Her eyes are still lit up like a kid going to see Santa. She crawls off the bed and makes a mad dash for the book, but I scurry after her. Both of us fall on the floor, trying to get the book away from each other, but we just end up laughing.

“It wasn’t graphic,” she protests. “You should see what’s on my Kindle. This is nothing.”

“No!” I bellow and yank the book free of her grasp.

I stand up and hold it behind my back, glancing at the clock. “Oh, look, the time. You need to get ready for your race.”

She twists her lips up in a pout and darts her eyes to the clock, too. It’s after six. In all honesty, we should get going, and she knows it.

“I’m going to pick up James at his friend’s house and grab something to eat,” she says, walking for the door. “I’ll be back to pick you up in a bit, so be ready. And bring the book!”

She opens the door, walks out, and then quickly spins around. “And let me know if you get to the twenty-four-hundred-dollar-sheets part with his mouth—”

I reach up to cover my ears, but she’s already slammed the door closed.

Chapter 5

Kat . . .

Running my hand down the countertop, I felt the cool, clean surface, no peeling or knife marks from years of using it as a cutting board. I slipped off my sandals to savor the smooth hardwood floors and the way they shone with the sun coming through the kitchen window.

The house was beautiful.

A white two-story with black shutters and a full front- and backyard and garage. Damn you, Jase Caruthers.

He bought me a house.

The grass was a green like I’d only seen in magazines, rich and lush, and when I looked out the window, the view was even more stunning. Just more houses with more of the same, but it was a completely different world to me.

He’d chosen well. He knew what a parent would want for their child.

But I couldn’t take it. He could come in, make demands anytime he wanted, and I could be as trapped by him as I was by Thomas.

So what should I do then? Stay in my crappy house in my crappy neighborhood with Thomas? He didn’t care about me or his son, and tomorrow would be more of the same.

And in a year, still nothing would be different. Fighting to stay afloat while Jared grew up with no more opportunities than I had, and eventually I’d be on to child number three from another failed relationship, simply eating and breathing to exist with no plans and no future, watching my kids repeat the same mistakes.

I looked over at Jared, seeing him crawl across the floor. There was still time. Still time to make his life better before he became old enough to remember all of the bad.

I ran my hands up and down the thighs of my jeans, remembering the pile of overdue bills on the counter at home, the empty refrigerator, the rent we were two months late on, how I was scrounging for everything . . .

That could end right now. And the icing on the cake came when I looked at the deed sent to me in the mail today.

I was the owner, not Jase. He gave me this house with no strings attached. I could kick him out and keep him out. If I wanted.

I shouldn’t take the house.

And upon arriving, I was surprised with the same car I’d refused last week, sitting in the driveway. The keys and a cell phone sat on the kitchen table with no note and only one number in the phone. I’d never had a cell phone, and everything, all at once, felt like dream.

I walked into the living room, already thinking about what it would look like with furniture. Jase had made sure to bring in the necessities. There was a couch, a kitchen table, a few chairs, a bed and a crib, a radio that was currently playing “Cradle of Love,” but he’d left everything else to me.

“What do you see out there?” I smiled wide at Jared, walking over to where he’d pulled himself up to the window.

He couldn’t walk yet, but it wouldn’t be long. I peeled back the curtain, seeing the house next door, and a large maple, full of green leaves—standing between the two houses.

“Pretty cool, huh?” I peered down at him, and he just gazed back up at me with so much curiosity in his eyes. He never made a lot of baby talk, but those eyes always said it all.

And I loved that look of wonder in his face. I wanted to see him climb that tree and have a dog to play with in the yard, and I wanted to see him ride his bike down this street.

And—I hated to admit—I wanted to see Jase walking around this house. Not in his boring, tight-ass suits but in a T-shirt and jeans, coming up behind me and kissing my neck as I made our dinner at the kitchen counter.

I walked to the table and picked up the cell phone he’d left, not knowing what the hell to say to him. He hadn’t called since the night in the kitchen or to see if I got the deed to the house. And judging by the cell phone he left, he was leaving the ball in my court. I didn’t have to do anything.

So why did I want to hear his voice?

I’m a mess, too. His words came back, and I saw that look on his face all over again. The one that said not much made him happy. Like all of this is just a shit preamble to something better.

I dialed the one number in the phone, letting it ring several times as my heart started pounding.

And then I heard his voice.

“Kat?”

A flutter hit my stomach at his quiet and gentle voice, and all of a sudden, I could barely speak. I dropped my head, speaking low. “Hey.”

But he just sat there, not saying anything. All I could hear was his breathing, remember the taste of his lips when he held me the other night.