Chapter Thirty Six

Jake.

I shut the door behind me gently, careful not to let it slam, but the sound still echoes in my head like a gunshot. My chest is tight, my hands are shaking, and for a second I lean back against the wall outside her room, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes like that might help me make sense of what I just saw.

Two kids. Not just any kids. Her kids. Possibly my kids. 

“Mommy.” That’s what they called her.

I heard it with my own ears, and the word is still ringing in my head, drilling through my skull like a hammer.

My throat is dry, my mind racing so fast it feels like it’s burning. I can’t stop replaying the scene I just walked into Chanel giggling, playing with Kyla’s hair, Elias climbing into her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he belonged there. Like he belonged to me.

God.

That boy.

I keep seeing his face, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled, the stubborn set of his jaw, even the small dimple in his cheek when he laughed. He looks exactly like me. Not just a little bit. Not in that vague, maybe he has my eyes sort of way people sometimes say to be polite. No.

He looks exactly like I did at that age.

The same unruly dark hair. The same sharp chin. The same serious expression when he was focused on something. It was like staring at a ghost of myself, smaller, innocent, unaware of the storm that just ripped open in my chest.

My knees almost give out beneath me. I pace the hallway instead, dragging a hand through my hair, my heartbeat crashing against my ribs.

How the hell do I even process this?

Kyla has kids. She is a mother and not to one but two kids. That’s a truth I can’t erase, no matter how hard I want to press rewind and go back five minutes to when I didn’t know.

But then the bigger, louder truth slams into me like a train: that boy could be mine.

No. Not could be. He is. I know it in my gut, in the marrow of my bones. The resemblance is undeniable. I would stake my life on it.

But how?

How could she keep something this huge from me? She knew how bad I wanted to be a dad. 

My hands curl into fists as my thoughts spiral darker and darker. Did she know? Did she hide it on purpose? Is that the reason she disappeared? But why? Did she look at me all these years and keep this secret locked tight behind her lips?

My stomach twists painfully. If she did, if she really let me walk around this world not knowing I had a son or daughter. 

I press my back against the cold hospital wall and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor, elbows on my knees, fingers gripping my hair. The sterile hallway feels like it’s closing in, the walls pressing tighter, the lights above buzzing too loud.

I don’t know what to do.

Part of me wants to storm back into that room, demand the truth right now, shake the answers out of her if I have to. But the other part, the other part is terrified.

Because what if I’m wrong? What if the resemblance is just a coincidence? What if I walk in there screaming accusations, and she looks at me with those wide, wounded eyes and tells me I’m insane?

Or worse, what if I’m right?

What if he is mine? What if they are mine, my blood, Then what?

My life would never be the same again. Everything would change. All these years thinking I knew who I was, thinking I understood my past with Kyla, would unravel in an instant.

I bury my face in my hands and let out a shaky breath.

And god, the guilt. The crushing, suffocating guilt. If Elias is mine, that means I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there for his first steps, his first words, his birthdays. I wasn’t there when he cried in the middle of the night, when he got sick, when he needed a father.

I missed everything. I missed five years of everything of their lives. How could she be okay with that? 

The thought alone guts me so hard I feel sick.

I picture Kyla, young and terrified, raising two kids alone. Struggling. Carrying that weight on her shoulders without ever reaching out to me. Why? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Did she think I wouldn’t care? Did she think I wouldn’t show up?

Anger and heartbreak twist together inside me, choking me until I can hardly breathe.

I press my fist against my mouth to muffle the sound that rips out of me, something between a growl and a sob.

I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe. I can’t stay here, but I can’t leave either.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Elias’s face. My face. A smaller, purer version of me.

And then Chanel’s laughter echoes in my ears. She doesn’t look as much like me, but there’s still something there in her smile, in her eyes. Could she be mine too? Or was Kyla with someone else after me?

The questions are endless, each one slicing deeper than the last.

I need answers. I need them now. But I can’t just barge in there in front of the kids. I can’t lose my temper in front of them.

They think I’m just Mommy’s friend. That’s what they called me. Her friend.

And maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.

The thought nearly knocks the air out of me.

I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes again, shaking my head. No. I can’t go down that road yet. Not until I know the truth.

But the truth terrifies me more than anything else ever has.

I push myself back to my feet, pacing again, back and forth like a caged animal. Nurses glance at me as they pass, probably wondering if I’m the one who needs a room. Maybe I do.

Because I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I stop in front of her door, staring at the little nameplate with her last name printed neatly in black letters. Just on the other side of that thin wooden barrier is the woman I once loved more than anything in this world, and still love and possibly my children.

The words feel foreign in my mouth, terrifying and beautiful all at once.

I lean my forehead against the door for a moment, closing my eyes, breathing hard.

What do I do? Walk in there and casually ask, “By the way, did you forget to tell me I have a son?” No. It’s not that simple. It’s not just about me. It’s about them those kids, innocent and trusting, climbing into her lap, safe in their mother’s arms.

If I push too hard, if I explode, I could shatter their entire world.

So I bite it back. I hold it inside, even though it’s tearing me apart.

I need to know the truth, but I have no idea how to get it without breaking everything.

For the first time in years, I feel completely powerless.

And for the first time in my life, I’m terrified of the answers.