41 - Shay
41
Shay
I walked around the studio apartment, stepping over a bag full of baseball gear. “You know, for a doctor, you’re kind of a slob.”
“Shut up,” Jordan said from the couch, where he was frowning at an iPad.
“You make a good point,” I joked. “I should try that argument in court. Your honor, I move that the opposing counsel shut up .”
“Here it is,” Jordan said, jumping to his feet and showing me the tablet. “You were right.”
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
“The registration form for our baseball league.” Jordan pointed. “Brandon Mercer. Age five. Not four. And he was born in September, nine months after the holiday break when Lucas and Haley hooked up.”
I squinted at the screen. “Brandon Luke Mercer.”
Jordan gasped.
That sealed it for me. Everything before that had been circumstantial evidence, but the middle name was far more definitive. If this were a trial, it would have been more than enough to convince a jury.
Thunder boomed outside, punctuating the point.
“Lucas is Bran’s father,” Jordan said.
I sank into the couch and picked up my beer, taking a long pull. “I can’t believe she’s kept this from him.”
“I get it,” Jordan said, staring at the iPad like the information might change if he focused hard enough. “You remember how Lucas was back then. He told anyone who would listen that he didn’t want kids. And he was a massive fuck-up. If I were in Haley’s position, I wouldn’t have told him, either.”
“It must have been hard,” I said, shaking my head. I was a pretty empathetic person—part of my job was putting myself in people’s shoes, making myself think like them. But I couldn’t even imagine what it had been like for Haley. Getting pregnant, choosing to keep the baby, then dropping out of college and diverting her entire life…
And doing it all alone.
“Whelp, now we know the truth,” Jordan said. “Here’s the tougher question: do we tell Lucas?”
“Assuming he doesn’t already know?”
Jordan shook his head emphatically. “There’s no fucking way he knows. He would’ve lost his shit and called me. Trust me, he’s still in the dark. Unless we tell him.”
“It’s not our place,” I said.
Jordan scoffed at me. “Not our place? Bro, he’s our best friend, and he has a fucking son that he doesn’t know about. And worse, we’ve been hanging out with him.” He groaned. “I’d be fucking furious if you guys knew there was a little Jordan Junior running around and didn’t tell me.”
“Thank God that’s not true,” I teased. “One of you is enough.”
Jordan threw up a middle finger, but he laughed.
“This is bad,” Jordan insisted. “I’ve been teaching him baseball. Fucking baseball. And he’s my best friend’s kid.”
“It’s not our place to tell him,” I said calmly. “The angle we should take is convincing Haley to tell him. Lucas deserves to hear it from her, not us. He’ll probably take it better, too.”
“Damnit, you’re right,” Jordan whined. “Fuck!”
“I bet you have a really good bedside manner.”
“I’m sorry, is there a problem with my cursing? I’m extremely careful with my words when I’m around my patients. They’re kids. But right now it’s just you and me, alone in my apartment, so I’m going to fucking curse if I fucking want to.”
“I withdraw my complaint, your honor,” I joked.
Jordan shook his head, then looked directly at me. “I like her, man.”
“Haley?”
“Who else are we talking about? Yes, Haley. I like her a lot. I’m talking a massive fucking crush. I’ve dated a lot of women, but I’ve never felt this way before. I know that’s, like cliché or whatever, but it’s the truth. I think about her literally every single day, counting down the minutes until I get to see her again.”
Wind swirled outside, sending rain pattering against the window. I slowly took another sip of my beer. If I was being completely honest with myself, I felt something similar to Jordan. No, not similar—identical. Haley had been a permanent resident in my mind since I met her last month, creating a complex knot of emotion and desire that would soon be too difficult to untangle.
I was obsessed with her.
But all I said was, “My feelings are not dissimilar to yours.”
“That’s a lawyer answer if I’ve ever heard one,” Jordan said. “So, what do we do about it?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” I said. “We had already agreed that Lucas deserved a chance with Haley first, since they had a history together. Now that we know Bran is his son, that’s more important than ever. We can’t get in the way of their potential to have a real family.”
“I hate it,” Jordan said, leaning forward and holding his head in his hands. “You’re right. I get it. But I hate it.”
“Me too.” I gulped down the rest of my beer. “Got anything stronger?”
Still hanging his head, Jordan pointed. “Cabinet to the right of the microwave. Pour me a glass, too.”
I went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. “Which bottle?”
“The older whiskey,” Jordan said. “That was a gift when I got into med school. I save it for special occasions, but this feels like a good time.”
“Ice?”
“Straight,” he replied.
I pulled two glasses out. “Good man.”
Jordan’s phone rang. He answered it, then said, “Yeah, I’m home. Shay’s here. Okay. Come on up.” He lowered the phone and looked at me. “That was Lucas. He’s outside. He sounded… rough.”
I grabbed a third glass and placed it next to the first two. “Looks like we don’t have to pressure Haley after all.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “You think she told him?”
The apartment door flew open, and Lucas strode inside. He was dripping water, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was tough to tell because of the rivulets of water running down his face, but it looked like he was crying .
He threw himself into Jordan’s arms, letting out a sob.
Jordan hugged him back, unfazed by his wet clothes. He shared a look with me.
I grimaced, and filled all three glasses with whiskey.
“Bran is my son,” Lucas choked out, voice full of agony.
I handed each of them a glass. “Haley told you tonight?”
“Just now.” Lucas downed the drink in a single gulp. Jordan made a pained noise at seeing the expensive liquor thrown back so quickly, but he said nothing.
Lucas wiped his face with a wet sleeve, which only smeared more water. “You two don’t seem surprised.”
Jordan picked up the tablet and showed Lucas. “We literally just figured it out today. Bran is five, not four.”
Lucas didn’t look at the screen, instead closing his eyes. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”
“You have every right to be angry,” I said, taking his glass and refilling it for him.
“Angry?” Lucas asked, a universe of agony swimming behind his dark eyes. “This goes beyond anger. I… I don’t think I can ever forgive her for this.”
I shared another look with Jordan.
What a mess.