“Kristen, no. I’d never hurt you!” I cry out, trying to rise from the bed. Glancing to the side, there’s a blonde woman laying on my arm. A quick look confirms that a brunette is holding down the other.
“Brett, you’ve let us down,” Derek murmurs from Kristen’s side before wrapping his arms around her.
“Derek, what are you doing?! Get your hands off her!” I bellow, struggling with everything I am to get free, but I don’t budge. It’s like the women weigh a ton.
“You lost me, Brett. I’m in love with Derek.” With that, she turns her beaming smile upon him and he leans down and places a kiss on her lips.
“Noooo!”
Jerking up in bed, my breath heaves out of my chest as my heart races, I reach over for the bottle of Jack Daniels, only to realize it’s no longer there. How long will these damn dreams haunt me? That one night sent my entire world crashing down around my ears and I still don’t know what the fuck happened. What I wouldn’t give to remember what occurred that made me betray the love of my life. Even after two years, the feeling of unfaithfulness continues to plague me. I would have rather thrown myself on a sword than cause Kristen a moment of pain. Throwing back the covers, I sit up on the side of the bed, resting my elbows on my thighs. The ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, stirring the air to cool the sweat on my body. The sun peeks through the blinds, casting the room in low light. Until a few months ago, I was drinking myself numb to avoid the pain. Then one morning, I woke up and realized I wasn’t doing myself or my friends any favors.
The blaring of my ringtone startles me as the phone vibrates on the table. Brian’s face lights up the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, my throat scratchy.
“Brett? You awake?” Brian’s voice blares out of the speaker, causing me to wince.
“I am now. What’s up?” I ask around a yawn.
“Do you have any plans this morning?”
“I’m meeting the guys at the gym in about an hour,” I reply after looking at the clock.
“Change your plans,” Brian demands. “Something has come up and it needs to be dealt with.”
“Brian, I haven’t done anything wrong lately,” I defend.
“I’m sorry, Brett, I didn’t mean it that way. This is something you need to see in person. It’s eight o'clock now. Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Sure, I need to shower and get dressed. Where do I need to be?”
“I’ll come to you. And I’m bringing someone with me you need to meet.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather you see them in person,” he hedges.
“You’re being awfully cryptic, Brian.”
“I know, but in this case, seeing is believing.” The phone beeps as the call ends. That was weird as hell.
Jumping in the shower, I rush through my routine before getting dressed and heading downstairs. I’m sipping a cup of coffee when the doorbell rings. Glancing at the clock, it’s fifteen minutes to nine. Right on time for Brian.
I hurry to the door and pull it open it. Brian stands there, and behind him is an older woman with a baby resting on her hip. Her face is gaunt and pinched as she struggles to hold the weight of the child.
“Come in, please.” As Brian passes, I question with my eyes what the hell is going on.
“Brett, I’d like you to meet Helen Lexington. She contacted my office a few days ago with some startling information.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Please, have a seat.” She gives me a tight smile before sitting down with the…baby? Toddler?
“Brett, I don’t know how to do this, so I'm going to get to the point. Helen had a granddaughter by the name of Amanda Lexington.”
“Okay.” The name doesn’t spark an ounce of recollection.
Brian must feel my confusion because he carries on. “She was at a lot of your shows. She followed the band around the country for a while.”
“My granddaughter was a huge fan, Mr. Ingles. She was obsessed with you, quite honestly.”
“Was?”
“Yes, was. My granddaughter passed away several months ago, I’m afraid.” Sadness tinges her voice.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Brett, I…man, this is harder than I thought it would be.” Brian has trouble finding the words, which is unusual for him.
“What Mr. Jefferies is trying to put delicately is that according to my Amanda’s diary, she had relations with you in April of two thousand and fifteen.”
I start to respond to that, but when she turns the baby toward me, my breath catches.
“Colby was born eight and a half months after that.”
I can’t move as I stare into the eyes of a child who could only be my son.
“Wha…” My mind blanks. I step backward, my arm reaching behind me as I flounder for something to hold onto. I touch the leather chair before I stumble over the arm, landing in a heap on the leather surface.
This can’t be real, right?
“I’m not proud of my granddaughter, Mr. Ingles. I spoiled her too much after losing her parents, I suppose. When she turned eighteen and graduated high school, any influence I had over her seemed to disappear overnight. She began to hang around with what I would call a bad crowd. Amanda came into her trust fund when she reached her majority. One young lady she spent time with led her down the wrong path. She turned my Amanda against me. For months, I never heard from her. Until she returned, pregnant with him. She was in a bad way, hooked on only God knows what. She went to rehab and stayed sober throughout the rest of her pregnancy. Colby was premature and was in relatively good health except he was tiny, not even weighing five pounds. He was a very colicky baby, hardly ever slept, cried almost constantly. I can only assume the stress drove her to it.” A look of sadness sweeps over the woman’s face as tears well in her eyes.
“Drove her to what?” I whisper.
The woman startles and hugs the baby closer. “She killed herself. Overdosed on heroin,” she replies, voice weary. “I found her on the floor, lying next to Colby’s crib. The pitiful thing was screaming his head off.” She places a soft kiss on his head as he squirms in her arms.
“When?” I sputter.
“February of last year,” comes her murmured response.
“Over a year ago? Why did you wait so long to find me?” Anger builds inside me when I realize how much time I have lost with my son.
“Truthfully, I had no intentions of looking for you. Not that I knew where to even start. But life gets in the way,” she states as a cloud of shame passes over her face.
“What do you mean?” I bark out.
“The doctors have diagnosed me with pancreatic cancer. It’s terminal, I’m afraid. And I’m the only family he has, except for you.” She looks at me, her eyes pleading for me to understand. “He’s all I have left. I didn’t want to give him up.” She clears her throat before her gaze softens as she looks down at Colby. “It was selfish of me, I realize that, but I couldn’t take the chance you would take him away from me.” Her voice cracks before she steels her spine and looks over at me. “Now things are different.”
“I bet. Now that you’re dying, you show up and say here’s your son.” I retort, my hands curled into tight fists to keep from strangling the woman.
“Brett, control yourself,” Brian orders.
“Control myself?” Jerking up from the chair, I get in his face. “The woman just admitted that she would keep my son away from me!” My voice raises with each word drawing a startled cry from Colby, his big brown eyes well with tears before the fat drops roll down his cheeks. His little chin trembles before a hiccupping cry leaves his mouth. The sight makes me feel like scum as I am the source of his distress. Running a hand down my face, I force myself to calm down.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. This is all so…so crazy.” I look over at her as she cradles Colby to her chest, making soothing noises until he quiets down.
“I can only imagine the shock I have given you. Amanda
left a diary that I found among some of her belongings that I neglected to sort through. That was the only clue to your identity. She had refused to name you. Even Colby’s birth certificate lists you as unknown.
“I’ll be changing that,” I snort.
“As soon as all the legalities are taken care of, I would expect nothing less.”
“Legalities?”
“Yes, she has brought paperwork that, once someone verifies that Colby is your son, will grant you sole guardianship of Colby including control of his trust fund,” Brian chimes in.
“I don’t need verification. He looks just like my baby pictures.”
“The courts will need DNA verification, not just your word, Brett,” Brian smirks at me.
“Mr. Jefferies is correct. It’s a rather simple procedure to confirm that you are Colby’s biological father. Once that is complete, we can discuss what will occur.”
“He’ll be coming home with me, that’s what will occur,” I sneer at the woman.
“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Ingles. Are you prepared to take care of a young child?” she asks with delicate brow arched. “Do you have a crib for him to sleep in? Clothes? Is your home childproofed?”
“Ugh, no,” I reply sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck, hating that she makes sense.
“Then I suggest you prepare. I plan on staying in Dallas for as long as I can, but I prefer to be at home at the end. I need to make sure you will take care of him before I leave."
It dawns on me that my son’s great-grandmother is dying and all the anger I’m feeling toward her washes away. “How long?”
“Before I leave or before I die?” A small deprecating smile graces her face. “The doctor has given me six months. I would like to spend as much time with Colby as I can before I leave to go back up north,” she murmurs as she nuzzles the dark hair on his head causing him to let out a soft giggle.
“Brett,” Brian interrupts. “I’ve made an appointment to have both of your DNA tested. I’ve pulled a few strings to get the results expedited. The quicker we get to the lab, the faster we’ll get the results and can take the next step.”
An hour later finds us sitting in a sterile office, the soft whir of machines and the whispers of the staff surrounding us as we sit in rigid plastic chairs. The petite, dark-haired technician opens the thin, rectangular package, pulling the long cotton-tipped swab out with a flourish.
“I’m just going to swab the inside of your check. It’s completely painless,” she says, waving the little white stick in front of me. “Open wide.”
My mouth is dry as a desert after an eternity of her rubbing the cotton on the inside of my check. After placing the swab into a translucent plastic tube, she breaks off the shaft with a decisive click. Colby was fussing in his great-grandmother’s arms as the other male lab worker tried to get a sample from him.
“Shhh,” Mrs. Lexington tries to soothe him but he’s not wanting anything to do with it. Soon his arms are flailing and little legs kicking as she tries to hold him still. When the technician grabs his jaw to keep his head still, I see red.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt. “Let me try before you traumatize him for life.”
His face twists up in a sneer as he backs away. I kneel in front of Colby and as soon as his brown eyes meet mine, he freezes likes he’s in a trance.
“Hey, little man,” I place a hand on his cloth-covered belly. “I know it’s scary. It’ll just take a second. Ma’am, would it be okay if I try?” I ignore the man’s snort as I look over at the brunette. With a gentle smile, she hands me the opened package, the tip of the swab protruding from the top.
“Just rub the inside of his cheek like I did yours and be sure to twirl the swab to make sure it’s well-coated.” She instructs.
“Okay, little man let’s get this over with.” I wag the stick in front of him. "Open up.” His gaze roams my face before a smile graces his face showing off a dimple on the right side as a little chuckle escapes him. That’s when I realize my mouth is gaping like a fish out of water. Heat warms my face as I grasp what an idiot I look like. It’s all worthwhile though when Colby opens his lips and I’m able to get his sample.
“Good job, Colby,” I praise him. “High five.” Holding my hand out in front of me, his tiny hand slaps mine. With that one little touch, so many emotions course through me, elation, surprise, sadness, tenderness, protectiveness, that I’m overwhelmed. And when his little arms reach for me, I blink rapidly to prevent the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Lifting his slight frame to my chest, he rests his head above my heart. I can’t help but lean down and place a kiss on his soft hair, the smell of baby shampoo filling my nose.
“Mr. Ingles, we’ll get these processed and have the results for you tomorrow. Do we have a good contact for you?”
“The lab director has my contact number,” Brian interrupts. “He knows to call me as soon the results are ready.”
“Then if there is nothing else we need to do, you are free to go. Have a blessed day.” She smiles as she holds open the heavy wooden door for us to exit.
“Mr. Jefferies, if you would be so kind and drop Colby, and me off at the hotel. He needs to eat and have his morning nap.”
“But,” I argue.
She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Mr. Ingles, in twenty-four hours I will lose the most precious thing left in my life. Please don’t spoil it for us by being petty. You will have years to enjoy with Colby, while my time is limited.”
“Please call me Brett. And I will not cut him out of your life. You’re his great-grandmother. The only grandparent he has. I’m not a mean person.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you would be cruel. While I knew this day was coming, I’m finding it harder to process than I thought it would be.”
“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. We’ll get together tomorrow when Brian gets the answers. But you are more than welcome to come and stay at my house for as long as you want.”
“That is a very generous offer, Mr. Ingles.”
“Brett,” I correct her.
“Brett, it is.”
After dropping off Colby and Mrs. Lexington at their hotel, Brian and I head back to my house. My mind races with all the things that need to be fixed before Colby comes to live with me.
“Brett?”
I look over a Brian as we pull into the driveway. He says nothing until he parks the SUV and puts it into park.
“How sure are you about this?” His worried tone catches me off guard.
“About what?”
“Becoming a single parent? You have no idea how this will change your life,” he says staring off into space.
“I know I’m going to make some adjustments.” At his maniacal laugh, the words freeze in my throat.
“Adjustments? Son, you have no idea the shit storm that is coming your way. Are you going to take Colby on tour? What about rehearsals?”
“I’ll figure it out. We’re not leaving for a tour anytime soon since Delaney is only a couple of months old.” Delaney is my guitarist, Isaac Haynes', daughter he had with his girlfriend, Camryn. Since meeting Colby, I can understand the obsession that Isaac has with the little girl. Foregoing guys’ night out to stay at home with his family has become the norm.
“Yes, but Isaac has Camryn to take care of Delaney when he’s not there.”
“I guess that means I need to get a nanny.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea later down the road. Right now, that boy will need stability. He’s already lost his mother even if he is too young to remember her. Now his great-grandmother will leave him. He’s being thrust into a brand-new life with a stranger that will be solely responsible for his wellbeing. He needs you to be a constant in his life.”
“I didn’t even think about it that way.”
“I hope that his great-grandmother takes you up on your offer to stay with you. It will help him adjust to his new home.”
“Me too,�
�� I agree
“First things first. We need to get your home ready for a toddler.”
“That should be easy.’ I state with a shrug.
When Brian doesn’t say a word, I glance over at him to find him staring at me with a shocked look on his face.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he says with a shake of his head.
The knock at the door has me breaking out in a sweat. Brian called earlier to let me know the lab had the results of our DNA test and that he was going to the hotel to pick up Colby and his great-grandmother and bring them to my house. After we returned home yesterday, my focus was on making the house ready for a toddler. Brian wasn’t kidding when he said I didn’t know what I was in for. After searching the internet and being bombarded with all the things I needed to make my home safe, I headed to my local home improvement store. Luck was on my side as the associate who helped me was a mother of five and knew what I needed. Three hours and a full cart later, I left only to head to the furniture store. Everything I wanted for Colby’s room was in stock and I loaded it into the truck and brought it home. Nelda, my part-time housekeeper, was a godsend as she came over on her day off and cleaned the house from top to bottom. I was up into the wee hours of the morning installing cabinet locks, a whale on the spout in the bathroom, toilet lid locks, new covers on the electrical outlets and cushions on the corners of tables. I’m sure I’ve missed things, but it will work for now. His furniture has been put together in the room next to mine upstairs. I've scheduled a company to come by later today to install gates at the top and bottom of the stairs to keep little man from falling.
My body is exhausted, but my mind won’t shut down to let me rest.
What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not mine? I’ve become attached to him in such a brief period it will break my heart. And I’m not sure the fragile thing can take another hit.
Tires crunching on the pavement draws my attention to the front door. My palms sweat as I open the door. As soon as Colby sees me, he makes a grunting sound and reaches for me. Mrs. Lexington hands him over with a relieved smile.
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