by Sosie Frost
I ripped the envelope in half and tossed the pieces on the porch. “Drop it.”
“Not until I have my son.”
“He’s not your son.”
Victoria thought she could argue with me. “Only because you won’t let me be a part of his life.”
“You chose not to be a part of his life.”
“I was young and foolish,” she said.
Like it made any damn difference. “But now you’re older and broke.”
“I’m going to fight until I get rights to my son.”
“You want to see your son?” I was done playing. “Fine. Follow me.”
Victoria smiled like she’d won some great victory just stepping into my house. She claimed the chaise lounge in my living room. Elle’s chosen throne. I said nothing. Didn’t yell. Didn’t get mad.
I brought her the photo albums Mom had put together. The ones from when Bast was little.
“Let’s see what the kid’s been up to.” I opened the first album. “Here’s Sebastian on the day he was born. You probably never saw him in the incubator or on the oxygen. Remember? Because you told the nurses you never wanted to see the brat. You wanted the nightmare to be over.”
Victoria stiffened. “Lachlan, I had just given birth.”
“That doesn’t excuse you. Look at him.” I pointed to the picture of my premature son. “Sick and underweight, because you refused to eat towards the end of the pregnancy. You didn’t want to show.”
“I was a teenager.” Victoria slammed the album shut. “I was scared.”
“Yeah? So was I.” I opened the next album, lingering on a picture of me holding Bast when we finally got home. “Here’s his crib. I had it in my room so I could switch off with my Mom on feedings and changings. This was his first bath. He peed all over me, but Mom said I did the same thing to her during my first bath. Here’s him in his bouncer—he loved that fucking thing. Cried like a banshee the day it broke. Mom and I had to search the couch cushions and in the seat of the car to scrape together enough money to buy a new one.”
“What’s your point, Lachlan?”
“The point? The point is that here…” I showed her a picture of my smiling, exhausted mother bouncing a three-month-old on her hip. “This is his mother. This is the woman who raised him. Who fed him. Who changed him, swaddled him, sacrificed her sleep, her time, her life to raise a baby that wasn’t hers. He was happy and healthy because of the work she did.”
“I’m not here to apologize for the past,” she said.
“Wouldn’t forgive you if you tried.” I grinned and flipped the album to when Bast was a bit older. “We took this when he said his first word. Know what it was?”
Victoria scowled. “Momma?”
“Lockin. I was his first word. That was the greatest moment of my life.”
I flipped the pages, proudly displaying picture after picture of Sebastian’s smiling face. Elle could have framed him better or used brighter lighting or posed him just right, but nothing was as beautiful as his smile, even taken on grainy cell phones and disposable cameras.
“His first steps,” I said. “His second Christmas. His third birthday. Everything.”
“Our child is beautiful.”
“No. He’s not our child. You’re not his mother. That’s the way it stays. I won’t let you confuse him, and I won’t let you get anywhere close to him.”
“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” she said.
I slammed the book on the coffee table. She jumped.
“Bullshit. You’re trying to get money.”
“You’re being absurd.”
“Why else would you wait until I signed with a professional football team to decide you wanted to play mommy? You’re looking for an easy way to get paid, and you’d ruin a little boy’s life to do it.”
“He deserves to know his mother.”
I lowered my voice, growling the threat. “You want to fight me on it? Fine. Sue me. Then you’ll be front and center to all the money you’ll never get.” I leaned over the chair, inches from her face. “I will spend every last cent to my name on the best goddamned family practice attorneys in the country. You will never take him from us. I will make it so that Sebastian never even knows your name.”
Victoria swallowed, her confidence breaking.
“Maybe he’ll never know that I’m his father…but I will do everything in my power to protect my son.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Never. Not when it came to Bast. “Do you even want him?”
“Do you?”
“More than anything in this fucking world.” I towered over her. “I love him, and if you loved him too, you’d give him up.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’re gonna see a different side of me. Something ugly. Not nearly as charming. Fair warning.”
Victoria exhaled. She tensed, and I really wasn’t looking forward to pressing any assault charges if she dove for me. But even she had some common sense.
She nodded, her eyes hard. “Fine. Keep the kid, but you’re making a mistake.”
“Made a lot lately—what’s one more if it protects him from you?”
The words she spat were colorful as she slammed the door behind her. I’d have a nice key scratch in my Lexus, but at least I was rid of her.
For all the good it did me.
The adrenaline rushed through me. Drowning me. Aching in me. I collapsed on the couch.
For five years, I had never admitted Sebastian was my child. Suddenly, he was all I could think about, the only word on my lips, the one who deserved so much more than I could offer. He didn’t know I was his father, but I’d never forget that he was my son.
The thoughts burned in me. I paced the house. Worked out. Struggled to eat. Sat in the darkness. Nothing helped. Nothing eased that pit in my chest, suffocating me in every passing second.
It was late, well past his bedtime, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my keys and sped through town, running stop signs to make it to Mom’s house before she turned off the lights and went to bed.
I held the key to her front door in my hand, but I didn’t feel right just barging in.
Maybe that was the problem?
I knocked at the door, hard. Mom peeked outside before chastising me under her breath. She wrapped her robe over her pajamas and ushered me inside.
“Lachlan, it’s eleven o’clock at night. What are you doing here?”
“I…I wanted to see him.”
“Again, Lachlan…It’s eleven o’clock. He’s in bed. Like you should be.” She tapped my forehead. “You have three days before your first game. Don’t make me scold a professional football player. Go home. Go to bed.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
“Lord have mercy, Lachlan Maxwell Reed, the things I put up with. Come in.”
I crept into the house. I used to need to step quietly, avoiding the spots on old, rotten floors that creaked loud enough to wake Bast. Mom’s new house was six thousand feet of spacious luxury. The kid couldn’t have woken up unless the skylights collapsed.
Fantastic. Another thing to worry about.
Mom herded me into the kitchen. She dropped me into a seat at the only piece of furniture she refused to throw away—our old kitchen table. It was dwarfed by her massive kitchen—the sort of Italian styled granite masterpiece she’d always wanted. I bought her new appliances, brand new pots and pans, and a high-tech touch screen that controlled the entire house from either the monitor or her iPhone.
Life was so different now, yet when the stress wore us down, she still kept the Oreos in the top cabinet. I retrieved the snack that kept us awake during the colic, teethings, bouts of colds, flus, ear infections…
Mom passed me a glass of milk and sat beside me.
“What’s going on, Lachlan?”
It would have been less pathetic to run back to my mother, upset and crying. Instead I faced her like a man, one bound
to disappoint her again.
“You know…” I crumbled the cookie to dust. “I never thanked you. For everything.”
“You’re here at eleven o’clock at night to thank me?” She stifled a yawn. “Son, a text would have sufficed.”
“No, I mean…” The cookie dust tumbled everywhere. Mom sighed. I didn’t let her clean it up. “Thank you. For what you did. Taking in Sebastian. Packing everything up and traveling to another state so you could be close to me in college. Cheering me on. You’re the reason I got where I am.”
Mom had gotten older, and more than a few of the greys in her hair were my fault. Still, she squeezed my face in her hands and smiled, as bright as ever.
“It’s nothing a mother wouldn’t have done for her son.” She tapped my nose. “It’s what any parent would do for their son.”
“I wish I had done more.”
She rapped on the kitchen wall. “I think you’ve done more than you realize.”
“It’ll never be enough. I didn’t do this right. I never should have given him up.”
“I know it’s hard for you to see, especially after all our dreams have come true, but we did it, Lachlan. The hard work and harder decisions paid off.”
She gestured to the multitude of Ironfield Rivets trinkets, magnets, and various memorabilia scattered around the kitchen. Her collection was starting to rival Elle’s.
“You’re a professional football player,” she said. “Don’t believe what the media says, and don’t you dare get discouraged. Achieving your goal isn’t frightening. What’s scary is holding onto it, worrying that somehow, someway, you’ll lose it all. But this is your success, Lachlan. Embrace it.”
“It’s not mine,” I said. “It’s yours and Bast’s. I had to get here. I had to make it.
Mom sighed. “It wasn’t a mistake for you to keep living your life. It was the only way to give Bast the life he deserves.”
“I want to do more than just give you money.”
“Neither Sebastian nor I ever wanted money from you. He just wants you. You don’t even realize how much he idolizes you. You’re everything to him. No, he doesn’t call you Daddy, but he knows how much he is loved.”
My chest tightened. “I should have been more involved.”
“The door was never shut. You have every right to be here as much as you like. He’s getting older now, and he’s going to need you more and more.”
I rubbed my neck. The tension was practically crushing me. One good clip from a linebacker and I wouldn’t have to worry about getting cut—I’d be killed.
“Should I…” I swallowed. “Should I tell him I’m his father?”
“That’s up to you,” she said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You’re asking if you should confuse a five-year-old boy to ease your conscience?”
“That’s not…”
“Will it make any difference if you tell him? Can you love him any more if he knew the truth? Would it make his life any easier, any better?”
I didn’t have to think about it. “No. There’s no way I could love him more.”
“Then you have your answer, for now, while he’s little.”
And when he got older? When he learned the truth? He’d be upset. Mad. Betrayed.
But he’d never be able to say I wasn’t there to help him.
Mom touched my cheek. “I am so proud of the man you’ve become.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Why?”
Christ. If I didn’t say it, the stress would probably pop an artery. “Elle’s pregnant.”
Mom’s reaction to this pregnancy was better than her last. She reached for an Oreo to eat instead of the nearest newspaper to beat me with.
“Well…” The cookie lowered. She cleared her throat. “You are apparently…very virile, son.”
“Science could study me.”
“I really rather they don’t.”
I stared at my hands. “I’m in love with her.”
“That’s an improvement over the last time.”
“And I’m going to take care of her.”
“You’re already married,” she said. “Ahead of the game.”
She was joking, but I didn’t laugh. My chest tightened, and I had no idea if I could speak the words.
“How can I do this?” I whispered. “How can I have this baby myself, raise him, live with him, be an actual father to him? What about Bast? Doesn’t he deserve the same?”
Mom took my hand. “Are you going to forget about Bast?”
“No.”
“Will you ever turn your back on him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then I’m going to tell you a secret, Lachlan. Something you might not realize yet.” Mom smiled, gentle and honest. “There is enough love in your heart for Sebastian, for this baby, for Elle, and for any other children you may sire…which might one day become an exponential number.”
“I’ll try to keep the count to one hand.”
“It’s not possible for you to run out of love for this family. The single hardest lesson for any parent isn’t selflessness—it’s sacrifice. It’s giving more of yourself than you think is possible…and putting your child’s needs first when you can’t do enough. Because of you, Bast has a great life, a wonderful home, and a bright future. That’s what it means to be a father, and you’ll be a great one…for both of your children.”
She offered me a cookie. I needed more than that. I glanced down the hall.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“He’s sleeping.”
“Is it okay if I crash here?”
“You bought this house, Lachlan.”
“But it’s yours.”
Mom shook her head. “Fine. Then as long as it’s my house, you never have to ask to stay here.”
I knew better than to fight her, or to avoid the dozen kisses she layered on my face and cheeks. I apologized for keeping her up late before taking the steps upstairs.
Bast’s new room was larger than our old family room. I hadn’t come close to filling it with enough stuff—clothes, toys, posters of me on his wall.
He slept, somehow. The light from the doorway silhouetted either his head or his ass, I wasn’t sure how the hell he fell asleep twisted up, pillows astray. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my keys and phone on his desk. He didn’t appreciate me tucking him into the bed or grazing a hand on his cheek.
“Lachlan…” He was grumpy. “I’m sleeping.”
“Yeah, me too. Scooch your butt, Bast.”
His words slurred. “Sebastian...”
“Shut up. Get over here.” I curled an arm around him and snuggled him in close. That earned a kick in the knee as he shifted, but he didn’t mind the cuddle. “You make me think you hate your name.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Want another one?”
“Can’t do that.”
“I’m your…” I swallowed. “I named you the first time. I can name you again if I want. Change it every week if you give me any lip.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I can call you Rachel or Diana. How about Mildred?” I hummed. “Maybe something fun—how’s Peanut Butter Reed sound?”
“I don’t wanna be a sandwich.” That woke him up. He turned to squint at me, confused. “You’re sleeping here?”
“Yeah.”
“But this is my bed.”
I poked him. “You sleep in my bed all the time, little man. Payback’s a bit—pain.”
“You’re weird.”
I grinned, kissing his head. “And you’re perfect…even if you get morning breath before midnight.”
He turned to breathe in my face. “Is it b-a-d?”
The little shit. “What’s Mom been feeding you? Garlic soup?”
“Stinky shoes.”
“Moldy pasta?”
“Skunk tails!”
“Some of her cooking tastes like that.”
> Sebastian laughed. “But yours is the worst. At least Mom doesn’t catch on fire making sketti.”
I tickled him. “You’re right. Maybe I should take you to your favorite restaurant tomorrow?”
He got excited. “McDonalds?”
“You’re a cheaper date than Elle.” I tugged him closer. “Can I tell you a secret, little man?”
“Yeah?”
“I love ya.”
He groaned.
“What?” I tickled him again. “That’s supposed to be a compliment.”
“I know you love me. That’s not a secret. I thought it was something good.”
“It is something good. Don’t you love me too?”
“Yeah. I love you, Lachlan.”
He’d never know what a blessing it was to hear that until he had a boy of his own. Someone to watch over. Someone he’d work every day to impress, help, and protect.
I had a family to take care of and a wife who deserved more than an apology.
In an instant, I knew exactly what I had to do, how I could fix everything with Elle, save our careers, and end the Rivets’ cheating once and for all.
But first I had to swallow my pride and ask for help.
23
Lachlan
It was the first time I came to a team meeting without any pastries or hauling any equipment.
But this meeting wasn’t at the field, and I called only the men I trusted—Jack and Cole.
…And their wives.
Piper didn’t count. She was my agent—and severely regretting her decision to take me on.
And Leah was as much a part of the team as Jack. Without her PR agency and constant charity work, after-school programs, and coordinated YouTube channel with Elle, the less respectable men on the Rivets would have been chased from the league years ago…including her husband.
I invited both families to my house—as neutral a location as I could manage at six o’clock in the morning. I had to meet them before practice, but texting them at midnight the night before hadn’t made me very popular.
Piper was the first to scold me. “Do you know how hard it is to find a sitter before the sun rises?” She pointed to a particularly unfortunate banana stain on her white blouse. “Toddler tantrum. Before the sun rises, my baby is more of a beast than Cole.”
