Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 88

"No. Did you know you're the sexiest work of art to ever exist?" I grind out.

Do you have any fucking idea how impossible it'll be to let you go?

Thank God I still have enough wits to not ask her that.

The smile that curves her mouth ignites her eyes to gold.

If I had a superpower, I'd hit pause. I'd freeze time so I never had to stop seeing her smile like this.

"It's been a pretty amazing weekend. I'll give you that," she says.

Reluctantly, I roll off her and hit the stone patio under us with a grunt. I lie there for a solid minute before I have the bones to grab a towel and help her clean up.

"You know what?" I tell her as we head back inside and flop down on the bed together. She snuggles right up to me like she was made to fit in the curve of my body. "There's no rule that says this has to stop once we climb on the jet home. Nothing besides the stupid little handshake agreement we made up."

"What do you mean?" She stares at me intently. "Patton Rory, are you second-guessing?"

"What do you think, Salem? I'm not second-guessing shit. I've made a decision. This thing we're doing now that's better than any high. The kissing, the sex, the pretend dating—it doesn't have to end. I don't want to put a pin in it. Yeah, I know you've got Arlo to think about and you'll be happy to get home, but I just—"

"It doesn't have to end," she echoes roughly.

It's my turn to stare while her eyes glow like gold discs.

"If you're cool with this evolving… so am I. But there's something you should really know first." She twists around to face me, suddenly twisting the covers around herself protectively, her eyes too wide and glistening.

All the peace and contentment that was there seconds ago has shattered.

I don't understand.

"What is it, Lady Bug? What's wrong?"

"Arlo, that's what." She hesitates, clearing her throat. "He's—he's your son. Arlo's your son, Patton."

What. The. Fuck.

My heart damn near rips through my chest like an alien monster as she twists around to hide her face.

There's no way. It doesn't add up.

Salem Hopper, one-night stand from six years ago. And Arlo, he's her five-year-old kid with lightning blue eyes and dark hair and an endless appetite for shit-stirring.

Arlo, he's— Oh, fuck.

He's mine.

SALEM

Have you ever fallen down the stairs?

He rolls off the bed and stumbles back outside, toward the pool. I think he needs oxygen, and I can't blame him.

I follow timidly, half-afraid he'll walk right into the water and drown. I shouldn't have let this long weekend go to my head.

Shouldn't have let him steal my heart a second time. Shouldn't have flipping told him.

I'm breathless as he stops and whirls around to face me before he reaches the pool. In the darkness, I can't make out his features beyond the fact that he's pale, his eyes too dark.

"Arlo," he says hoarsely. "My son? My son?"

There's nothing good in his tone, just horror, heartbreak, fear.

You shouldn't have told him you stupid, stupid idiot!

"Patton… why don't you sit down?" I force out, taking his arm and trying to pull him to the lounger.

He doesn't flinch away, but he won't look at me either. It's like he's just waiting for an explanation I don't have.

"Salem," he rumbles, then stops.

He drops his head into his hands, pressing his long fingers against his face until the skin goes white.

"I just—I thought you might've wondered by now," I say quietly. "Did you ever?"