Page 7 of Echo’s Secret

"I didn't know that." I wipe at my face with my free hand. "I still don't know that. I don't know anything about your life. You never told me everything about what you do here. I never asked because I could tell you didn't want me to. We kept walls between us the entire time, and maybe that's why it felt safe."

He looks at me for a long moment. Then at Theo, who is starting to get fussy because it's past his morning nap time and this is all too much stimulation.

"Forty-two thousand total," Wesley says. "You need twenty-four more to reach that."

I nod.

"And the surgery is in two weeks."

"Yes."

He stands and walks to the filing cabinet, pulls out the top drawer, and removes something. When he turns back around, he's holding a checkbook.

My heart lurches. "Wesley, I'm not asking you to just give me money. That's not why I came. I just… I needed someone, and you're the only person I've ever known who felt like—" I stop because I don't know how to finish that sentence.

"Felt like what?" He sits back down on the edge of the desk, pen in hand.

"Like maybe you'd stay," I whisper. "Even if it was just long enough to help me figure this out."

Theo starts crying in earnest now. I bounce him, shushing him, but he's tired and scared because I'm scared and babies can sense that.

Wesley sets down the pen and holds out his arms. "Can I?"

I hesitate. Then nod. He takes Theo, supporting his head and body like he knows what he's doing even though he's never held his own son before right this moment.

Theo stops crying almost immediately. Stares up at Wesley with those gray eyes that mirror his father's perfectly. Wesley stares back with the same serious expression.

"Hey," Wesley says, so soft I almost don't hear it. "I'm your dad. I know you don't know that yet, but that's what I am. And your mom brought you here because she needed help and she didn't know where else to go. So, we're going to help. You understand?"

Theo makes a gurgling sound that might be agreement or might just be gas.

Wesley looks at me. "I'm writing the check. For all of it. Forty-two thousand."

"Wesley, no. That's too much. I can pay you back somehow, I'll—"

"You'll take the money," he interrupts, still quiet but firm. "And you'll get our son the surgery he needs. And then we're going to figure out what comes after that."

"What do you mean what comes after?"

"I mean you're not leaving." He says it like it's obvious. Like there's no other possibility. "You're staying here. At the clubhouse. Where I can keep you both safe and help with whatever Theo needs."

"Wesley, I can't just move into a biker clubhouse. I have a life. A job. An apartment."

"You have two jobs you're working yourself to death at and an apartment you probably can't afford anymore because you spent everything on medical bills." His voice stays level. "And our son has a heart condition that requires constant monitoring. You need help. I'm offering it."

"I don't want charity."

"This isn't charity. This is me taking care of my family." He says it so simply. Like it's already decided. "You came here asking for help. I'm giving it. But I'm not just writing a check and sending you away. I'm a father now. I want to be part of his life."

"You don't even know him."

"Then let me get to know him." Wesley looks down at Theo, who has grabbed onto his shirt with tiny fists. "Let me be here for the surgery. For the recovery. For whatever comes next..."

I want to argue. Want to say I can handle it myself, that I don't need anyone, that letting him help means opening myself up to getting hurt when he eventually leaves.

But I'm so tired. And Theo needs surgery. And Wesley is offering exactly what I came here hoping for even though I didn't let myself believe it was possible.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "Okay. We'll stay. For now. Until after the surgery and he's stable."