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been all over the map. Excitement and the thrill of imagining herself in his arms gave way to a very real, very consuming fear. She hadn’t told him about the boy. Now that he was getting out, she had no choice. He’d find out one way or another, and the longer she waited, the angrier he’d be. Rip couldn’t really blame her for not telling him sooner. The two of them barely saw each other over the past five years, and as for her little boy—she tried not to think about him. Only on his birthday in September and a few other times each month when her heart raced ahead of her.
    She reached over and rifled through her purse again. A piece of gum, that’s what she needed. When she knew Rip was coming home, she’d hidden her smokes in a box in the garage. But now she was going crazy without them. Her fingers brushed against a sticky ballpoint pen and a wad of tissue paper, and then finally what she was looking for. A broken stick of peppermint Eclipse. She brushed off a layer of lint and popped the gum between her lips.
    She hadn’t planned to ever tell Rip about the boy. It wasn’t any of his business. She’d had the baby at the beginning of his prison sentence, after all—a sentence that kept Rip in the slammer for five years. There were reasons why she gave the boy up, why she found a nice family and turned him over. But part of it was a matter of being practical. She had to work two jobs to pay the bills, right? How would she do all that and raise a baby by herself?
    She found out about the baby the week after Rip was locked up. Rotten luck, nothing but rotten luck. She didn’t visit Rip after her fifth month of pregnancy, not until she had her shape back and the baby was safe in his new home. Rip never suspected a thing. But the baby was his, that much she was sure about. The other men didn’t come into the picture until the second year of his term.
    The traffic grew heavier. She switched lanes again. The truth was, she’d almost done it, almost kept the boy. She didn’t sign the paperwork until after she had him and held him and—
    She blinked and the memory stopped short. There was no going back, no such thing as what might’ve been. What she did that day, she did for her baby, her son. He deserved more than round-the-clock day care and a father in prison for domestic violence. She picked the family, after all. They were perfect for her baby, willing to give him the life he could never have had with her and Rip.
    But more than that, her decision was ultimately based on one simple fact. She couldn’t tolerate seeing her little boy hurt. And if Rip got out and fell into one of his rages . . . Wendy shuddered and took tighter hold of the wheel. A man with a temper like Rip’s had a heap of changing to do before he could be any kind of father. It didn’t matter now. She’d signed both their names on the adoption papers and never looked back.
    Almost never.
    Tears stung her eyes and she cursed herself for being weak. The boy was better off, no question. What she’d done by giving him up made her the best mother in the world. Period. She drew a quick breath and dabbed her fingers along her upper cheeks. “Enough.”
    Her focus had to be on Rip now, and whether the two of them had anything left after five years of being apart. Had he gotten help for his temper, or maybe found Jesus? Or had the guys he ran with made him meaner? This was his second time in prison. Last time he came back showering apologies and sweet nothings, and he was hitting her again by the end of the week. Still, she loved him. Loved him and pined for him and wanted him back in the worst way.
    So maybe this time would be different. Wendy worked her gum, demanding what was left of the peppermint. Rip had sounded nice enough on the phone. Maybe he really had changed, and this time things would be better between them. He’d come home and give up the anger and shouting and hitting, and turn into the kind gentleman she had always known was