deserved it, but still, the fact hurt. Not as much as the fear of him sending me away and never hearing his voice again, teasing me. Asking me about my day.
When I opened my eyes again, the tears on my face were dry, and the sun was down. I had fallen asleep. Sitting up, I turned to see the clock beside the bed. I’d slept for two hours. Kiro hadn’t come back to check on me.
I hadn’t unpacked yet, and my boxes weren’t in this room. Would I be leaving tomorrow? I took several deep breaths and reminded myself that Kiro had never been mine. This world had never been mine. I would be OK. I would miss him terribly, but I would recover. I just had to stop wallowing in my pain and deal with this.
I grabbed a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse from my bag and quickly dressed. My face was a mess, so I just washed it and left it free of makeup. Once I had cleaned up all traces of my crying jag, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and headed for the door. I had to find Kiro and talk to him.
I was lost, but then I remembered he had told me to take abunch of right turns, so I did. Sure enough, I was back at the stairs we had come up earlier. They were as elaborate as this house was. It was easy for two men to live in one house this size. Two families could live here and not see each other if they chose not to.
Voices trailed down the hall as I hit the bottom step. A high-pitched female voice surprised me. I started toward the voices but stopped when Kiro yelled, “Fuck that! You’re a lying bitch. Leave the kid and go.”
The kid?
I heard the sound of small feet hitting the wood floor just before something slammed into my legs with a thud. With a startled squeal, I reached out and caught myself by grabbing the wall. Then I looked down to see the most amazing silver-colored eyes looking up at me. The little boy’s dark hair was long enough to be a girl’s, but there was no mistaking he was a boy. He frowned as his little face studied me.
“Don’t tell me to leave! I came here to talk to you, and you’re going to talk to me, you stupid son of a bitch!” the woman yelled.
The little boy’s frown deepened as he looked back down the hall toward the yelling. Was this Kiro’s son? Did he have a kid?
A small hand wrapped around my calf and held on tightly. I watched as the boy slipped his thumb into his mouth and moved closer to me. He was scared. They were yelling right in front of him.
What kind of parents did that? Rock-star parents, apparently. Suddenly, all my pain and fear subsided as my fury at this kid’s parents grew. He was just a baby. He couldn’t be morethan two years old.
I bent down, and the little boy started to move but changed his mind and held his ground. His attempt to be brave was adorable and heartbreaking all at once.
“Hey, I’m Emily. What’s your name?” I asked him, not sure if he was even talking yet.
“Wush,” he whispered.
Rush. Rush Finlay. This was Dean’s son. I had heard about him in the news when he was born. There were pictures of Dean with his infant son all over the Internet. But I hadn’t seen him recently.
So why was Kiro yelling at Rush’s mother?
“It’s nice to meet you, Rush,” I said, just as his mother called Kiro names no little kid should ever hear. Did they even notice that Rush wasn’t in the room anymore?
“Where are you going? Maybe I can come, too,” I suggested. I wasn’t letting this baby out of my sight.
“Daddy home?” It sounded like a question. He was looking for Dean.
“I’m sure he is. We can go find him together,” I said, then held out my arms to see if he was going to trust me enough to hold him.
He came willingly into my arms, and I stood up as he wrapped a small arm around my neck. “Daddy’s woom,” he said, with complete faith that Dean would be in his bedroom. I wasn’t sure where Dean’s bedroom was, nor was I sure that going there unannounced was a good idea.
“Rush! Where did he go? I’m taking him back, you