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When I politely escort Amber to her car, I peck her cheek goodbye. I hope I’ve inspired her to leave Blair and Beau alone. Don’t tell her, but I’d give her all my millions to move on.
Because I can’t.
Once I jump in my Rover, I don’t leave. I’m suffocating in lies. In secrets. In shame. So, I make a call. I reach out for some good news.
“Hey,” Reese answers.
“Hey.” I stare at my steering wheel. “How’s he doing?”
“He just made a second base hit.”
“Just like his dad. Teeball leads to baseball, then football one day.”
“Hmmm,” she answers. “He has talent.”
I smile. I can hear happy kids screaming in the background. “Send me more videos.”
“I will.”
She’s not saying much, so I whisper, “Is he there?”
“No, it’s just me at evening practice. Jake had to work.”
Jake is Reese’s husband. He’s the man who thinks he’s the father of her son.
“Can I come see him again? Before the season starts?”
Reese’s sigh is long, and my heavy heart hangs by a thread. Her whim holds it. She’s always had control of it.
“Colton, he’s getting too old. He asks too many questions, and you’re too famous now. We can’t just sneak around like before.”
“But… ” I almost choke on my words. They strangle and burn in my throat, tears biting at my eyes, “I miss him. I want to see him. I need him to know I love him.”
I do. I don’t care how that little boy came into this world. He’s just that—an innocent little boy I love.
“I know.” Reese sighs, “And I’m sorry, Colton. You know I am. For everything. It’s just not safe anymore.”
“Reese, we can just tell everyone. We can just tell the truth. Please, it’s fucking killing me.”
“No. That’ll hurt Jake, and that will hurt Forrest. He loves his dad so much.”
I clench my jaw, throwing my chin up, fighting the tears that want to fall. “Jake’s not his dad.”
But he is.
It’s like what Blair yelled to her father.
Jake is Forrest’s dad because he’s there. He was at the hospital when he was born. He held him, giving him late-night feedings. He bandaged skinned knees, packed kindergarten lunches, and taught him how to throw. He’s a real man. He raised his son.
Yes, I’ve done everything I can for Forrest. For the rest of his life, he’s set. But Reese won’t allow the one thing that boy deserves, too.
He deserves to know who his father is.
And so do I.
“Colton, I’ll send more videos, I promise.” Reese has always felt guilty about this, and she should. It’s her fault.
“Bring him to our games,” I make myself answer. “I got more season tickets for y’all this year. They’re closer. He’ll be able to see us better.”
