. And when he pulled open the door, he saw Ella standing there, looking exactly as she had when she’d walked out of his home an hour before except for her tear-ravaged face.

“I have to talk to you,” she said, stepping forward so he had to either let her in or block her. He stepped back.

“El, I’m so sorry...” The words stuck in his throat. It was closing in on him. He’d sworn he was done hurting her. And he was doing it all over again.

With a wave of her hand she dismissed his apology. And anything else he might say.

“I came here today to tell you something. But I had to understand the past first, and then that got in my way.”

She walked toward the kitchen, but before he could follow her she was on her way back to him. Looking at the floor. Not him.

“I know you don’t want this, but I still have to tell you. Brett, I’m pregnant.”

He was busy watching her pace, trying to get a good look at her face so he could figure out if she was pissed or beside herself with pain. It took an extra second for her words to register. She’d come to tell him she was pregnant?

Dear God, don’t let it be true.