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Braden
I got home from guys’ night later than I was intending. It was nice having a distraction. Nick and Vince even managed to get me laughing eventually, and I reveled in it. But as I stroll in the front door of my house, that peace washes away.
“Hey, honey,” my mom calls from the kitchen where she and my dad are chatting and drinking tea.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
My mom immediately stands up and walks over to me. “What’s wrong?”
Fuck, I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.
I rub a hand over my face, then gesture for her to sit down again. I sit down too, and they both stare at me.
“All right, I don’t know exactly how to say this, so I’m just going to… I got a letter from Seneca County Court about—about me possibly being the father of Maddie’s baby.”
My dad opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand. “I never knew she was pregnant. And I—I hope it’s not the case. I thought we were more than safe. Safer than I ever was with Maia. But we had sex, so it’s not impossible. I know you might be angry with me, but I—” My voice breaks, and I hate it. I’m still not good at asking for help, at letting people in. But my therapist reminded me it’s important, so I’m trying. With a deep breath in and out, I say, “I need your support right now. I’m really scared and—”
“Of course, honey,” my mom says, giving my hand a squeeze. “We’re here for you.”
I glance at my dad, who shakes his head. “Well, son of a bitch. If we have another grandkid, we’ll figure it out.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
“Do you want us to go with you when you have to go to court?” my mom asks.
I give a little nod. Because I don’t want to do this alone. I don’t want to do it at all. But I don’t have a choice.
“I, um, I’m really tired. I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Sure. Get some rest,” Mom says.
“Goodnight,” my father says.
“Night.”
When I get to my room, I collapse on my bed. Grabbing my phone, I turn the screen on and let my finger hover over the message app. The only person I truly want to talk to about this is the one I can’t talk to. I hate this.
I turn the screen back off and stare at the ceiling. A month ago, I was happy and felt like I was finally growing into myself, finding my way. Now everything is starting to feel like a downward spiral again, and I hate it. It reminds me of last year—of the guy I never want to be again.
I pull my jeans off and slide under the covers, turning onto my side. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
