Chapter 16
He had no words. Nothing. Anger had stolen them all. Shock had left a void of endless questions, circling like a whirlpool that would suck him under.
How could Gen—straightforward, honest always, Gen—have lied to him? How could she think he hadn’t wanted to know about his child?
His child. His daughter.
Just the thought that he was half responsible for that small creature sent tingles up his spine. Bella was obviously intelligent—she got that from her mother—but there’d been an open curiosity too, that contrasted to Gen’s wariness.
Gen wasn’t naturally demonstrative, and he’d always appreciated that as it differed to his mother. But perhaps a little less reserve might’ve helped her own the truth to him.
He leaned his forehead against his living room window, staring down all the many floors way below to where people scurried like ants on the sidewalk.
Had anybody else in this city today received such a huge shock as he had?
He doubted it. He didn’t know what to do.
Didn’t know who to speak to. He could bet a million dollars that nobody else in the Northwest Ice posse had experienced such a thing.
“God, what are You doing?” he prayed. “This wasn’t supposed to work out this way.”
No answer. Maybe God had given up on him after all.
“Is that it, God? Is this the ultimate payback for my sin? I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.”
As if his legs had given up on him too, he slumped to the carpet, curled fetus-like, staring out the window as the sky changed to deepest blue.
He lay there for a while. A long while. Long enough to watch the moon appear and trail slowly across the sky. It was pretty, sure. After a normal day, he might even get the telescope out and try to find the Sea of Tranquility. But today had proved to be no normal day. Today had changed his life.
“Everything is going to change,” he muttered in the darkness.
Everything had to. Now he knew he had a daughter, everything in his life would need to take her into consideration.
His life wasn’t just about him anymore. He’d have to think about Bella, and by association, also consider Gen.
His fingers clenched. There was no way Gen was going to keep him away from Bella.
Bella.
It was a pretty name. Was it short for Isabella or something else? Oh, he had a million questions for Gen, but couldn’t speak to her now. Had barely been able to look at her as she’d tried to explain.
Explain? How dare she try to blame him to justify what she had done? He wasn’t the problem here.
He rolled onto his back, as the stitches from the past made their presence known. Okay, so lying like this was probably not doctor-approved, but it felt like he had no strength to stand. Not anymore.
His phone rang. He ignored it. Couldn’t reach it. Well, he could if he moved, but he felt like lying here forever.
“Lord?”
His heart clenched and a sudden wave of emotion passed through him, and he began to weep. To weep for the stupid break in his and Gen’s relationship ten years ago, and the fact she obviously had never really trusted him or loved him enough to be honest.
To weep for the missing years, when he’d missed Bella’s birth, her first smile, her first word, all the things a real dad would’ve known.
To weep for the shocking way life had turned upside down in the blink of an eye. One minute feeling like his future with Gen was assured. The next, feeling like she was only a hologram of someone he’d once known.
“Lord, why? It’s not supposed to be like this.”
His phone rang again, cutting into his grief. Whoever it was, they were getting annoying.
He closed his eyes, and he must’ve slept a bit, because when he woke he was really cold, stiff and sore. Outside was darker, more still, like the city had finally decided to sleep.
He probably needed to sleep too. He pushed to all fours, grimacing as pain pierced his side. That didn’t feel good.
Somehow, he managed to stumble to grasp the back of the sofa to pull himself upright. Had it really only been a week ago when Gen had stayed here? It felt impossible.
He staggered to the bathroom, winced at his reflection.
Nobody would ever award him best-looking guy on the team, and right now he looked suspiciously like a troll.
After flicking on the shower, he stripped, then took solace under the now-warm water.
Heat gradually made its way inside, warming the frozen organ that had been shocked numb by Gen’s news.
He was a dad. A father. He now had responsibilities beyond himself, whether Gen wanted him to or not.
He needed to speak to her. Speak to Bella. Man, he probably needed to tell his folks. Who was he kidding? Of course he needed to tell his folks. There had been too many secrets for too long, and he wasn’t going to be keeping any more.
He dragged in a breath, nearly choked on the cooling water. He’d been in here too long.
But still… He dried himself, thinking over his parents’ likely reactions.
Mom would have a fit, would blame Gen for sure, and would likely consider herself too young to be a grandmother to a nine-year-old.
Dad? He wasn’t so sure. But he could also see both of them insisting on making sure Bella had opportunities for the best education, music lessons, sports, the works.
They were generous that way, even if Gen had never been able to see it.
But then, they’d always kept their sponsorship of local sports teams under their hat, so how could she?
He exhaled, stumbled to his bed, when his phone rang again.
Anger flared. Didn’t whoever it was know it was way past midnight here?
Let ’em call. He wasn’t gonna answer.
He closed his eyes, but his mind kept churning through images from today. Or was it yesterday? He no longer knew.
Gen. Flowers. Bella. Tears. That rickety shack they called a house. The moon. Ant-people. Peace. All of which felt impossible, impassable, requiring answers he didn’t have and superhuman strength he knew he didn’t possess.
He stifled another sob. “Lord, I need You.”
And maybe God still had an ounce of grace for him, because somehow the whirl of worries stilled enough for him to finally sleep.
Morning light smacked him in the eyes. Someone had forgotten to close the blinds properly last night, and a chasm of light was centered laser-like on his eyelids.
He blinked awake, felt the crusty residue of last night’s tears that he palmed away as best he could. His stupid tears had led to a headache the size of Mount Rainier thudding behind his eyes. He felt like a drunk with a hangover, but no greasy burger or kebab could fix this mess.
Still, a shower might help, so he blasted himself with hot water, changed, ate, brushed his teeth, then finally felt ready to face the missed phone calls.
Sure enough, most of them were from his mom. Great. She had a way of ferreting out information that he really didn’t like, especially as it was so effective.
He braced, prayed for wisdom and grace, and finally called her back. “Hey Mom.”
“Oh, Kyle, at last! I was so worried.”
“What about?”
“You didn’t answer your phone last night,” she chided.
“Because it was really late and I was asleep.” Or had been trying, anyway.
He kept his eyes closed, praying for grace as she kept talking, kept woodpecking him with questions that drilled a fresh ache in his head.
“So you’re feeling okay?”
In his body. “Sure.” His heart and soul? Not so much.
“It’s just that you sound a little tired, Son.”
“I saw Gen yesterday, Mom.”
“What? Why?”
Why had he said that? Sure enough, Mom began to rant and rave about how that girl was Bad News and Kyle should keep away from her. But her comments only made him punchy, to want to strike back with a truth bomb sure to ignite her antipathy.
“She’s got a nine-year-old daughter, Mom.” A beat. “So, apparently, do I.”
Silence met him for a long moment. Then, “What? Are you serious? Are you telling me you have a daughter? How do you know it’s yours? It could be anyone’s. Oh, she’s always been a tramp, I wish you had never met—”
“Is Dad there?”
“David?”
He rolled his eyes. How many other dads did Kyle have? “If he’s working from home and can talk I need you to put him on. Please, Mom.”
He heard a loud huff then Mom’s voice calling for his dad to pick up the extension.
He waited until his father finally answered. “Kyle? What’s this I hear about Gen having a daughter?”
“It’s true, Dad. I met her. Her name is Bella, she’s nine years old.”
He could almost hear his dad doing the math. “But that would make her… You and Gen were going out back then.”
“She’s mine, Dad. She’s got my eyes and my hair.”
“You can’t be certain, Son,” Mom spoke up again. “I bet she did this to entrap you.”
“Entrap me? She didn’t even want me to know, Mom.”
Kyle shivered. Imagine if he’d gone through life and never found out that someone—Bella—shared his blood. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for the injury that had placed him in Gen’s path.
“I demand you get a DNA test before you go doing something foolish,” Mom continued. “I can’t believe—”
“When can we meet her?” Dad asked calmly.
Kyle pressed his lips together for a moment.
This was the support he wanted, needed. “I don’t know yet.
It’s all so new I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.
But I thought you should know. And,” he swallowed, “I’m sorry for disappointing you.
I know this is probably the last thing either of you would’ve wanted. ”
Mom concurred, while Dad took a little longer to respond.
“Kyle, if I’ve learned anything over the course of my years it’s that life has a way of throwing us curveballs. And if this is one of those for you, then I’m standing with you, Son. You let us know what you need.”
“That’s right,” Mom said, surprising Kyle with what must be the world’s fastest one-eighty turn ever. “If you want lawyers or anyone to help you fight this, then you only need say the word.”