Before Him

“What about a dad. You got a dad?”

“I did have a dad. A really good one, but he died.” Yesterday or hundred years ago. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

“You must’ve been sad.”

“I was. Very sad.” And lost for a while. Not to sound too evangelical, but coming to Mookatill has changed all that. I’m not lost anymore because of what I’ve found. Of who I’ve found.

“I’m sometimes sad.” Emotion flickers over his brow, his mouth drawing down at the corners. I reckon my own expression mirrors his because, fuck, that hurts to hear.

“We all get sad sometimes. If we didn’t get sad, we wouldn’t know how fantastic the happiness feels.”

“I guess.”

“You know, sometimes I find it helps to tell people what makes you feel sad.”

“I sometimes get sad when I think about my dad.” My heart. Jesus, my heart aches for him. “Because I don’t know him.”

I want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze the sadness out of him. Tell him he’ll never be sad again because I’m here, because I’ll never leave him again. My skin runs simultaneously hot and cold, the back of my neck prickling with the uncanny notion that I know what my son is about to say.

“Are you my dad?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Did I will his question into existence? And now that the moment I’ve been waiting for is here, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I can’t lie—I won’t—but don’t I also have to respect Kennedy’s choices. I mean, I also don’t want her ripping my balls off to wear them as dangly earrings. Also, more relevant, I don’t want her using this moment as justification to keep me away.

You can’t be trusted.

You went behind my back.

You fucked up.

Like always.

“Wilder?” Kennedy’s voice results in the kid’s eyes flying wide. Jesus, she must’ve done the same witchy-mum course as Sally.

“Ruh-roh,” I say, Scooby-Doo style. I’m glad to see the reference isn’t too dated as Wilder’s expression morphs into a smile. “We’re in for it now.”

Weird, but I do hear these footsteps in the grass, maybe because they’re hurried and faltering. Then her panicked gaze meeting mine over the kid’s head.

“You know you’re not supposed to be over here.” Her gaze dips briefly to Wilder before she glares my way.

“His soccer ball flew over the hedge.” I straighten from my perch, my dad’s advice of always meeting trouble on your feet echoing in my ear. “You’ve got a powerful right foot, right little mate?” He nods as I ruffle his hair, but the movement is almost reluctant. I’m already a bad influence getting him to lie to his mother, but we have bigger problems. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here because Wilder here just asked me a question.” I press my hand to his shoulder in solidarity. I’m here, little mate. I’ll always be here for you from this moment on. “A very important question.”

“Oh.” I know she’s picking up what I’ve put down. Her expression runs through a gamut of emotions, her eyes turning glassy. “Oh, Wilder, baby.”

“I heard Jenner call you baby daddy,” he says quickly. I’ll save my told you so for later, smiling as he tips his head to look up at me. “And my mom calls me her baby.” His attention slides to his mother, blue eyes meeting pained. “I just did the math.”

“You said yourself he was sharp.” My eyes meet Kennedy’s as I squat down in front of him. She looks kind of tortured. When she nods, a great gusting breath leaves my chest.

“Yes.” She whispers her endorsement, her eyes kind of pleading. And fuck it, who said real men don’t cry?

“Yeah, I am your dad,” I declare, trying not to bawl like a baby and mostly managing. I take his pudgy little hand in mine and rub my thumb over the baby-fat dimpled knuckles. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to find you again.”

“Did you lose us?” he asks, his expression so fucking solemn.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat and swallow. “Yeah, I lost you.” Both, I lost you both, I silently intone, trying so fucking hard not to look at her. “But now I’m here, I’ll never ever lose you again, I promise.”

“You’re really my dad? Don’t worry, I don’t want pocket money or anything.”

A split second later, I’ve pulled him into my arms—I couldn’t help it. I’m laughing and crying at the same time and so bloody stoked.

“Backdated pocket money,” I splutter. “The kid’s gonna bankrupt me!”

23

Kennedy

PRESENT

A PIECE OF WORK

“Why didn’t you come to me?” I ask, smothering Wilder’s dark head with kisses. “Have you been worrying about this? All by yourself?” My stomach twists with the thought of it, guilt pressing like a heavy stone against my chest as I draw my arms tighter around him. Am I so self-involved? How could I not know? If I hadn’t been such a chicken, Wilder wouldn’t have had to make sense of this himself. Also, I am going to kill Jenner. Very, very slowly with a spoon. Then I’m going to feed tiny pieces of his flesh to Moose. Who probably won’t eat him anyway, the fussy asshole. “I’m sorry,” I say on a sob, pulling him in for another hug.