And there is only a ten-year difference between the two of them.
Jesus.
How the hell do I get myself involved in these messes?
The trim of the door creaks when I push off, and I give my back to her cries to go into my own room. Every inch the door shuts, the more guilty I feel. I want to ignore her, but I can’t because this is the woman who kept me up late at night as we joked back and forth. We talked about dreams and goals. We talked about everything under the sun. She’s the reason I never slept at night.
But the happiness I felt talking to her was enough to make me feel energized, and that person is here now, right across the hall, and I’m too damn mad at her to ask if all of it was a lie.
None of it matters to me now, or it does, and that’s why I’m so damn mad. Because she lied, I started liking someone I wasn’t allowed to. She trapped me in a sense, and I don’t think I can ever forgive her for that.
What kind of man would it make me if I told her we should start over, forget the past between us, and start fresh? She’s eighteen now. We could start over, and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.
It sounds stupid, but she made me feel like I mattered. For once, I felt important to someone. I never got the impression there was romance between us, not yet; we had been taking our time.
Thank fuck.
And now? I can’t even think straight.
The bed sheets rustle, yanking me from my thoughts that have gone in circles for the last hour. I walk over to the bed and sit, watching Dillon get comfortable again as he sleeps. The last twenty-four hours have been life-changing, and I’m spiraling out of control.
I don’t know how to be a father.
I don’t know how to ignore the want I have inside me for a woman who is barely fucking legal.
I don’t know how to handle any of this, and I feel like I’m about to dive off this cliff and just chance it with the ocean.
I lay down next to Dillon and think about all the times he and I and missed together. Eight birthdays, eight Christmases and New Year’s; eight years of memories that I’ll never have or get back. I turn my head to look at him, and I shove a pillow over my face to smother the emotion brewing. I’m so mad. I have so many mixed emotions, but the biggest one is anger.
I have a son.
Who is beautiful.
I throw the pillow off my face and gather some damn sense about myself. I have to put my priorities in order. Dillon will be waking up soon. How many more heists will I be able to safely do now that he is in my life? I have to think of him, and I’m not going to leave him without the only damn family member he has left. I want to prove to him that I give a damn, that I’m here and no matter what shitshow life throws at us, I’m not going anywhere.
Even through his cancer.
Even through the strong possibility of losing him.
I’ll be there.
I’ll risk getting broken if it means I get to love my child.
I stretch my arms behind my head and stare at the ceiling, trying to make plans and decide what we can do so he isn’t bored here. What do parents with kids do? I look down and freeze when I see him moving closer.
And closer.
Then he places his bald head on my shoulder. He sighs, like the weight of the world is off him because he feels safe.
Damn it, I’m emotional today. I wrap my arm around him and rub a hand over his smooth head, then I kiss the top of it. I can’t let him die. I won’t let this disease take the most important person in my life now.
He won’t live questioning if he is worthy or loved. I won’t do him wrong. He’ll always know he can come to me. I’ll be there, unlike my parents. I won’t lie, and I won’t deceive like Kendall did. I’ll be the person he can count on because no one realizes having that one person makes the biggest difference.
One person. That is all it takes and someone’s life is changed forever.
“Daddy?” a sleepy voice says my title for the first time since he got here yesterday, and the bubble in my throat almost has me crying in front of him. I knew I was a dad, but hearing him call me that is a different kind of feeling. I feel like Superman, like I could take on the fucking world and win.
“Good morning, buddy,” I greet him with a big smile on my face. I’m trying to act cool about him calling me dad. “Did you sleep good?”
“I’m still tired.” He yawns.
He has such a little person voice. It’s so high-pitched compared to mine. He’s so fucking tiny.
“You’ve had a busy few days. You can rest for as long as you like. We have to go to Portland for your chemotherapy on Thursday, so you should rest while you can.”
“You’re really going to go?” he asks, rubbing his eye with his fist as he tries to wake up.
“What? Of course, I am. I’m never going to miss an appointment. I’m going to be there for you every single time.”
“You don’t have to feel like you to,” he whispers, his chin wobbling. “I don’t want to be a burden. I know you don’t know me. It’s okay if you don’t want me. No one does.” Fat tears roll down his face, and all the years he has been looking for a home, all the loneliness he has been feeling comes to the surface.
I sit up and cup his fragile face with my big hands. My thumbs wipe his tears away, and I smile. “I don’t feel obligated. You are not a burden. I’m sorry you had to feel that way before we finally found each other. I never would have made you feel like that. You’re my son. Mine. I want you here. You don’t ever have to question that. I’m never going to let you be alone, okay? You have me now.” I tug him to my chest, hug him tight as if I’m afraid he will float away and disappear like he never existed. I hold him like he’s going to die.
No matter how positive I am, he just might.
His shoulders shake as he wails, and he crawls onto my lap, holding me in return. I’m not sure how long we sit there, but he cries himself to sleep again. I wait a few minutes to make sure he is really asleep and try to lay him down, but his arms tighten around my neck.
A knock at the door sounds, and rocks fill my stomach when I think it’s Finley. I debate on ignoring it, but if it is one of the guys, they will knock louder and wake Dillon up. Hell, it will probably be awhile before they get used to the idea of having a kid around the house. I push myself up into a standing position, and Dillon wraps his legs around me, nestling his cheek into my shoulder. I keep my arms around his legs so he isn’t in danger of falling as I walk toward the door.
When I open it, I see a sleepy Maggie there wearing plain sweatpants and a shirt, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. A small sleepy grin tilts her lips. “I’m sorry.” She keeps her voice low. “I just want to make sure everything is okay?”
“Um, he just cried himself to sleep. He said he didn’t want to feel like a burden to me. It breaks my heart he feels that way. That’s the only thing that’s come up. Other than that, he has been sleeping since last night. Is that normal? Is it his cancer? Don’t kids wake up on three hours of sleep no matter what?” I ask, confused. I sound like I have no idea what I’m talking about. I need a parenting book for dummies.
“His treatments make him weaker. He is tired. He’s been fighting for a really long time and not just for his life, Mr. Campbell. He’s finally with his dad. Maybe he feels like he’s truly safe now.”