Decision (Diversion Book 8)

by Eden Winters

  He’d met men in prison who’d shuffled from one foster home to another as kids, and wound up on the streets, in gangs, or on drugs. Kids needed a good start in life, lots of love, safety. Surrounded by supportive family.

  Lucky spent too many years alone, wishing for his family. He’d gotten his wish, in Bo and in the return of the Lucklighters.

  Andro didn’t ask to be brought into this world and abandoned. Something clicked into place in Lucky’s heart, and he knew, knew what he had to do.

  Before he could stop the words, out tumbled, “We can always adopt him, right?” Damn. Too fast, way too fucking fast. Too fast, but also right.

  Bo blew out a breath. “We don’t have to.” Tears glittered in his eyes. “Lucky, she named me as the father. My name’s on his birth certificate. His name is Alejandro Gualterio Schollenberger.”

  “What the hell? You know a DNA test would show the truth.” He’d call Cruz, stop him from crossing the border, get Yolanda back here, and make things right. Hell, when he asked the man to make arrangements for Graciela to take care of the mother, he hadn’t meant so soon. Or had she left with someone else? Had the bosses found her?

  Voice so low Lucky strained to hear, Bo said, “Only if I contest it.” He flumped down onto the couch, shoving his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time. Three more good swipes and Lucky’d lay odds on pattern baldness. “I know it’s paternity fraud, and I’ve been agonizing over this ever since I found out. But Lucky”—he grasped one of Lucky’s hands in his, staring up with sad eyes—“if I contest it, he’ll wind up in the system, alone and unwanted. The little guy’s got a rough road ahead of him as it is. I… I can’t abandon him.”

  No, Bo couldn’t. Bo wouldn’t be Bo without the big heart.

  “I’ve been trying to be a good person, make up for my mistakes, but sometimes, doing what’s right is more important than following the rules. Yolanda has no family, the father is long gone, so there’s no one to contest. If anyone we know asks, I’ll tell them the mother was a surrogate and the baby is mine. Only…” He searched Lucky’s face. “I have to have you with me on this. This decision changes our lives forever. Yours and mine. But I need to do this. Even more, I need to know you’re with me.”

  The day so didn’t turn out the way Lucky thought when he climbed out of bed this morning. He’d woken up to Bo and lots of plans for the future.

  He’d go to bed with so much more planning to do. This whole situation was fucked up on so many levels. On the one hand, what Bo planned wasn’t legal. On the other, it was the morally right thing to do. Bo wanted a son, and a son needed a father.

  Right now, though, Bo let his heart call the shots. Who’d have ever thought Lucky would have to be the voice of reason?

  “Bo, the mother is a human trafficking victim. Allowing people to believe you’re the father might come across as you taking advantage of a woman in dire straits, no matter that we know the truth. Are you prepared for that kind of shit to hit the fan? The rest of the victims are being helped by anti-trafficking groups. If they so much as hear a word about this…” Lucky didn’t know the consequences, but there’d damn sure be some.

  Bo wrapped his arms around his waist, retreating into himself. Running, just like he used to from problems, though his feet remained still. “You’re against this.”

  “No, I’m not, but right now you’re letting your heart rule your head. That’s not like you. Normally you’re quoting textbooks at me.” He’d need to do some research.

  And possibly call Cruz. How the hell had he wound up needing Cruz?

  No matter what the cost, he’d find a way to protect the man he loved, and the child who needed them.

  ***

  Lucky stood on the back deck, checking over his shoulder to ensure no one got nosy about his whereabouts before making his phone call.

  “Cruz,” a gruff voice answered. Sounded like Lucky woke someone up. Good. Served the fucker right for not calling.

  “Yolanda left the hospital. Please tell me she’s with you.”

  “She was. She’s on her way to the safest place I know.”

  “Where?”

  “Vaya Hermosa, to stay with Abuela Graciela.”

  Oh, thank God! Yes, safest place. “Why the hell did you take her so soon?”

  “I wasn’t the only one looking for her. For her safety, and her child’s, she needed out of the hospital. Too easy for them to find her there.”

  “And she’s okay.”

  “She will be.”

  “Did she tell you she put Bo’s name on the birth certificate as the father?”

  For a moment Cruz stayed silent. “No, she didn’t, but I have to admit it’s a pretty smart move. If he doesn’t fight it. She wanted a good home for the baby. I agree with her choice. And anyone looking for her won’t try to get to her through the child, if a drug agent stands in the way.”

  Cruz fully understood the nature of Bo and Lucky’s relationship, so if he approved of Bo…

  Words barely a murmur, Cruz said, “You’ll both make good fathers. Tell me the two of you will keep the baby. If you don’t want him, I’ll do what I can, but—”

  But no promises. Fuck. “Bo wants to, but how will that look? Like Bo taking advantage of a victimized woman. He’s already debating whether or not to contest the claim. There’s a big-assed moral issue here.”

  “He won’t contest.” Cruz sounded so sure. “As for the details, you have powerful friends. ‘Nuff said.”

  In this case, chalking up another debt to Nestor Sauceda might be worth the risk.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Bo stopped further conversation by being asleep when Lucky went to bed. Or if he wasn’t actually asleep, he certainly put on a good show, sprawled out, snoring.

  Lucky shifted Bo’s leg over to give himself room to get under the covers, then laid Bo’s arm over his chest. Just because Bo slept didn’t mean Lucky didn’t want to touch him.

  He lay in the dark, the ceiling fan paddles spinning in lazy circles over his head. How many times had he stared at those rotating blades, unable to sleep while puzzling out what to do?

  A lie. A big, fucking kind of lie he’d expect to see on South Bend Springs.

  If they went through with the plan Yolanda set into motion, Bo would be taking a child that wasn’t his. If they didn’t, the poor kid might spend the next eighteen years in foster care. Over the years Lucky had witnessed kids thrown into the system, to be tossed out at age eighteen.

  Eighteen was too damned young to be out on their own, and many wound up in trouble, or victims of predators.

  Or, like the men he’d met in prison, they lost their way in life without guidance.

  Alejandro wouldn’t be a statistic. He’d grow up in a loving home, given all he needed and taught how to get along in the world. If he needed surgery, he’d get surgery, with worried parents hovering over his bedside while he recovered.

  Birthdays, Christmases, happy childish laughter.

  Well, damn. Too many times in the past, rushing into situations without weighing all sides led to trouble. Lucky had pretty much made up his mind earlier, and thinking things through logically didn’t change his opinion.

  Two fathers, an aunt, cousins, and a whole lot of other people would love the kid too. The loving group who should have been there eagerly awaiting his birth. There might be hell to pay, but some things were worth fighting for. The path ahead wouldn’t be easy. No one promised him easy. And he’d rather be up Shit Creek without a paddle and have Bo at his back than be with anyone else anywhere.

  He owed the same to his partner. No, his husband, though they’d not made any public vows. They didn’t need to. They made vows to each other every single day, with actions, not words.

  “Lucky? You awake?” Bo murmured through a yawn.

  No use lying. “Yeah. Got too much on my mind to sleep.”

  Bo shot upright in the bed, nearly taking half of Lucky’s chest hair from his arm being sweat-pla
stered to Lucky’s pecs, and turned on the bedside lamp. “I’m sorry to bring you into this. I mean, if we do the right thing, we’ll break the law, and if we do what the law says, we’re risking—”

  Lucky blew out a breath, pulled Bo down, and shut him up with a kiss.

  “Mmmmmphhhh!”

  Lucky kissed Bo until he stopped trying to talk. “Bo.”

  “But Lucky…”

  A hand over the mouth gave Lucky a chance to get a few words in. “Bo, do you want this kid?”

  Eyes impossibly wide, Bo slowly nodded.

  Lucky dropped his hand.

  “But we…”

  Amazing how fast Lucky replaced his hand. He sat up, putting himself nose to nose with the most wonderful person in the universe. “Bo, you had my support without even asking. It took a little bit to sink into my hard noggin. It’s a lot to take in, ya know?” Lucky planted a kiss on Bo’s nose. Yes, this was the right thing to do. The only possible choice. Already the heavy iron weight in his chest lifted. Lucky’s heart never felt this light before when he considered breaking laws—or bending them. “Now, what does Guatero mean?”

  Bo “mmmphed” and Lucky removed his hand.

  “Gualterio.” Bo gave Lucky a wavering smile. “It’s the Spanish equivalent of Walter. Yolanda wanted to give Andro a middle name. Asked me to pick one. I immediately thought of Walter. I had no idea what she intended at the time.”

  Good choice. Walter would be over the moon.

  “I just wish I knew what happened to her. I mean, she left without even telling me goodbye.” Bo twisted his fingers together in his lap—a lap barely covered by a thin cotton sheet. “Is she okay? Did she leave with someone? I’m worried.”

  “Bo?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I talked to Cruz. He took her to Valle Hermoso. Graciela will take good care of her. I just didn’t know he’d have to work so fast. The men who exploited her were closing in. I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to risk pissing off Nestor or Victor to go after her there.”

  Bo’s eyes widened. He barked out a relieved-sounding laugh. “Graciela? Really? Yes, she will be in good hands. Better yet, we know where she is and can check in with her from time to time.”

  “Yep.” Though how much contact the woman wanted with the reminder of her past was yet to be seen.

  “And you called him? Arranged this?”

  Heat crept up Lucky’s face. “Yeah. She wanted to go back to Mexico, and Graciela strikes me as a woman who always has room for one more in her heart.”

  Bo stared a Lucky a long moment. “I know you’ll think I’m ruining your reputation with this, but Lucky, you are one hell of a good man.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Shhh…” Bo placed his fingers over Lucky’s lips. Lucky kissed them. “Your secret is safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me.” He sealed his words with a kiss.

  The moment Lucky’s cock started getting ideas, Bo pulled back. “Since he’s my son, my insurance will cover Andro’s medical bills.” He darted a glance toward the empty nursery and back to Lucky. “There’s so much to do! We’ll need furniture, clothes, diapers, formula.”

  “We’ll get them.” Lucky didn’t know how at the moment, but they would. After all, they’d been planning for a baby for months now.

  They just hadn’t planned on one so soon. But, hell, if Bo wanted to equip the nursery right now, Lucky could be at the local all-night Walmart in five minutes.

  Bo lunged, squeezing Lucky and burying his face in Lucky’s neck. “I can’t believe this. We have a kid. A son. I’m so scared, but happy too.” He pulled away, wiping his face. Tears. His broad smile declared them happy.

  “You’re gonna do fine.” Bo excelled at everything else, why not fatherhood? Lucky debated telling Bo he’d seen him with baby Andro, how perfect they’d looked together.

  “Do you really think so? I mean, I’m still seeing a counselor for PTSD, and it’s not even been a year since I got out of drug rehab…”

  “Which wasn’t your fault. Look, if it’ll make you feel better, talk to your counselor. Get an expert opinion.” Might not be a bad idea for Lucky to do the same. Talking about having a kid and suddenly having one were two different things entirely.

  “Yeah. Good idea. And we’ll need to talk to Walter.”

  Lucky froze. “Walter? Why?” What would Walter say or do if he knew the truth about the baby?

  Then again, Walter knew everything anyway.

  “I’m not going to tell him about the birth certificate. He’ll probably put two and two together. I won’t say the words directly, so he can deny knowing if he has too.”

  Lucky did a double-take. Who was this man and what had he done with squeaky-clean, by-the-book Bo Schollenberger?

  No traces of sleepiness remained in Bo’s clear eyes. “I’ll have to call my aunt. I won’t tell her the truth though, and she won’t ask. She’s good like that. Says if I want to tell her stuff I will.”

  “Why didn’t she take that attitude last Thanksgiving?” Instead of turning stalker, thinking Lucky somehow kept Bo away from his family. As if Lucky stood a snowball’s chance in Hell of having such power.

  “Trust me. What will your folks say?”

  “Mom stopped asking questions after getting an honest answer she didn’t want to hear about me being gay. I kind of explained things to her. In detail.” He’d never seen anyone’s face turn so red.

  But she’d never asked again.

  Bo sat quietly for a moment, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes shone, and his grin produced, not only The Dimple, but the seldom-seen Cousin-of-The-Dimple in Bo’s other cheek. “We’re fathers. I can’t wait to bring him home. We have so much to do!”

  Lucky would kill or die to keep Bo this happy.

  Bo kissed him, deeply, thoroughly, and passionately enough to render Lucky a little stupid by the time he withdrew. “I love you, Lucky. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Whatever the fallout, they’d face the storm together—like always. Yeah, they’d tell Bo’s aunt, Lucky’s parents, Char… “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” Bo’s smile fell.

  One problem solved, but another stared them in the face.

  A big problem.

  Huge, even.

  “What the hell are we going to tell Charlotte?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Same ugly orange couch, same woman with the ultimate poker face.

  “I’ve done some shit in my day. Things I’m not proud of. Things I regret.” The woman didn’t get paid enough to know the full story of Lucky’s past. Even with her psychology degree she’d have a hell of a time avoiding bad dreams if he confessed all.

  “Mr. Harrison, there’s not one person alive who doesn’t have moments they’d like to do over. You’ve got to forgive yourself.” She cocked her head to the side. “You’ve never really talked about yourself before. Why now?”

  Lucky examined his fingernails. Any excuse not to look at her. He drew in a deep breath and braced for laughter. “I’m about to become a father.”

  Dr. Libby glanced up from her tablet computer. “Really? How wonderful. When is the baby due?”

  “He’s already here.”

  “Oh, you’re adopting then. A very noble decision.” That she didn’t ask about a wife or girlfriend said she’d been paying attention when Lucky talked about Bo.

  Which he did—a lot.

  Even after plenty of practice opening up to Bo and Walter, fear still sank in sharp claws at the thought of admitting weakness. “I’m worried I’m not good enough. That all the shit I’ve done is going to come back when I least expect it to bite me in the ass.”

  There, he’d voiced his deepest, darkest fear.

  “If we let our fears rule us, no one would ever accomplish anything. What are you really trying to say?” Why did Dr. Libby stay so damned calm? Couldn’t she yell for once?

  Like a Lucklig
hter?

  Or confirm his doubts. Which he’d expected. “You’ve been talking to me for over a year now. Do you think I’m fit to be a father?”

  Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “Are you asking me to provide the courts with a professional recommendation?”

  “No.” Lucky rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers. Later he’d consider why he used one of Walter’s go-to poses. “You’ve heard me talk about my life and shit.” Not all of it, but enough. “Do you think I’d make a good father after all that?”

  “What do you think a good father is?”

  Damned fine question. At one time he’d simply recite his father’s qualities. Now? “He loves his kids. Is there for them. Puts them before himself.” Way before. At the moment Lucky scored about tenth place on his “most important people in my life” scale.

  “Is he perfect?” Dr. Libby prodded.

  His father, apologizing for spending too much time on work and not enough on his kids. Or his mother’s heartfelt make-up hugs after she’d lost her temper and yelled—even though he’d deserved her wrath. “Nobody’s perfect.” Especially not Lucky. His own parents made some mistakes along the way, but they always tried to fix what they messed up with their kids, even though they hadn’t spoken to him for a few years. Bo got crap for a father. Lucky had to be better than him, right?

  Hell, he’d kick his own ass if he came anywhere close to the way the second William Patrick Schollenberger treated his sons.

  “Does your ideal of a good father make mistakes? If you set your expectations too high, you’ll only frustrate yourself trying to live up to unrealistic goals.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes. That’s what worries me, that one day my kid will be in here telling you or someone else about his shitty old man.” There. He’d gotten a major worry out in the open.

  “What kind of support base do you have? Family, friends, belief in a higher power? Someone you can turn to for help?” Dr. Libby studied Lucky far more intently than he’d have liked. Could she see right through him?

  “All of the above.” Just because he didn’t live what other people might call a God-fearing life didn’t mean he didn’t believe in a higher power.