Nick
I’m not sure I ever actually fell asleep. The sky outside is still dark, but enough morning has crept in through the blinds, letting me know that most of the night has passed.
They moved Grady to the pediatric floor for observation sometime after midnight, and the nurses kept us from getting much rest after that.
Grady struggled even more whenever the room went quiet.
Poor guy kept waking in a panic, arms outstretched as he searched for me.
I finally crawled into his bed and pulled him to me.
He tucked himself against my side and stayed there, his breathing eventually settling into the slow, even rhythm of sleep.
The doctors are still waiting on repeat labs, and a caseworker is supposed to come by this morning to sort through the complicated mess of figuring out who can legally make decisions for him.
My paternity case is still working its way through the Texas courts, which means everyone knows I’m Grady’s father except, apparently, the State of Texas.
Needless to say, I called my lawyer.
Soft snores pull my attention across the room where Leah is curled into herself on the narrow couch. She showed up last night less than an hour after my text, her face pale with worry as she hurried through the door.
I told her she didn’t have to stay, but I'm so fucking glad she came.
Tiffany was medically cleared sometime early this morning and taken into custody. From what the officer told me, this isn’t her first DUI, and with the drugs they found in the car and Grady testing positive for exposure, she’s facing charges serious enough that prison is a very real possibility.
Anger doesn't feel big enough for whatever is sitting inside my heart right now.
I fucking hate her.
For putting Grady in that car. …
For gambling with his life …
For being so goddamn selfish …
But as much as I hate her for harming our son, there’s a part of me that hates myself even more. I knew something was wrong. Maybe I couldn’t name it or have proof, but I felt it every goddamn time she was late or changed her story or flat out didn't show up.
I should’ve trusted my gut feeling.
I should’ve done something.
Fuck.
I chose not to visit her in the ER before she left. I couldn't. My son needs me more than ever, and I didn't trust myself to come face-to-face with that woman.
Right now, the only thing that matters is the little boy asleep in my arms.
I bury my nose in his hair and breathe him in before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. My hand finds his beneath the blanket, idly counting each chubby finger.
“Morning,” Leah whispers, a rich gravel to her voice.
“Hmm morning.” I cover a yawn. “How'd you sleep?”
She shrugs. “Probably better than you.”
I smirk. “Dad life, I guess.”
“Yeah, but this was never supposed to be part of it.”
Her eyes drift to Grady, and when they come back to mine, neither of us says anything. We don’t need to. The worry is still there, sitting between us after a night neither of us wants to repeat.
Leah pushes herself upright, and that’s when I notice what she’s wearing.
A quiet laugh slips out. “You still have that?”
She looks down at my from our first date and tugs at the hem. “What? It keeps me warm at night. Plus, it’s good juju.”
“The pastor’s daughter believes in juju now?”
She giggles as she slips her shoes on. “Desperate times.”
Once she’s on her feet, she stretches and reaches for her purse. “I’m going to find us some breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I need to do something.” She shivers, wiggling her fingers. “I have too much nervous energy. My stomach's in knots, and I'm thinking a kolache is in the works.”
That does sound good.
She comes around the bed and leans over carefully, mindful of Grady between us. Her lips brush mine in a soft kiss. “I’ll be back.” Her fingers skim my cheek before she straightens and heads for the door.
I watch her go, smiling long after the door closes behind her.
Grady snuggles closer in his sleep, smacking his lips.
I pull the blanket up around us, and I finally drift off to sleep.
***
Cartoon voices pull me out of a sleep deep enough that, for a second, I have no idea where the hell I am. Squinting around the sun-filled room, I see Grady sitting cross-legged beside me, happily chewing on a small handful of sour peach rings.
“What are you doing, partner?”
He squirms, rocking to the beat of the music on the television. “Eating breakfast.”
I snort, grabbing a piece of candy and popping it in my mouth.
“Mrs. Harrison said not to wake you.”
Of course she did.
“And Mrs. Harrison gave you candy for breakfast?”
“She said I could have some just this once.” He points toward the table. “She brought kolaches too.”
A paper bag sits beside a coffee, Leah’s handwriting scrawled across the front.
Had to let Angus out and get to school. You needed the sleep. I’ll come back tonight. —L
I smile and reach for my phone. It’s already after seven.
I snap a picture of Grady holding the peach rings and send it to her.
ME: Really? For breakfast?
The little dots appear almost immediately.
LEAH: I said just this once!
I glance at Grady.
“Your teacher is a bad influence.”
He grins and pops another peach ring into his mouth.
A knock at the door pulls my attention from Grady’s cartoons.
Rory pokes her head inside, and Grady immediately perks up.
“Rory!”
“Well, look who it is.” She steps into the room with a smile. “I hate seeing you back here, buddy, but I’m really happy to see you.”
“Did you get the velociraptor puzzle?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You remembered that?”
Grady nods eagerly.
“I did, actually. You want to come help me put it together?”
He’s already pushing the blanket off his legs when I notice the woman standing just outside the door.
“Hold on.” I look at Rory. “What’s going on?”
“There’s someone here who needs to talk to you. I thought Grady and I could hang out downstairs for a little while.”
As they leave, an uneasiness settles low in my stomach as I slowly make my way to the door.
“Hi, Dr. Crawford. I’m Shantae Jackson, and I'm a caseworker with Child Protective Services.” She gestures to the pull-out couch. “I’d like to go over a few things concerning Grady and what happens from here.”
“I’ve already contacted my lawyer. Should he come now?”
“You’re certainly welcome to have your attorney involved. I’m letting you know now because we have to begin the assessment immediately. Grady is safe here, but before he can leave the hospital, we need to determine who he can safely be released to and what protections need to be in place.”
I let out a sardonic laugh. “Well, that will be me. I'm his father. I know in the eyes of the law I'm not just yet, but I filed to establish paternity early November. We’ve been waiting on a court date ever since.”
She nods, opening the folder in her lap. “I’m aware of your pending case, Dr. Crawford. That’s actually one of the things we need to discuss. Before we get into what happens from here, I’d like to understand your relationship with Grady. In your own words.”
I lift a shoulder. “He’s my son.”
She gives me a small nod and starts taking notes. “How long have you been involved in his life?”
“Since September. I didn’t know about him before then.” Even saying that still makes my stomach turn. “Tiffany called me. We met and she told me I had a five-year-old. We were … um, casual at one point. She didn't think I'd be interested in being a father.”
“But you were?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Hrm.” She continues to write down my answers. “And since September … what has that looked like?”
“What do you mean?”
“How often do you see him? Are you involved in his day-to-day care?”
“Yeah. Of course.” My knee bounces. “We’ve been splitting time. He stays with me, I take him to school, pick him up.”
“Financially speaking?”
“Financially, I have the means. I buy his clothes, his food, whatever he needs with school.” I rub my palms over my thighs. “He has a room at my house, his own stuff ...”
Her expression softens. “It sounds like you two have become very close.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “We are. I love him.”
She nods as she flips through some pages in the folder. “Okay, so let's talk about back in November. It’s my understanding that you filed a petition to establish paternity.”
“Yes ma'am.”
“And you haven’t appeared before the court yet?”
“No. My attorney said it could take a while to get on the docket.”
“So they have ordered genetic testing?”
“Not yet. That comes after the court orders it … right?”
She nods, her manicured nail trailing down the page as she reads.
My pulse hammers in my head, my nerves lodged somewhere in my throat. She turns another page, scans it, and I have to stop myself from telling her to hurry the hell up.
Just say we’re good to go. Take whatever information you need and let me take my son home.
Her gaze meets mine. “Dr. Crawford, the reason I’m asking these questions is because the information you’re giving me doesn’t match the records we received this morning.”
My brow furrows. “What records?”
“There is already an established paternity on file for Grady.”
I blink. “I’m sorry. What does that mean?”
“Paternity has already been legally established for Grady.”
“No. That's not right.” A nervous laugh slips out before I can stop it. “We filed in November. We’re still waiting for me to take the paternity test. Nothing has been established.”
“Dr. Crawford, someone else took a paternity test for Grady Stone.”
The room suddenly feels too warm, my chest unable to expand. “Then … I … I'm sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Crawford. Another man is Grady’s biological father.”
My mouth goes dry.
“But ...”
“I'm so sorry you have to find out this way.”
“But … but he's my son,” I choke out. “He's mine.”
“Dr. Crawford—”
“I need my lawyer.” My hands shake as I frantically pull out my phone. “I-I need to call him. He needs to be here. And I need your supervisor. And I need—oh God, I need … I need my son.”
I collapse onto the couch, burying my head in my hands as my fingers knot into my hair. I pull hard, trying to hold myself together, but the sobs come anyway.
I drag both hands down my face and force air into my lungs until I can finally think past the panic. None of this makes sense, and falling apart isn’t going to get me the answers I need.
“So what does this mean? You’re just going to take him away from me?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” I say a little too harshly.
She waits until I look at her. “My responsibility right now is to determine the safest placement for Grady while his mother is unable to care for him.”
“How can he be safe if he’s not with me?
” My voice cracks, and I don’t bother trying to hide it.
“I’m the one who takes care of him. I’m the one he calls when he’s scared.
I’m the one who—” I swallow hard. “He called me Dad yesterday. For the first time, he called me Dad, and now you’re standing here telling me I’m not? ”
“I’m not questioning what you are to Grady.”
“Then don’t take him from me.”
Her expression softens. “I can see how much you love him.”
I take a few deep breaths. “What happens now?”
“We have several things to work through before Grady can be discharged. Depending on what we’re able to verify, temporary placement with an approved caregiver may be an option. If we can’t identify one, foster placement is also a possibility.”
“Foster care?” I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I understand, but legally, we also have an obligation to contact his established father.”
The words knock the air out of me all over again. I grip the back of the chair. “Then who the hell is he? Where has he been for the last five years?”
She lowers her eyes to the folder.
“I can’t answer the second question.”
“Then answer the first.”
Her fingers turn one page before stopping. “According to our records, paternity was established last summer to …” Her eyes scan the page. “Looks like Barnett. Matthew Barnett.”