“He’s still asleep. I’m worried. He passed out at like eight last night. It’s nearly seven in the morning. Do you think it’s his cancer? What if he isn’t sleeping?” I stand quickly and knock my mug over from tilting the table, but I don’t care. “What if he is in a coma?” I scrub my hands down my face and begin to walk out of the kitchen when Jaxon grabs me.
He throws a rag against my face, and I catch it before it falls and hits the ground. “Clean that up, and no, it isn’t his cancer. There’s a time difference. He went to sleep eleven his time. He’s just exhausted. Give it a few more hours before you start worrying.”
I chuckle as I clean up my mess. “Stop worrying? It’s all I’ve done is worry. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I’m afraid he’ll stop breathing, man. I have a kid, and he’s sick.” I scrub the floor harder, taking my anger out on it instead of using someone’s face.
Jaxon squats beside me and stops my hand from attempting to dig a hole. “I know. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I want us to celebrate that he’s here. Whatever happens, we’re in this together, okay? You aren’t alone. You feel overwhelmed? You feel angry? You feel sad? Come to me. We aren’t going to let this win. Right now, don’t think of him as a sick son. Think of him as a son. I know the chances of him surviving this are ten percent, but you know what? We’ve made things happen on less odds. He can beat this.” Jaxon wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a side hug.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“I know,” he says, sipping his coffee loudly.
The buzzer rings, and Jaxon and I look toward the door. He presses against a secret compartment door against the bottom of the table and pulls out a gun with a silencer attached. Damn, I forgot that was there.
Weapons are all over the house like that now that I think about it.
“I’m getting really tired of that damn doorbell ringing,” he speaks as we stand in unison.
“Me too. I swear if it’s someone else saying I have a kid, this time I’m asking for a paternity test,” I say off-handedly as we walk toward the closed door.
Jaxon aims his gun in the middle of the door and presses a button to the screen. It comes to life, and there’s a girl there, soaked to the bone, and she’s looking around like she’s lost. “Who the hell is that?”
“I don’t know. Never seen her before.” I would know if I have. The woman is gorgeous. She’s obviously young, but her beauty can’t be missed. Her hair is slathered against her head from the rain and she has big eyes staring into the camera that’s hanging in the corner of the garage.
Jaxon presses the green button for the third time in two days, which is three too many in such a short amount of time, and exhales. “Lady, do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I really need to speak to Grayson.”
Jaxon takes his fingers off the switch and stares at me with wide eyes. “Is she…”
“No, she isn’t my daughter. I would have had to have been like fourteen.”
“Yeah, so?” Jaxon asks. “When did you lose your virginity.”
“Thirteen—no—I’m not having you get in my head. It’s impossible for her to be my daughter. I can’t handle more fucking news like that.” I push Jaxon out of the way and decide to cut to the chase. “This is Grayson. Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Grayson?” She smiles, and her youth shows as she bounces on her feet, clutching the straps of her backpack. “It’s so good to hear your voice. It’s me. It’s Finley. Can we talk? We have a lot to talk about.”
I lift my finger off the button, shocked and fucking fuming. This bitch lied to me. I hear Jaxon mutter a question, but I’m too blind with rage as I stare at the young girl’s face in the camera. I unlock the door, take the gun out of Jaxon’s hand, and slap my palm on the garage door opener.
And aim.
As the door opens, her dirty shoes come to view first, then her tight jeans hugging her body, settling low around her hips. The rain has plastered her shirt against her, emphasizing the curves of her small tits.
And then the smile on her face shows, nearly bowling me over with how beautiful she is. When she sees I’m aiming a gun at her, the smile fades away, and she holds up her hands. The rain is coming down, drenching her from head to toe, and I hate that I can’t stop looking at her. I should be thankful I never sent some of the photos I wanted to.
I would be in jail.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask her and when she takes step forward, I cock the gun. “Don’t move. Was this a set up? Who are you, and why are you here?” What if Finley was never real? What if I was supposed to be set up by someone so I would get sent back to prison? I fucking knew that dating app was a bad move. I knew it because if I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.
“Please, we have a lot to talk about. Don’t shoot me. I can’t apologize enough for lying about my age. Can we talk? That’s all I’m asking for, Isaac.” The way she says my middle name, throwing my own lie back at me, almost has my finger pulling the trigger.
“Don’t even try to compare our lies. Isaac is my middle name, and Gray is part of my first. The only liar here is you.”
“Is that so? Officer Howard said
