Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
I get to the third page titled “DNA Test Report” and there’s a table filled with numbers I can’t even begin to understand, but I keep scrolling to the bottom until I find the words Probability of Paternity: 99.98%
My whole fucking world stops, everyone fading out of reality around me as I become locked in the moment, staring at the too bright screen.
99.98%
Fuck.
I shake my head, barely breathing.
How could I be the father? I used a condom, and fuck, I don’t even remember finishing. She was a dud lay, and I was bored after three minutes. This can’t be right. I can’t be her child’s father, but this test is saying I am, and who the fuck am I to question it?
I’m eighteen, not even having finished high school, and I’ve got a one-year-old son. A son whose first year I’ve been absent for.
FUCK. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Colby was my child’s uncle, his flesh and blood, and I’m the man responsible for murdering him. I killed my own son’s uncle, my child’s family. What kind of monster am I?
My stomach twists and I heave, needing to throw up, but I hold it down and grip my phone tighter before racing out of the locker room. “Yo, Tanner. Where the hell are you going?” I hear Hudson calling after me. “We’ve got a fucking game.”
Running through the school, I race toward the field, my gaze snapping from side to side, trying to find that one person through the thick crowd climbing the grandstand. I search desperately, my heart racing faster than ever before as panic takes over. My knees fall to the grass, and I barely catch myself, the screen of my phone still staring up at me with the haunting DNA results.
“Tanner?” I hear in the distance. “TANNER!”
A set of soft hands grip my arms, pulling me to my feet. I can’t find the words, but her hands move to my face, forcing my stare away from the phone, her bright blue eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” Bri rushes out, swaying as people shoulder past us to fill the grandstands, desperate to find seats before one of the biggest games of the season.
I take her waist, pulling her in closer, unable to look away from her frightened eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating the thought of breaking her heart, but I can’t keep this from her. I have to tell her. It’s me and Brielle against the fucking world. Who am I if I don’t have her in my corner? “I never thought … I didn’t—”
“Tanner, breathe,” she says calmly, her hand sliding down my arm and gripping my hand. “What’s going on?”
“The paternity test,” I tell her, my voice shaky, knowing damn well she has every right to walk away from this. I hand her my phone, watching as her brows furrow and she turns it around to look at the screen. “I’m sorry. I … I’m his father.”
Bri sucks in a silent gasp, and I see the hurt in her eyes. She keeps her stare locked on the screen, reading over the words a million times just as I had, and a part of me wonders if it’s because it’s too hard for her to look me in the eyes. “It’s okay,” she finally says, glancing up, trying to hold herself together. “The second Rachael came to the door, we knew this could be a possibility. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We just need to figure ourselves out.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” I question, keeping my voice low as to not break the news to the whole fucking school.
Bri shakes her head, her grip tightening on my hand. “I don’t know,” she confesses, her voice breaking. “But what choice do we have? I know you, Tanner. You can’t mess this up. It’s not possible. You’re this kid’s father and you’re going to be his whole world, but right now, you have a game to get through. Focus on that and being the best fucking quarterback this town has ever seen, then when we get home, we can start working on this. Until then, just know that I love you.”
I shake my head, my heart breaking as I confess what’s buried deep inside. “I missed the first year of my kid’s life. Fuck, I don’t even know his name.”
She pushes up onto her tippy toes and presses a kiss to my lips. “And you’ll make up for it,” she tells me. “You don’t need to be afraid of this. You’re the most incredible, amazing person I know, and this little boy is going to be lucky to have you in his life.”
“You sure?” I question, absolutely terrified.
Bri nods. “I’ve never been so sure. It’s not being a father you need to fear, it’s getting home and having to tell your mom.”