If what Maggie says is true, this eight-year-old kid sitting next to her is mine. I have a fucking son.
A son I missed for eight years.
“I know this must come as a shock to you,” she says, lacing her hands in her lap. Her back is straight, and her voice is crisp and clear. The way she moves and speaks sounds like she had professional lessons in etiquette. Her clothes are expensive and impeccable. There isn’t a wrinkle on her navy-blue skirt or a rip in her pantyhose. Her hair is long, tumbling over her shoulders in a chocolate fountain, and her eyes are filled with warmth and sympathy.
I turn my head and see Heaven salivating to get a taste of her. She’s way out of his league.
“Dillion is your son, Mr. Campbell. It took me a long time to find you. Too long. I had to hire a private investigator to be honest. You are very good at hiding yourself.”
“This is impossible.” I smooth a hand over my mouth, and Jaxon pats my back. Feels good to have my friends at my side for this. They are making me calmer. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Kendall going on nine years. You’ve seen my record.”
“I also know you’re a man who was wrongly convicted, and you were with a swayed jury and judge. Listen, I can try to pull some strings to get your case appealed if you’d like, but we can talk about that after we talk about this.” She lowers Dillon’s hood, and his eyes are on the floor, cast away from me.
He hasn’t spoken a word.
“No,” I whisper when I see the clean shape of his head. “Come on. Come on!” I yell and stand at the same time, lacing my hands behind my neck. Dillion jumps and clings to Maggie, afraid of me.
But I’m beside myself. I’m devastated. My son is sick. By the looks of it, he’s very sick. With my heart pounding, I close the distance between us and kneel on the ground. I look from him to her and say, “I swear, I didn’t know. I didn’t know he existed. I didn’t know he was sick. I would have tried to help. I would have…” I swallow the emotion. It’s one thing to find out I have a son, but to know he’s sick? That’s another level of turmoil. “I would have done my best to be there.”
“His mother put him up for foster care a few years ago.”
“That fucking—”
Maggie rounds her eyes at me, and I clear my throat. “That fudging bitch.”
“Mr. Campbell,” Maggie scolds me, and Dillion giggles.
I grin. “I think someone agrees. Hey, kid…” I lift his chin and peer into the eyes so similar to mine. It’s impossible not to see the similarities. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. If I would have known…”
He nods and lays his hand on my cheek, still not saying a word, but everything he needs to say is in that small touch. My palm lays over his, and I lean into his touch. It’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. This void in my chest is being filled, and I already love him so much knowing he’s mine.
“Why is he here? How sick is he? Do you need money?” I question and fumble around in my pockets. “I don’t have my checkbook on me. I’ll write the amount you need—”
“Mr. Campbell…” Her hand lands on my arm, stopping me from drawing my own conclusions. “We are here because I was finally able to find you. I never gave up looking for his family. His foster families didn’t work out. He’s a good kid, but none of them are able to cope with a sick child.”
“How sick?”
“Leukemia,” she says, laying her hand on the back of his neck. “He’s strong. He’s doing great with treatments, but it’s a strong cancer. It’s fighting back hard. Dillon, sweetie, why don’t you go play?”
I don’t like that.
I don’t like that she’s sending him away. It means whatever she wants to tell me, he can’t hear.
“Hey, buddy…” Jaxon gets up from the couch and kneels beside me, holding his hand out to Dillon. “We have an awesome game room. You want to play some air hockey?”
“Oh, I’ll totally win,” Heaven challenges, standing up on his good leg, swaying a bit. He almost falls, but Sebastian reaches out and catches him.
“Whatever. I’m the best,” Owen points to himself, flexing his big muscles in a show.
Dillion smiles, his two front teeth gone, and my heart melts. How the hell is this happening to me? An hour ago, I wasn’t a dad. Now, I can’t believe I had eight years taken from me.
“Let’s go show these fools who is boss, and we will give your dad and Maggie some privacy. Come on,” Jaxon says, still holding out his hand, but Dillion doesn’t say a word. He looks at me, then Maggie, and shrivels away from Jaxon.
“He’s shy, and he isn’t much of a talker,” Maggie says, wrapping her arm protectively around Dillion. She cares for him a lot, that much I can tell. I guess when you’re with a kid for a few years, trying to find the right home, a person can get attached.
“Uncle Jaxon is one of my best friends. You can trust him. I promise. I’ll be in there soon. We can all play games, have a movie night if you’re allowed, and eat junk food,” I reassure him, hoping the waver in my voice isn’t noticeable with how nervous I am.
Dillon slides off the couch, and our eyes don’t leave one another’s as he takes Jaxon’s hand. He keeps his head turned to stare at me until Jaxon opens the game room doors. And just like that, I lose the kid’s attention. He runs into the game room and immediately heads toward the skee ball machine. Jaxon gives me an affirmation wink, telling me Dillon is in good hands. I never doubted it.
The sounds of the door clicking shut and the impact of the silence hanging in the air has me falling back on my ass and releasing the biggest breath I have ever. I place my elbows on my knees and hang my head, thinking about the last time I was with Kendall. It was the time she accused me of rape. It was that sexual encounter that she got pregnant with Dillon. Her lie put a horrible stain on the moment when Dillon was created. I knew I didn’t hold any forgiveness in my heart for her before, but this just sealed the fucking deal. Who knows what this kid has been through? I’ll bet anything she was neglectful to him because all she cares about is herself.
I hate her.
“I know this is a lot to take in. I don’t expect you to make a decision right now. It’s one thing to be surprised with a son, but it’s another to decide if you want the burden of taking care of a child who is ill.”
“A burden? He wouldn’t be a burden.”
The expression on her face turns from sweet to guilty. Her lips part, and her hand raises to her mouth where her fingers cover part of her lips. “Oh my god, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean, his cancer. This will be an emotional rollercoaster ride. If the treatments don’t work, the doctors don’t give him very long.”
Her words hit harder than a three-ton wrecking ball. I sit there and process what she’s saying. Basically, there’s a good chance my heart is going to get fucking destroyed. “There’s a chance he’ll live, right?” God, please, just tell me there’s a fucking chance.
“There’s always a chance. Right now, it’s about beating the odds.”
“Well, he’s my kid. He’ll beat the odds; we always do.”