Page 52 of Pucking Fate

“Is Christian really my father?”

His question hits me like a freight train.

My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I can’t speak. The container of blueberries slips from my hands, spilling all over the floor.

Finley’s big, innocent eyes are staring right at me, waiting for an answer, and I have no idea what to say.

I always knew this day would come, but I wasn’t ready for it to be today. Not now. Not like this.

And I’m going to kill Christian Riley!

Last night when I got home, I knew something was wrong. Finley rarely goes to bed early without a fight, and Christian is never in such a hurry to leave, barely asking me about my interview before running out.

“Wh-why do you ask that, sweetheart?”

Finley shrugs, looking down at the table. “Last night he said he’s my father and that he lied to me all summer!”

I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. “Christian cares about you so much, Finley,” I say slowly, carefully choosing my words when I take a seat next to him at the table. “He…yes, he’s your father. But at first, you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. So, I asked him to get to know you as friends this summer. I wanted you to spend time with him before we told you.”

“Why didn’t he come play with me before this summer?”

I can’t lie to him. I won’t. Even if I’m furious with Christian for not warning me about the bomb he dropped on our son.

“That was my fault, not Christian’s,” I tell him. “You see, Christian left. He moved away to play hockey when I found out I was pregnant with you. And then I didn’t see him again until recently. You remember the day he came to the championship game with a jersey for you?”

Finley nods his head.

“That was right after he found out he was your father. He didn’t know before then or he would’ve been around more, I promise. So, that’s my fault for not finding him to tell him sooner so you could spend time together.”

“But…you and him aren’t married.”

“No, baby. We’re not married. Christian was best friends and teammates with Uncle Preston, and we were friends too. I cared about him so much before he had to leave.”

Finley stares at me for a moment, processing my words. Then he nods as if he understands more than I expected him to. “Does that mean he’s gonna keep coming over?” he asks, his voice small, like he’s afraid of the answer.

I feel my heart tighten. “Of course he’ll keep coming over. But he’ll have to go back to Greensboro soon to play for the Bobcats. We’ll go visit him when we visit Uncle Preston. And I bet he’ll call you whenever he can.”

Finley seems to accept that answer for now, but the question lingers in the air, heavy and unresolved about how much of a presence he’ll have in our life.

“Do you have any other questions about Christian?”

He shakes his head, so I give him another moment just to be sure. Finally, he asks, “Is Christian coming over to play today?”

“Do you want him to?”

“Yes. But I’m still mad at him.”

Oh, I know that feeling well.

“It’s okay to be mad or sad or anything else you feel right now,” I tell him as I give him a hug, thankful when he hugs me back. “It’s okay to be all those things and still want to spend time with Christian. He loves spending time with you.”

“I like playing with him too,” Finley says when I let him go. “And it’s pretty cool that out of all the dads in the world, he’s mine.”

“Yes, that is very cool,” I tell him before I get up and finish making him pancakes.

While I’m still a little uneasy about how Finley will handle this monumental revelation, I’m so damn relieved that it’s finally out in the open, off my shoulders.

For years, I was so focused on protecting myself, on keeping my heart locked away, that I didn’t think about what’s best for Finley.

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