Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 47

"Salem—"

"Mommy, did you see? Did you see?" Arlo pants as he joins us again. He's losing his hat too so I tuck it back on over his ears. "I went so far this time!"

"I know, sweetie. I was watching. Do you think you can go faster again?"

"Yeah!" His movements are more sluggish as he clambers back on the sled.

I can tell he's getting tired, even though his determination outweighs any cry for rest from his little body. I give him a push and he whoops as he flies down again. We've made our own track in the snow, and his sled falls into its biggest grooves.

"You didn't answer the question," Patton says. "About Archer." "Dude, it's not a big deal." Kind of a lie, but never mind.

"So why are you avoiding it?"

I sigh, folding my arms and facing him, knowing my hair's a rat's nest and I have a red nose worthy of Rudolph. Do we really have to ruin this?

Because if I tell him, I'll make a confession he'll despise me for. Again. "You really want to know? Archer asked how we were getting along. I told him how Arlo drew you as Grumpybutt and you were pretty unhinged over it."

"Unhinged?" He glowers.

"Yeah, and your brother laughed. Because apparently the idea of me messing up so bad on my very first day was hilarious—and so was the thought of you getting pissy over a kid's drawing."

I half expect him to go off.

To explode at me again—to rake me over the coals for being unprofessional, which would be kind of deserved here—but he just blinks at me and inhales slowly.

"That would explain it. Arch never misses a chance to see me eat shit," he says.

"…so you're not mad?"

He glances at me and smiles.

"I'm over it, Salem. Let's just say we got off on the wrong foot and move on." He pulls off his glove then, offering me his hand.

Whoa.

I take it gingerly, ignoring that little pop of static between us.

Of course, it's a strong hand, thick and accustomed to doing harder labor than just working in an office.

Hands tell stories, but I don't know what his are keeping. Or what, as I pull off my glove, he can read in mine.

"Truce?" he asks, wrapping his fingers around mine. The tip of one finger reaches my inner wrist.

It shouldn't feel so intimate, but it does.

They go blasting down the hill together, just like before.

Patton throws one hand up in the air like he's on a roller coaster.

Halfway down, they start losing their balance. At first it's just a wobble. A twitch.

But after a few more feet, they're slamming into the snow. For a second, I'm worried.

But then I hear Arlo laughing hysterically. Patton's deep chuckle fills the air along with him. He's holding my boy, narrowly preventing him from faceplanting into the snow.

Hello, core memory.

I'm sad that I'm the only one who knows just how special it really is. And it's the proof I've been dreading. Patton Rory can handle a child, and that means he can be a dad.

You need to tell him.

Not right away, but sooner or later, he should know.

The thought makes me queasy.

Still, can't ignore it as they walk back up the hill toward me, Patton dragging the sled behind him. I can't unsee what I'm looking at now.