CHAOS (Beneath The Secrets Book 1)

Once inside Sofia’s cozy apartment, I switch on the lights and head straight for the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I search for a beer to quench my thirst.

Nothing.

Just a load of kid food. Maybe it’s for the kid she babysits.

I decide to go to the coffee machine and make one for each of us instead.

I have no idea what spooked her. The fact she gave me her keys was a relief to me.

She wants me here. That has to be something, right?

Taking my steaming cup, I sit on the couch, and a spring digs into my ass. It’s another reminder that I need to dig and find out what she spent the money on.

Pulling out my phone, I chuckle, reading the messages from Alexei.

Alexei: Nikolai is pissed at you.

Alexei: I told him to shut up. He’s just jealous you’re getting some.

Alexei: Wait? You are getting some, right? Or did she tell the king of chaos no again?

I quickly type back a reply.

J: I’ll speak to Nikolai tomorrow.

His response comes through instantly.

Alexei: I don’t care about that. You ignored my other question…

J: I don’t kiss and tell.

Putting the cell on the table, I rest my foot on my knee. I have this burning need to protect Sofia. Brody and his gang can’t touch her when she’s with me. I just need to figure out a way to tell her without her freaking out on me.

As the door creaks open, I feel a rush of anticipation and push myself off the couch. With Sofia’s arrival, my heart starts pounding, and I’m immediately drawn to the sight of the little girl in the pink sleepsuit, snugly cradled against Sofia’s neck.

Every time I try to make eye contact with Sofia, she averts her gaze. I blink at her. What the hell is going on here?

With quick, silent steps, she hurries past me towards the door on the right. I can’t drag my eyes away from the little girl’s dark mop of curly hair.

I cautiously follow, my footsteps barely making a sound, and lean against the sturdy frame. I watch as Sofia gently lowers the sleeping baby into the soft padded crib.

“Momma.”

My heart stops.

Sofia has a kid? Who’s is it? Brody’s?

As I back away, my palms become clammy with sweat. The small living room feels suffocating as tension mounts, my restless pacing amplified by the echoing click of the door as Sofia steps in.

She looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Despite my own confusion, an overwhelming desire to hold her close overtakes me, and I rush towards her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight embrace.

She pulls away, her nails digging into her skin as she anxiously picks at the rough edges.

“I need to tell you something, Jax,” she trails off, looking at the floor. I step forward, tipping her chin up with my finger.

“I gathered that, gorgeous. You have a kid?”

She nods.

“Are you worried that will change things between us? Because it won’t.”

She sucks in a shaky breath and I ask the one question I’m dying to know. Because it could change everything, especially with how Brody is acting.

“Is she Brody’s?”

As her face turns pale, she vigorously shakes her head.

“Well, that’s something,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. But she’s still the same color as the fucking wall behind her.

“Sofia? Talk to me. I’m always around kids. It doesn’t bother me. Stop worrying.”

She nervously chews her lip. She links her fingers through mine and leads me back towards the little girl’s door.

Opening it up just a crack, I can see the sleeping baby in her cot. The name Maeve in pink letters on the wall above.

“She’s yours, Jax.”

With a rush of adrenaline, my heart jumps into my throat, leaving me breathless. Am I hearing things?

“Repeat what you just said.” I can barely get my words out.

“Jax, that little girl in there, she’s yours. You are her dad.”

I drop my hand from hers, running my fingers through my hair. I stumble backwards. Dad. I’m her dad.

Those dark curls are now vividly in my mind.

My brain works overtime to do the math, two years ago, nine-ish months after that. She would be just over one.

I’ve missed over an entire fucking year of my daughter’s life.

“Jax, are you okay?” Her voice is hoarse, like she’s about to cry.

I snap my head up. She’s shaking, her eyes welling with tears.

Fuck.

“I-I-Yes. Just give me a second.”

There’s a glass door out onto a small balcony. Sliding the packet of cigarettes out of my pocket, I offer one to Sofia. She holds up her hand and shakes her head.

I have to use a lot of force to push the damn door open. The railing is so close, it could hardly fit two people.

I light the cigarette and let it burn into my lungs before tipping my head back and exhaling. I had to get some air. The last thing I want to do is say something wrong and fuck this up before I even get the chance.

Sofia and my daughter have been living cramped up in here, fuck.

I want to slam my fists against the iron railings, but I stop myself. Somehow. I just got Sofia back in my life. How the hell am I supposed to be a father?

My heart starts to race and I don’t know how to react. I’m furious with myself for letting her go the first time. For missing so much. Yet, I’m petrified.

Everyone around me dies.

What if I can’t protect her? What if me being in her life ruins it, like it does for everyone else? I can’t do that to her.

To either of them.

Taking one last drag, I flick it over the railing. Sofia remains motionless as I step back into the room. I can sense her hesitation to even come near me. I’m messing this up.

“Sofia.”

“Jax.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and it hurts.

Striding towards her, I firmly grasp her face, guiding her attention to meet my gaze.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” I whisper before closing my eyes and resting my forehead against hers.

“Sorry for what?”

“Leaving you to do this all by yourself.”

“We did okay, Jax. She’s a little angel, really.”

I nod, a lump forming in my throat.

“Did you want to stay with me tonight, meet her in the morning?”

The nerves are clear in her tone.

That little nagging voice in my head tells me that they don’t need me. My hands start to shake as I pull her tiny frame against mine. The walls feel as though they’re closing in on me. My chest tightens, and I struggle to take in a breath.

I know what I need to do. What I should do.

I just need some damn air.