Jonathan's POV
From childhood, I mastered the art of knowing precisely when to step into the spotlight and when to vanish completely from view.
So when they dragged Savannah away, I was already hauling the kid toward my car and shoving him into the backseat. The acrid taste of betrayal burned so deep in my throat I wondered if it would leave permanent scars.
The kid curled into himself, soft whimpers escaping despite his efforts to stay quiet.
"Stop crying!" The words exploded from me with more venom than intended.
With Savannah gone, I had no obligation to pretend I cared about playing father to him. But it wasn't duty or boredom that made me snap at the boy. He missed his mother, and damn it, so did I. What the hell possessed Savannah to scream like that in front of everyone?
