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This is Matthew, or Matty. He’s your son. He’s autistic. And while he’s an amazing child, I just can’t do it anymore. Please don’t try to look for me. I need a break. There’s a notebook in his backpack with further information about him. Good luck.
Caz
I read the letter again before staring at the child. Then read it a third time. Fucking hell. It’s the least empathetic, or sympathetic note I’ve ever read, especially considering she’s just dumped her kid on a guy she probably hasn’t seen in a while. Paige said he’s been exclusively a one night stand kind of guy for as long as she’s known him.
I swallow a few times before rereading the note in case I missed something on the first pass.
Nope, it’s every bit as cold as it was the first time over. I guess when you’re leaving your kid, you have to detach yourself from the feelings even just a little. Though I have no experience with it.
My sister’s daughter is autistic too, and I’ve been around my sister and niece enough to know that it can certainly be challenging. But to abandon her son altogether?
It’s so hard not to let judgment cloud my mind in this moment.
Thor’s voice breaks the silence as he steps out onto the porch. “Who is it?”
Handing him the piece of paper, I avoid his questioning stare. “Your son.”
CHAPTER6
Thor
If this issome kind of sick joke right now, Addison isn’t funny. A pale, blond boy stands hugging a brown pillow to his chest watching the exchange between Adi and me. Frozen in place, bone-deep cold seizes every muscle, tight bands crush my throat and chest.
What the hell is happening right now?
Glancing over the letter in my hands I wrack my brain trying to remember who the fuck Caz is. I see it. This kid looks like me, so there’s no clues in his features as to who his mother might be. Fuck. He looks like me. It’s like looking at an old photo of myself as a child, right down to the gangly limbs and the dimples in his face.
This can’t be for real. I can’t have a kid just... dropped off on my doorstep. Who the hell just drops a kid off with a note?
Fuck.
“How old are you, Matthew?” How my voice sounds so steady is anyone’s guess. It’s like I’ve swallowed a dozen hamsters and they’re all scrambling around in my body, trying to get free.
“I’m eleven.”
Caz from eleven years ago. I’ve literally got nothing. At all. And this poor kid seems to have his wordly possessions scattered around his feet.
Fuck.
One fuck is not enough for this situation. But I can’t spear my hands into my hair and scream like every cell in my body is yelling at me to do.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
What the fuck do I do with a kid?
I rake my hand through my hair, looking to Addison who won’t meet my eyes. I don’t blame her. She’s watching my life come to a screeching halt in real time. She points to the house behind me. “I’m just gonna...” She takes a step toward the open door, but stops. “Let me help you get all of this inside.”
She collects the pile of blankets to Matty’s left and hurries inside. I’m never seeing this woman again. She looks like she might keel over. We went at it pretty hard last night, and the last thing I need is for her to pass out at the wheel as she’s driving so I’m glad she’s taking the initiative to self-care.
I’m not sure how I’m going to call or text her to check up on her later after all this. But I want to. I should. Dom Thor kicks in for a faltering second. But as much as I want to take care of her, I’m trying to focus on something, anything that isn’t the damn near fully grown child ON MY FUCKING DOORSTEP.
Breathe.
