Bottle Shock

Chapter 1

Gavin

I THINK I HAVE A DAUGHTER

Jumping off a cliff is always a good idea.

My toes grip the sun-warmed rocky terrain as I inch closer to the edge.

One glance down and my stomach drops. Adrenaline kickstarts my heart, sending an erratic rhythm racing through my veins.

There’s nothing that makes me feel more alive than the possibility of dying.

The likelihood of this killing me is slim, but I welcome it like I welcome most reckless ideas. Head on.

As the salty air whips around me, I take in the endless stretch of the Adriatic Sea.

It’s the kind of water that almost looks artificial—so clear and blue it makes you question why nature would create something as beautiful as it is dangerous.

But then maybe that’s the point: it’s to lure you in, to give you that false sense of safety just before the current pulls you under.

I’ve been in Croatia for the past month, working as an apprentice for a biodynamic winemaker. Despite having extensively studied enology, I’ve learned more from Luka in a few weeks than I ever did in college.

Today, wine couldn’t be further from my mind—today is about the jump, about feeding my need for adventure. I can only stand still for so long before that restless itch becomes unbearable and I’m chasing the sweet spot between foolishness and freedom.

Rolling my shoulders, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Everything goes quiet—it’s just me right before the free fall.

Blood pounds in my ears, my fingers twitch before I ball my fists tightly, and the sun overhead blazes down on me like universe’s version of a spotlight. One breath later, I push off the edge.

The air tears past me in a rush, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a moment that’s both endless and instant, I’m weightless, spinning through the cloudless blue sky, and then the sea swallows me whole.

The impact is hard, a stinging slap against my skin, the icy water so cold it burns. Beneath the surface, I’m insignificant—a small blip. Nothing. And it’s exhilarating.

Kicking hard, I break through the water with a gasp and grin so wide my face aches.

Luka casts me a wave from where he stands at shore, shaking his head that I’ve dragged him out of his cellar for this.

I wave back so he doesn’t send out a rescue boat.

Bobbing for a minute, I stare up at the cliff I just jumped from, letting pride swell in my chest. Almost a sixty-meter drop, not my tallest, but certainly not the shortest.

Floating, with the sun beating down on me and water filling my ears, my eyes fall shut.

Growing up, life was loud. Being the oldest of six made it hard to find those moments of peace and quiet. Now, when I get to experience them, I’m that much more grateful. My body moves with the current, and I let it take me. It’s freeing to give up control, and let the power of the sea guide me.

I float for a while, keeping my eyes closed, and emptying my thoughts. I’ve never been one to meditate, but I would imagine this is as close as I’ll get to it.

Eventually, I swim for shore, my muscles burning the closer I get. From the climb to the jump to the impact with the water, every limb aches. The best kind of ache. Proof of a day well-lived.

When I reach Luka, water is dripping off me and sand clings to my feet.

He hands me a towel, and I use it to shake out my overgrown hair.

I haven’t cut it since I was home, and it’s taken on a longish floppy look.

My sister, Elyse, teasingly referred to it as ‘90s boy heartthrob hair last night over FaceTime. Whatever the fuck that means.

“Your phone,” Luka starts, his thick accent much easier for me to understand than it was when I first arrived. “It’s been ringing and ringing.”

I frown. Nobody is supposed to be calling me. I’ve been using this time to pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. No emails, no updates, no social media, and no bullshit. Apart from check-ins with my family, to everyone else, I may as well be off grid.

Luka hands me the buzzing phone. I almost press ignore, but the number is American. And not just that, it’s showing a Seattle area code, which is close enough to home to pique my curiosity.

Hesitating, my thumb hovers over the answer button. If Luka is right, and my phone has been going off non-stop, then whoever it is must really want to speak with me.

I press answer. “This is Gavin Ledger.”

A woman’s voice clears. “Mr. Ledger, this is Rebecca with King County Child Protective Services. I’m sorry to reach you this way, but I’m afraid we’re on a time constraint.”

Child Protective Services? What the fuck?

“You must have the wrong number. I—”

“Are you familiar with a woman named Allison Thomas?”

I blink a few times, shaking my head as I try to wrap my mind around whatever the hell is going on.

“Uh, yeah I know Allison. We connected months ago. What’s going on?”

She lets out an exhale, and the sound of it has my spine stiffening.

Allison and I met while she was traveling through New Zealand.

I was there for the Cool Climate Wine Symposium.

We happened to be staying at the same hotel, instantly bonding over being—what felt like—the only Americans in the entire country.

In a strange string of coincidences, we quickly found out we were both from Washington state.

A night out in the city, a few too many drinks, and one thing led to another.

It was fun. She was fun. A beautiful distraction at a time when I needed one.

Two people looking for connection, nothing more.

Just one night.

We didn’t even exchange numbers.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” she continues, “but unfortunately, Allison passed away two days ago.”

I stumble back a step, the towel slipping from my grasp. “I—what?”

Despite not knowing Allison very well, hearing about her death is shocking. But as quickly as the shock hits me, confusion quickly takes its place.

“I’m sorry to hear about her passing, but why are you letting me know? We were barely more than acquaintances.”

She quiet for a beat. “Are you aware Allison was pregnant?”

My footing slips on a rock, breath stilling in my lungs. I scrub a hand down my face, rubbing my eyes to clear the blur in my vision, but it only worsens.

Pregnant?

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

Luka’s gaze cuts to mine, his eyes widening with concern. I turn around, not sure I can handle his stare as a spiral starts to roll over me.

“I understand this is a shock.” Her voice is softer now, less professional than it was before.

“Allison died from a hemorrhage after giving birth and she listed you as the father on the birth certificate. Her parents are here, prepared to take full custody if you’d like to relinquish your parental rights, but before that, we’ll need a DNA sample from you to confirm paternity. ”

Words begin rotating through my mind—hemorrhage, parental rights, DNA, paternity. It’s too much. Acid works its way up my throat, and suddenly too much of my strength is required to stand upright. I hinge at the waist, resting a palm on my knee, my chest heaving.

“Mr. Ledger, I know this is a lot to take in, but I’m going to need you to make some quick decisions. How soon can you get to Seattle General?”

“I’m in Croatia,” I say with a breath, my voice so distant I hardly recognize it. “How did you get this number? How do you know I’m the right guy?”

Before me, the water crashes onto the shore, waves breaking over one another. Everything is in motion, but I feel frozen—like the epicenter of a raging storm, seconds from being swept away.

“Allison had your name and contact information in her belongings. Time is of the essence. The baby is stable in the NICU for now, but she’s not out of the woods yet.”

She.

The baby is a girl.

I straighten my stance, a surge of panic jolting me. “NICU? What’s wrong with the baby?”

“Allison delivered early. There were complications. I can’t say much more than that. The sooner you can get here, the better.”

“I’ll be on the next flight out.”

We hang up, and I stand with my phone still clutched in my hand, staring at the horizon, where the sea meets the sky in a line so fine it barely exists.

Luka’s footsteps sound behind me. He claps a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Did something bad happen?” he asks, the unease in his tone is heavy.

Without taking my eyes off the water, I nod. “Yes and no.”

He stays silent, but his gaze remains on me.

When I finally turn to face him, the reality of it all lands like a weight to my chest.

“I think I have a daughter.”

It turns out the first flight out of Croatia was a red-eye with five layovers—easily the longest, most disorienting travel experience of my life.

By the time the wheels touch down at Sea-Tac, I’m running on shitty airport coffee, no sleep, and possibly on the brink of having a panic attack.

My phone buzzes as I exit the terminal. It’s the number I now recognize as the social worker’s. We’ve kept in communication since she dropped the news.

“Gavin?” Rebecca says as I answer. “Checking to see what your ETA is.”

“Just landed.” I weave through the crowd, skipping baggage claim. I was in such a daze when I left, I didn’t pack anything—just grabbed my backpack and walked out. Everything else is still in Croatia. “I’ll grab a rideshare now.”

“Great.” She lets out a relieved exhale. “I’ll meet you in the main lobby at Seattle General. I’ll walk you through everything once you arrive.”

The drive from the airport is a complete blur, with my thoughts racing a mile a minute. Part of me is in disbelief, convinced this is all one huge mistake, and the other part of me is terrified out of my mind at what I’ll be walking into.

The driver is barely at a stop in the drop-off zone when I mumble an incoherent thanks, and race to the entrance.