Page 8 of Stolen Dreams

I got out of bed and started to walk toward the door.“Don’t you tell me what to do in my house.”She hit him again.I saw my father hold up his hand to block her.“I fucking hate you.”Words that she repeated nightly also.

I watched her walk over to her purse and pull out a gun.I didn’t know who gasped louder, me or my father.But then she tilted her head to the side.“My life would be better without you in it.”That was the last thing she said before she pulled the trigger.I yelled out at the same time that my father grabbed his stomach, and I saw the blood pouring out of him.

“Daddy!”I screamed for him as he fell back, crashing onto the flimsy table in the middle of the living room.

His eyes went from my mother to turn to me, and his last word was, “Hide.”Then his eyes shut forever.

That night changed everything and made me an orphan.I never replay those memories except for once a year when it’s his birthday.It’s my thing to sit out and look up at the sky and tell him what has happened to me in the year.I also got totally trashed each and every single time to block out the memories that came along with it.There weren’t many, but the ones there were equally good and bad.“You good to call Pops?”Charlie asks.I look over at him, then look at the clock on the dashboard and see that it’s just a little after seven.We still have a couple of hours to go.

I nod, pulling up his number, not surprised he answers me after one and a half rings.“This is early, even for you.”He laughs into the phone.

“Hey,” I say, looking out the window at the trees passing us.“Yeah, I think you need to know about a situation.”

“I’m listening,” he replies, and I tell him about the phone call I got.

“Okay, hear me out,” he starts, “and don’t go all apeshit on me.You sure this kid is even yours?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I retort, “but I don’t think this is something that Paige would lie about.She wasn’t like that.”

“You said you haven’t seen or heard from her in nine years,” he counters.“Regardless, I’m going to call our lawyer and make sure he’s aware of the situation.I’ll call you back in twenty.”

“Got it,” I say and hang up the phone, looking back over at Charlie.“He’s going to call the lawyer.”

“Good idea.Know your rights.He might just be calling Ryleigh since she’s a family lawyer now.”I have no idea who he’s talking about, and my head is so all over the place, I don’t even want to know.

True to his word, Casey calls back in ten minutes.“Hey,” I say, putting it on speakerphone for Charlie to hear.I don’t know how much I’m going to actually absorb.“So you are probably going to have to do a DNA test since you didn’t know you were the father and didn’t have any contact with the child before now.”

“How long will that take?”I ask.

“I have contacts at a lab we can work with.I’m going to give them a call when they open.We can pay extra to have it expedited.But it might be twenty-four hours by the time it gets picked up and delivered to the lab.”I close my eyes.

“Lawyer said she’s in foster care,” I tell him.“I don’t want her in there longer than she needs to be.”

“I get you, Emmett.We’ll get you your girl, and you’ll bring her home.”Even when he says the words, it feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.What the hell am I going to do with her?I don’t know the first thing about being a father.

“We’ll call you once we meet with the lawyer,” I assure him.

“Can you send over the lawyer’s contact?In case he needs anything,” Charlie asks, and I nod because I should have asked him that.

“Will do,” he agrees, “and send me the address of where you’re going.If you need me, I’ll be on standby.”

“Doing it now,” I state, and then he disconnects.I get the lawyer's information as soon as I send the address to the lawyer’s office.

We pull up to the small house, and I look around to see if it’s the wrong address.But the front door opens, and an older gentleman comes out of the house.He’s wearing slacks and a button-down, short-sleeved white shirt.I get out of the truck and look around the little street, seeing all the houses are practically the same.“You must be Mr.Clarkson,” he says, walking down the five steps to his sidewalk, holding out his hand for me.“You must be.”He smiles as I reach out my hand to him.

“I am,” I say, “and that is my friend, Charlie Barnes.”I gesture to Charlie, who also extends his hand.

“I’m Mr.Graham,” he says softly.“Please come in.”He motions with his head toward the front door.

I look over at Charlie as we follow him up the steps.He slaps my shoulder and then squeezes it, giving me the support I didn’t know I needed.I let out my breath and walk into the house after him.

I look around and see the house is very welcoming and warm.A woman in the kitchen looks over at us and smiles.“This is my wife, Jenny,” he introduces the woman wiping her hands on a rag before coming over to me.Her face is filled with a soft smile.“It’s nice to meet you.”She nods at me.“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’m good,” I say, “but thank you.”I look over at Charlie, who replies the same.

“Shall we?”Mr.Graham says, pointing at the room off the front door.“I figured we can do this here at my home office.”He walks into the room.

The big brown desk with a matching brown chair is in the middle of the room, with a loveseat against the wall facing it and two chairs right in front of the desk.“Please, have a seat and make yourself at home.”

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