“The results were positive.” She smiles. “Congr—”

“Say what?” That’s impossible.

“You’re pregnant, Mrs. Lane.”

Those words are still playing on repeat as I pull up to the school to get Everly. It’s still early in the afternoon. After I had left the clinic, there wasn’t a need to go to the pharmacy, and I wasn’t feeling up to running the couple of errands I told Shane I would do before I picked up our daughter at the normal time they get out.

So here I sit, still in a daze. Confused. How on earth am I pregnant? I’ve been on birth control regularly since after Emersyn was born.

Should I really be surprised though? Emersyn was the result of failed birth control. Hell, maybe that should have told me to always use two forms of pregnancy prevention. I figured it was a fluke with her. I figured there was no way it could happen again. Fuck, what are the chances . . .?

If I’m honest with myself, I’m not entirely sure I’m unhappy about this. Shock? Yes. Definitely. But upset or mad? No.

It’s Shane’s baby. That I’m sure of. Blake and I haven’t had sex in months. Shane and I, on the other hand, have been fucking like rabbits for the past two weeks. It’s still early. I don’t feel pregnant. Then again, I never did with Everly either. I was eight weeks along when I even found out about her.

Oh, wow, things should have been different.

I brace my hands on the steering wheel, wrapping my fingers around the leather, letting a big breath of air flow out of my mouth. I don’t want to think about the past. I want the future.

I’ve been a bitch too. And for no reason. I’m over the phone. Sure, it’s ridiculous for a ten-year-old, but I get why he did it—why he needs it. He has lost so much time. Time he’ll never get back, and if knowing where she is helps ease a weight off his chest, then who the fuck am I to say no.

A good girlfriend would have understood his need from the start. A good person wouldn’t have made such a big deal of it. A woman wouldn’t have acted like a fucking child.

Thinking back upon my reaction, I’m embarrassed. I shouldn’t be. It’s Shane. My Shane. My good, understanding, amazing man that loves all my crazy—has always loved my crazy, and will always love my crazy.

I shut the ignition off and get out of the car.

I came straight here to get Everly, so I could get home to tell Shane the news.

I don’t know how he’s going to react. We aren’t married. I’m not even divorced and won’t be for three months. But something tells me he’s going to be happy about this. He would have been happy about Everly even though we were still teenagers. And this is his chance to be a father from the beginning.

The more I think about it, the happier I’m getting.

I pull the glass door open, walking inside and stopping just to the left of the building’s entrance at the secretary’s office.

“Hi,” I say to a young girl. She’s not the normal lady that’s always here. She may even be a high school kid. “I’m here to checkout my daughter.”

She looks up from her phone. Yeah, she has to be a high schooler.

“What’s her teacher’s name?”

“Mrs. Parks.”

“And her name?”

“Everly Lane.”

Her body jerks back a few inches and her eyes do this crazy, confused thing. “I’m pretty sure her dad picked her up half an hour ago I think.” She stands, grabs the clipboard in front of me and scrutinizes the page.

Shane didn’t say he would pick her up. In fact, we discussed me getting her even though he’s off. He wanted to spend a few hours alone with Emersyn. He thinks he needs to bond with her. Which is great and all, but I already know she loves him as much as he loves her.

“Yep.” She says. “It’s right here. He signed her out at 1:10.”

She hands me the clipboard. The last spot, sure enough, has Everly’s name scribbled down, but I don’t have to look at his signature to know who it belongs to. I know that handwriting. I know his handwriting.

I gasp.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Why did Blake check her out? Why does Blake have my daughter? She isn’t his daughter. Oh my God! Where’s my daughter?

“Ma’am?” she calls again, but I don’t have to time to yell or scream for her or whoever let someone that wasn’t her father take her. I removed his name from the list of people allowed to pick her up. The school was very understanding after I explained and showed them the court documentation giving me full custody of her.

I stumble backward, turning and running out of the school.

What purpose could he have had for taking her without my permission? Nothing is adding up. There is no logical answer coming to mind.

I left my purse in the car, which is where my phone is.

Running, I make it to the parking lot and into my car in less than a minute from finding out my daughter wasn’t where I thought she was.

I practically fall into the vehicle, tripping over my feet trying to get in. Once I find my cell, I unlock it, calling him without checking the text message that’s showing up as a pop-up message on the home screen.

No answer. I call again.

Still no answer. What the fuck?

Chills run down my spine as my finger hovers above the text message app. I open it, seeing it’s from him.

Blake: I’m done playing games. Get your ass and my daughter to this address. NOW. 348 N. Brooks Road Collierville TN 38017.

That’s just east of us, outside the city of Memphis.

Why is he there? Why does he have Everly there? Or does he?

What the fuck is going on?

I toss my phone, hearing it land on the floorboard of the passenger seat. I don’t care. I need to find my daughter and get her away from him. My blood is boiling. He’s taken this shit too far. This isn’t a game to me. This is my daughter’s life he is trying to dangle in front of me, trying to scare me.

He’s not going to fucking scare me. All he’s done is fuck with momma bears cub. I see crimson and I’m going to rip that motherfuckers heart out with my bare hands. I’m going to make him wish he never laid eyes on me.

And then . . . then I’m going to do everything in my power to see that he never comes within sight of either of my children. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how many different judges we have to go in front of. I’m not above begging. I’ll beg. I’ll plead. Hell, maybe I’ll even find a way to blackmail one. I’m not above it. Not when it comes to my kids. I’d do anything for my girls. Anything.