I OPENED THE WARDROBE DOORS and inhaled. Her scent hit the core of my heart and I closed my eyes, relishing in the small hit.
My eyes drifted over her clothes, my fingers barely touching but feeling so much.
I missed her so much. So very much.
I physically ached everywhere and the crushing pain in my chest refused to go away, tormenting me in its grief.
Red sat beside the bed and whined. She missed her too.
I frowned and turned to see what she was doing when another whimper came from her. She had her nose stuck under the bed, her front paws trying desperately to dig at something.
Bending beside her, I pushed my hand under and retrieved a large brown envelope.
My heart started to gallop when, in Kloe’s handwriting, I saw ‘Samantha Rowan’ was written on the front.
I pulled out the contents and piled them on the bed beside me.
Her birth certificate. Her name change document. Samantha’s christening certificate. A few documents concerning social services administration.
Picking up another item, my breath left me in one single rush.
A photograph. It was tatty and old, the corners bent and dog-eared.
A little boy and a little girl stood against a wall hand in hand. She wore a floaty summer dress full of pretty pink flowers, and the boy wore shorts and a Star Wars t-shirt. The girl beamed with a huge smile and the little boy’s face was turned straight at the camera, a large smile of his own dominant.
A five-year-old ginger-haired girl. And a three-year-old little blonde boy.
Samantha and Judd.
“Oh my God.”
My thumb stroked over their happy smiles and I smiled with them. To say their childhood had been corrupt, they still took comfort in each other and smiled. Their love even then, was prominent and blinding.
Something prickled my senses and I narrowed my eyes on the photo.
Red barked in surprise when I shot off the bed and ran into the office.
Quickly scanning the photo, I then brought it up larger on the screen.
“Holy shit.”
Something in my head clicked, and I grabbed the photo from the scanner. Turning it over, as if to verify the truth, I read the words on the back.
‘Sam and Judd, aged 5 and 3’
It was definitely Samantha and Judd.
Except the photo of the little boy wasn’t me. Judd had brown eyes and his blonde hair was almost white.
I had piercing green eyes… and a small but significant birth mark on my upper thigh.
The little blonde boy did not.
Had Kloe known all along that I wasn’t Judd Asher? Had she known when she’d walked into that hospital room that I wasn’t the best friend she’d lost so many years ago?
And if I wasn’t Judd, then who the hell was I?
I’d been standing for thirty-eight minutes, staring into the small plastic crib.
My feet wouldn’t move, my heart wouldn’t beat, and my hands shook so hard that I thought I was having a seizure.
“Mr Cain?” A small chubby nurse dipped her face into my line of sight and smiled.
I nodded, quickly glancing at her before I moved my eyes back into the tiny bowl that contained my son.
He was wrapped up tight in a blue blanket. His head full of strawberry blonde hair made my breath catch.
The nurse, quickly sensing my rapidly depleting resolve, gently placed her hand on my arm. “He’s such a good little thing. He’s so very quiet but pulls the funniest faces. We’ve all fallen in love with him.”
Something tugged at my heart. Seemed he took after his mother with the funny faces then.
“Would you like to hold him?”
My lip popped under the pressure of my teeth, but before I could run, I gave a short nod.
She ushered me into a chair so quickly that I knew she was also debating how fast my feet could run.
Within moments my arms were full and the nurse stepped back out of sight.
I froze.
My throat hurt.
And the pain in my chest was fucking torture.
He had such long eyelashes, and they rested on the tops of his cheeks like little sweeping brushes. He was a weight, more than I’d anticipated, and when his eyes slowly opened and tiny green orbs glared straight at me, the pain that had been ever-present in my soul stabbed at my heart. The pain inside me bled out in tears and sobs, the little guy in my arms staring straight at me as if he forced me to feel every bit of agony and despair.
But then he sucked in his bottom lip and blinked.
“So like your bloody mother,” I choked out, trying for anger but only managing a soft smile. His head moved faintly to the side as if he was listening to me, and his hand wriggled out of the blanket cocoon and thrust into my face.
He captured my finger as soon as I touched the wrinkled palm of his hand, and he clamped hold of me as if telling me I couldn’t run anymore.
I wouldn’t run.
I would never run.
“This is gonna be hard,” I whispered as I stared at the perfect creation Kloe had gifted me before finding her peace. “Probably more for me than you.” I chuckled.
I swiped at my tears and sniffed.