Page 10 of 23 Hours

Another sucker slips between his goatee-encircled lips as Gunz leans back on the stool and drums his fingers against the edge of the table. “That I might be his father.” Those very words cause his cheek to twitch before he looks away like he can’t stand the sight of me. Not that I blame him. This isn’t my proudest moment.

Holding nothing back, I pull up my big girl panties and give him what needs to be given. “I knew my husband… ex-husband, wasn’t his dad when he was fourteen.”

Gunz flinches, and his nostrils flare at the news. “That was eight fuckin’ years ago.”

The scorching flame of regret, self-loathing, and remorse licks up my spine—a stark reminder of what I’ve done. A knot of shame coils low in my belly, forming into a jagged rock battering my insides.

I suck in a sharp breath as I push the tender spot with my hand, hoping the pain subsides soon.

Then I forge ahead, hating what the news must be doing to Gunz, too. I force my feelings down deep, to deal with later when I have time to reflect. This isn’t about me. This is about Gunz and Adam. About owning our truths.

“I know,” I agree with a solitary nod. To some, eight years seems like a long time. To me, it doesn’t. Not when you’re a single mom. Not when you have to pick up the pieces of your life after your husband up and abandons his family in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again. The house, the cars, parenting, all of it was left for me to handle on my own. With Adam and his issues, eight years feels like the blink of an eye.

With practiced ease, Gunz removes his leather vest and hangs it on his stool. “Whydid you wait eight years to contact me?” His intense gaze sears into mine, seeking a valid reply. Not an excuse. Not a bullshit sob story. My past isn’t his problem any more than his past is mine. I’m not here to be a victim.

I rest my elbows on the Formica, my hands clasped together, and keep things simple. “Eli came up as a match a few months ago. I didn’t know how else to find you, or I would have.” It was happenstance, a one-in-a-million chance of finding Adam’s father. I was grasping at any straw I could find. Doing what I had to do. Pretending the best I could that my son’s life wasn’t already circling the drain.

He chuckles without humor, eyebrows pinched in the center. “Please excuse me if I don’t buy into this shit.”

Fair enough. That’s his right.

“I understand.” And I do. Whatever he’s feeling must be intense. Rightfully so.

“Do you really?” His head tilts to the side as he scrutinizes me, to draw his own conclusions. There’s an intensity there, an intelligence dissecting every word I say, every movement I make. I try not to let it get to me, but it’s difficult.

I begin to sweat, the back of my old band t-shirt sticking to my spine and shoulders.

“Yes. I would feel the same if I were you. I do have the paperwork in my truck if you want to see it.” In hindsight, I should’ve stuck it in my back pocket the moment I climbed out of the truck cab.

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“When Adam gets out, you can do whatever you need for confirmation.” More DNA testing, more of anything he wants, I’m happy to oblige. If I wasn’t already certain, I wouldn’t be here. Trust me, just looking at the man is evidence enough.

He nods as if what I said is good enough for now. A heavy, emotional breath expels from a set of full lips. “So, you’re here for…” Trailing off, Gunz runs a palm over his bald head. Some things never change. When I first met him, he looked the same as he does now—inked and gorgeous with well-kept facial hair and a wicked smile that would make any woman spread her legs. Like the finest wine, years have done him well. Very well.

Doing my best not to stare, I keep my tone easy to avoid sympathy for what I’m about to say. “When my ex found out Adam wasn’t his, he… didn’t just divorce me. He left us both. It was like he didn’t care that he’d raised Adam for years. He couldn’t get past what I’d done.”

The eyebrow crinkle is back and joining the party, as is a small bulging vein in his forehead. “Seriously? He just left his fuckin’ kid.” Jerking upright, Gunz’s shoulders tense as he growls his contempt on Adam’s behalf. I’m grateful for the outburst more than I should be. It’s more than I deserve.

“Yes.” Picturing that awful night in my head, as if it happened just yesterday, I scratch the top of my jeans, rocking in my seat, hating the way Jeremy’s loss unearths ugly, catastrophic feelings I don’t wish to relive. “It was bad. I didn’t know Adam wasn’t his until he did. After that, Adam just… Well, he started getting into a lot of trouble. He was always different from the rest of us. Always tinkering with things. Always moving. Too smart for his own good. A daredevil of sorts.”

The once anger is replaced with a cool biker nod as Gunz repositions himself on the stool—relaxing. “Okay… Go on.”

“I had to pull him from school his sophomore year for hacking the school’s computer system and planting a virus that made the bells go off every sixty-nine seconds. They only agreed not to press charges when they needed him to fix the issue, since they couldn’t.” Homeschooling took precedence after that, but he did graduate with passing grades. I made sure of it. Long nights were spent at the kitchen table.

Gunz chuckles and strokes his goatee in a way that suggests he likes what he hears. “Smart guy.”

“Too smart, like I said.”

“Then what happened?”

“Are you sure you want to hear all this?” I didn’t come here to take a stroll down memory lane. Not this soon anyhow.

“He’s my son, is he not?”

My heart warms at his admission. “Yes. But I didn’t mean to rehash his messy teenage years. Only ask that maybe you could visit him in jail and talk him into getting his life together.” Anything to keep him out of trouble. When you’re a kid, things aren’t taken as seriously as they are now. Adam’s adult record is already sprinkled with misdemeanors. Can you imagine what it’ll look like in three years, or ten, if he keeps going at the rate he is?

“What’d he do this time, and how long is he down for?” Gunz sounds genuinely concerned.

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