Chapter 7
Calvin
It’s the following Saturday, and I’m out on a run. While I had no luck finding a guy last weekend, this one will be different. I can feel it. It boosts my mood, and I pick up the pace, pushing my legs and lungs for the final stretch.
I check my fitness watch to see it’s after nine in the morning. It’s time to head back home for a high-protein breakfast and my favorite chicory coffee.
I jog by Seth’s place, pleased to see him cleaning up the toys from my yard. Although getting creative with toy totems has been quite challenging and fun, even a little cathartic, I’ll never tell him that.
When I pass him, he looks up at me, and I give him a hearty wave and a bright smile. He visibly huffs, but he can’t take his eyes off my shirtless body. Or that’s what I imagine he’s doing.
“The sweat just glistens off my muscles, doesn’t it?” I yell out.
He scowls before rushing off with a handful of toys, and I swear to god he’s blushing. There’s something about bashful bottoms that soothes the soul. I still have no idea if he’s into guys, but I have a feeling he is. It’s fun to imagine. “Caught ya,” I mumble to myself.
When I rush up to my front door, I hear a car door closing behind me. I turn around to a man getting out and waving at me not to go anywhere. He’s obviously here to see me, so I yank my shirt out from the back of my shorts and put it on. I can’t do much about the sweat.
As I wait for him to approach me, he rushes around to the other side of the car and opens the rear door. Out climbs a tall and gangly teen boy, looking terrified.
Who’s the kid?
As they approach me, the boy doesn’t lift his eyes from my stone walkway and follows behind the man, dragging his feet. He clearly doesn’t want to be here.
I glance at my neighbor’s house, but Seth has finished picking up the chaos strewn across our yards and is nowhere to be seen.
“Can I help you?” I ask as soon as the man reaches me, carrying a briefcase.
He holds out his hand to shake mine. I wipe my hand on my shorts since I’m still sweating. “Sorry, I just got back from a run.”
“It’s fine. Apologies for popping up like this. We tried calling, but there wasn’t any answer.”
I’d turned off my phone because I wanted a couple of days of peace. I had planned a very relaxing weekend without narcissistic mothers.
“We?”
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m Melvin Williams, from the Law Office of Brody & Thompson. I’m the temporary guardian of this boy here.”
He stands next to the kid and ushers him forward.
The boy’s dark brown hair is cropped short into an unfortunate haircut, with bangs that are too short.
His eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen, almost like the color came right out of the Caribbean.
They’re bright on his pale skin. He’s very lanky and tall.
I have a sinking feeling in my gut. I know deep down the kid is there for me. Is he some son I was never told about? Did I get a woman pregnant? It’s not often I sleep with women, but I do sometimes.
My mind instantly analyzes the child’s age, and I go back in time to see who I slept with fourteen to fifteen years ago, but it’s a blank. Regardless, I’m pretty sure I was involved with Grant at the time. Everything hinges on the kid’s age.
“May we come inside to talk?” the lawyer asks.
“I don’t know you.”
He digs out his wallet and hands me his business card. I take it from his hand and look at it. “The boy is distressed. I’d rather talk to you inside. Please.
“Sure.”
I turn on my heels, and they follow me as I unlock my door and we go inside. I keep on walking until we reach the kitchen at the back of the house.
“Please have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be great, actually. We spent all night driving here from Houston.”
My coffee is ready to make, so all I have to do is press start.
I glance back at the boy. “I have some orange juice, milk, or water.”
He doesn’t answer me. His red-rimmed eyes look at me for a second before looking away. I’ll take that as a no, then. He clearly doesn’t want to be here.
As the coffee brews, I sit at the kitchen table with them, unable to take my eyes off the kid. The longer they’re there, the more I know he’s here for me. Fuck, I am not ready for this. Not once did I prepare for the potential of being a father.
“This is Braeden Cox,” Mr. Williams says.
I freeze because I know that name. And now I instantly remember the boy.
The last time I saw him was about ten years ago, when my friends sent me his first-day-of-school picture.
I look at the lawyer, my eyes wide. “Marisa and Robert’s boy?
” Braeden whimpers and tries to fold into himself. Oh, fuck… “Are they…”
“Yes, I’m afraid they’ve… passed.”
Grief and regret gut-punch me, leaving me breathless.
When’s the last time I reached out to them?
Two years now? I was friends with Marisa first, back in college.
She’d met Robert at a local bar. They started dating and eventually got married.
As they became parents and I moved to New Orleans, I saw and talked to them less and less, as friends who move away sometimes do.
They were busy with a child and careers.
I was busy starting my business and grieving over Grant and his cheating ass ways.
“Jesus…” I’d ask what happened to them, but it’s not wise in front of the kid, who’s clearly hurting.
When the coffee is done, I pour each of us a mug and set some cream and sugar on the table.
Mine only has a splash of cream. I take a tentative sip of the hot brew, my mind getting lost in memories.
They’d been best friends back in college.
As horrible as it sounds, I’m relieved to know the kid isn’t biologically mine.
“So, you’re here, I take it, to drop off the kiddo until you can find a family to take him in?”
“No, Mr. Abernathy. You have been named Braeden’s guardian in their will.”
I choke on my coffee, spilling it everywhere. I abruptly stand, grab some paper towels, and clean up my mess. “Apologies. Hey, Braeden, would you like to watch some television so I can have a chat with Mr. Williams?”
He looks at the lawyer, who nods. The boy stands, and I lead him to my living room, turn on the TV, and hand him the remote. “I have all the streaming channels, so whatever you want to watch.”
He takes it from me, and I head back to the kitchen.
“I don’t understand,” I say, keeping my voice down. “I haven’t seen them or talked to them in years.”
“The will was written many years ago after Braeden was born. At the time, they may have seen you as their best option, since you all were apparently close. Mrs. Cox has no contact with her adoptive family, and she made it clear in the will that they would not care for Braeden. Mr. Cox grew up in the foster care system, as you’re probably aware, and has no family to speak of. ”
I recall that now. That was what drew Robert and Marisa together. They’d both been in the system.
Mr. Williams spreads his hands and shrugs. “Maybe they planned to change the will down the road, but now we’ll never know. You’re listed as the sole guardian of Braeden.
I reflect on when Marisa was pregnant. She and Robert had asked me to be the boy’s godparent, but I didn’t take it seriously. I thought it was in name only—something best friends do.
“Jesus,” I mumble and run a hand through my still sweaty hair. “I never intended to have kids, and I’m not even sure where to begin or what to do. I can’t tell you how unprepared I am for this.”
“We’ll help you with that. I have legal documentation you must sign so I can hand the boy over to your care.
After which, you’ll need to go to court to show you’re capable of caring for him and agree to be his permanent guardian.
I highly recommend that you contact your lawyer or hire a family lawyer.
Social services will need to visit your home to see if it’s suitable for Braeden.
” The man looks around my house, then back at me.
“But it’s clear you do well for yourself.
The court will then decide if you’re fit.
The likelihood of the court allowing you to be Braeden’s guardian is very probable, unless you…
decide not to watch over him, which you’re within your rights to do. ”
My head is fucking spinning. All that information is making me sweat more than I already am. It’s a clammy sweat that tickles along my back. “And what happens if I don’t?” I’m sure I already know the answer, but I need to hear it from him.
“Then Braeden will be put into the system. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Mr. Abernathy. Foster care is rough. The chances of success in adulthood are minuscule. The chances of substance abuse, dropping out of school, and suicide are high.”
I wince, already familiar with the system after being friends with Robert.
Despite asking, I already know I can’t put Braeden into the system.
The boy is mine whether I want him or not.
The thought of being a sudden father is freaking me out a little.
No, I’m freaking out a lot. Not gonna lie.
I don’t know the first thing about being a parent.
“May I offer some advice? It’s clear you weren’t expecting this, and they never talked to you about it. And it appears you’ve never had kids before. Are you single or married?”
“Ah, single.”
“I understand it’s a bit of a shock, but my concern is for the boy only.”
I take another sip of my now-cold coffee, then I stand and pour a fresh cup. “Yes, some advice would be welcome.”
“There are resources you can use to help a child transition into a new home and for basic parenting. On top of that, you have to help him manage his grief. This won’t be an easy road for you or Braeden.
I have enough experience to know there will be days you both will want to rip out your hair.
That’s normal. But he needs someone to lean on now, someone he can trust. And I also highly recommend you get him some therapy.
There are also family counselors to help you both with the process. ”
I lean against the counter and nod. “That’s a good plan. Thank you.”
“Be quick about setting up a court date. It will take up to three months to get the final verdict, though it may happen sooner. The quicker you do this, the faster Braeden can get settled into his new life, for you, too. My office will reach out to you soon to go over the will. Braeden also has a trust fund for when he turns eighteen.”
“Okay. How old is he now?”
“Fourteen.”
My hands wrap around the warmth of the mug, and I swallow the growing lump in my throat. “Can I ask… how they died?”
“There was a pile-up on I-10 in Houston involving a tractor-trailer. They, along with five other people, died. Braeden was staying the night at a friend’s house when it happened.”
It’s suddenly hard to breathe as the panic tries to settle in.
The heart palpitations are making my chest hurt.
I take some deep breaths to calm the fuck down.
One thing I’m good at is compartmentalizing.
Shut it down and focus on the task at hand.
My worry isn’t about providing for the boy, but about giving him what he needs emotionally, like love.
Love is the one thing I stink at. On top of everything else, the pain of losing my friends grows like wildfire.
Mr. Williams opens his briefcase and pulls out a manila folder. “Let’s get this paperwork signed, and I’ll be on my way.”