10. Evan
CHAPTER 10
Evan
I sat on the steps outside her apartment for what felt like an eternity, my legs beginning to cramp from the awkward perch. My fingers drummed against the concrete, an involuntary response to the tension churning inside me. I couldn’t even distract myself with my phone. Every time I tried, I just ended up doing searches about the genetics of Long QT syndrome and how to run a paternity test.
I wasn’t leaving until I talked to her though. Jake had done me a solid favor, convincing one of the nurses to give me a heads-up when Samantha was running home. It had taken everything I had to walk away from the emergency room yesterday, and even more restraint to stay away after my shift ended at eight this morning.
As much as my heart was screaming at me to force my way into the hospital room, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet.
So instead, I was sweating through my shirt as the unforgiving sun beat down on the apartment entrance. I stared down at my shoes, wondering why the steps I’d taken in life would have led me here. That night hadn’t been life-altering enough?
I heard a car door slam and slow footsteps approached. They stopped abruptly. I glanced up and found her standing on the walk a few feet away.
Samantha looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her usually neat hair was a tangled mess, strands falling loosely around her face, some sticking to the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes, normally warm and steady, were bloodshot, with dark circles hanging beneath them, as if the weight of worry had stolen the rest of her energy.
Her clothes were wrinkled, the dress pants and loose cardigan hanging limply on her frame.
But even in her exhaustion, there was something in her posture, a quiet strength that demanded attention. She was fragile, yes, but she was holding it all together. The lines of her face were drawn with fatigue, but there was no denying the fierce protectiveness that radiated from her. She was a mother, through and through.
And she was hurting.
“I can’t do this right now,” she said, sounding exhausted to the core. I pushed aside the concern for her well-being that needled its way into my thoughts.
“This conversation is not optional,” I retorted, unable to keep the edge from my voice. It was as if it had a mind of its own, demanding and urgent, betraying the turmoil that was eating me up inside.
She inhaled sharply, her movements precise as always, but I could see the surprise flicker across her features.
"First of all, how is she?” I asked, gentling my tone as I stood to look her in the eye. I wanted to demand answers, to shake the truth out of Samantha like leaves from an autumn tree, but concern for Sophia held me in check. It was a strange feeling, caring so deeply for someone I barely knew, yet feeling tied to by an invisible thread.
Samantha looked at me, her lips trembling just slightly, but her expression remained closed off. "She's stable," she said quietly. "Just needs to rest. The doctors are monitoring her heart closely."
I nodded, the lump in my throat growing heavier with every word she spoke. She wasn’t ready to break—not yet. But I could see it in the way her shoulders sagged when she thought I wasn’t looking. Samantha was running on fumes.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to find a comfortable stance on the unforgiving concrete steps. The evening breeze carried the scent of freshly mowed grass and the distant hum of a lawn mower, a reminder of normalcy in a world that felt anything but normal.
"I need to know the truth about Sophia." My hands clenched into fists at my sides, as if preparing to fight.
Her eyes dropped to the ground before meeting mine once more. She stood a little straighter, an unconscious preparation for the impact of truths long buried. "Evan," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor I could see in her hands.
“Don’t lie to me this time. She’s mine, isn’t she?”
Part of me was still expecting her to deny it.
Samantha's heart seemed to sink, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly under the weight of the secret she'd carried alone for too long. But then, with a subtle shift, she steeled herself, facing me with a resolve that I couldn't help but admire, even as it tore me apart.
“Seems like you already know she is,” she replied, trying to push past me.
Time stood still. The world stopped spinning, or maybe it spun too fast for me to keep up. Words escaped me, as did the breath from my lungs. Fury surged through me like wildfire, burning away the years of detachment I'd cloaked myself in. It was as if I'd been living in black and white, and suddenly the world erupted in unforgiving color.
I bit back a curse word, stepping away from the door and pacing on the short walkway. “How–” I managed to say, my words dissolving into the hot afternoon air. "How could you keep this from me?" My voice broke through the silence, raw and unfiltered. Her admission hung heavy around us, a confession that changed everything, a truth that demanded its due after years of being locked away.
I stared at Samantha, feeling the fury building inside me like a storm brewing on the horizon, as she remained silent. "You stole years from me," I said, my voice rising uncontrollably, each word sharpened by betrayal. "Years I could've had with my daughter. "
Holy smokes. The words hit me like a sucker punch. My daughter. Sophia was my daughter.
"I did what I had to do," she insisted, defiance mixing with a hint of regret. Her shoulders squared, even as her voice shook. "I was alone, Evan. I did what was best for her.”
“Best for her? Or easiest for you?" I challenged, unable to keep the edge from my words. My heart raced, fueled by a potent cocktail of anger and heartache.
“You weren't here! You never came."
"I tried to find you," I said, each word heavy with the weight of those fruitless efforts. "But you vanished. You could have found me."
Samantha's voice cracked, betraying her fortitude. "I had to make a choice, Evan. And every day, I lived with it, knowing one day this reckoning would come. I was–am–terrified about what you’ll do now that you know."
"You made a choice," I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. As much as I wanted to bridge the gap between us, to understand and forgive, the hurt was too raw, the wound too fresh. “A choice to rob me of our daughter’s childhood. What about my choices? What about my right to know, to be there for her?”
"I'm sorry, Evan. I truly am," she said, her voice breaking. She sat down on the step I had vacated.
I took a step forward, a few scattered rocks beneath my boots crunching like a harsh whisper against the backdrop of our raised voices. Samantha squared her shoulders as if bracing against an invisible storm.
"Tell me," I pushed, each word heavy with years of buried emotion. "Why did you hide her from me? What about that week was so terrible that you’d rather Sophia grow up without a father than reach out to me.
“I—I thought..." But her words trailed off, swallowed by the thickening air between us.
"Thought what? That I wouldn't want to be a part of her life? That I'd turn my back on my own daughter?" The accusation tasted bitter on my tongue.
"No, it wasn't like that," she insisted, her voice climbing with every syllable. "I was afraid you’d take her away from me," she cried out, tears and anguish covering her face.
I recoiled at her words and resisted the urge to close the distance between us to wipe away those tears. Her words felt like a slap to the face. She thought I would have taken Sophia away from her?
I shook my head slowly, still feeling sliced open by her sobs. “You made a baby with me. But you obviously don’t know me at all.”
She sniffed, still staring at the ground. “Say whatever you want, Mercer .”
I felt the dig intended by the use of my last name as though she’d used a shovel.
She continued, “I grew up with a dirt floor, a negative bank balance, and a deep resentment of the wealthy and powerful, because when you’re raised on food stamps, it’s hard not to see the divide as injustice. So don’t tell me that I should have believed that the rich boy who knocked me up in the bathroom before disappearing would suddenly want to coparent with me.”
Shame flooded me at her words, and I didn’t know how to respond. This situation was so messed up.
I stepped toward her, unable to hold back. I leaned over and tipped her face up to mine, studying her expression. My thumbs traced a path under her eyes, smearing the tears across the dark circles. She shuddered at the touch.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
What could I say? That everything was okay? That I wasn't torn apart inside? "I just... I need time," I finally managed, the world around me reduced to the echoing sound of my own heartbreak.
I heard the words she whispered as I walked away, though I wasn’t sure she was intending me to. “I won’t let you take her from me.”