The Storm (The Storm 3.5)

“We’ll be fine, Jake,” she tells me. “Just answer the call.”

My chest lifts on a breath.

Taking a step back, I let my ass hit a breakfast stool as I connect the call, putting my cell to my ear. “Jerry.”

Tru comes and sits on the stool beside mine. I turn in my seat to face her, and I take her hand in mine.

“Jake, hi. Look, I won’t beat around the bush, as I know how important this is to you and Tru. Storm…he isn’t yours.”

I blow out an audible breath, all tension dropping from my body. “I knew it.”

From my response, Tru knows the result. I see the relief spread from her eyes to across her face.

I bring her hand to my mouth, and I kiss it.

The next thought in my mind is, Is he Jonny’s?

I know Jerry won’t know the answer to that question, so I don’t bother asking.

“Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate you calling.”

I hang up my cell, dropping it back on the counter.

A second later, Tru has her arms around me, her face buried in my neck. I can feel her relief rolling off of her in waves. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.

“He’s not mine,” I say the words out loud. It’s like I’m taking my first breath in days.

She squeezes me tighter. I hold her harder.

“I’m sorry I put you through this,” I say, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She moves back a touch, staring into my eyes. “You didn’t put me through this, Jake. It wasn’t something you knowingly did. It was your past that came back to try to hurt us. I accepted your past and that possibility a long time ago, Jake. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She brushes her fingers over my cheek. “I know how hard these last few days have been on you. And I’m proud of you and how strong you’ve been.”

I know what she’s saying. She’s proud of me because I didn’t fall back on old habits to get me through this.

I never would have. I have too much to lose.

“I smoked,” I tell her. “A lot.” More than she knows about.

“What’s a lot?”

“Two cartons.” I grimace.

The corner of her lip lifts. “I can see past the cigarettes—so long as they’re not a permanent fixture.”

“They’re not, but I might need some nicotine patches for the next week.”

I grin, and she laughs.

And I fucking love the sound. I’ve hated not hearing her laugh during these past few days. The house sounded so quiet without her joy filling it.

The smile on her face quickly disappears, and her gaze dips. “Jake…I’m happy that Storm isn’t yours. Does that make me a bad person?” She bites her lower lip. “I mean, his mother is dying, and he’s going to be all alone. For my own selfish reasons, I’m relieved that he’s not your son, and—”

“Stop it. It doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human, sweetheart.” I cup her cheek with my hand, forcing her eyes up to mine. “I’m relieved, too.”

She stares at me for a long moment. Then, she leans in close and softly kisses me. “So…does this mean that he’s Jonny’s?”

I blow out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, babe.” I meet her eyes again. “But I need to know.”

“Call Bob, and find out,” she tells me.

Tru goes to move back to her stool, but I stop her with my arm around her waist, holding her there. I need her close, for whichever way this call goes.

I pick up my cell and dial Bob’s number.

It rings for a long while. My stomach is churning, my heart pounding the whole time.

“Jake?” Bob’s voice comes down the line. It sounds unsteady, almost like he’s been crying.

Fuck.

My heart beats even harder. I feel like it’s going to come out of my ribs. I’m more anxious for his results than I was for my own.

“Yeah, it’s me. I-I got my results. Storm…he’s not mine. Do you…do you have your results back?”

“Yeah. My lawyer called a few minutes ago. Jake, he’s…” His voice catches and breaks.

My stomach bottoms out.

“Bob?”

“He’s Jonny’s. He’s Jonny’s son.”

He’s Jonny’s son.

I have…I have Jonny back—well, a part of him at least.

Then, something happens to me that hasn’t happened in a very long time.

I start to cry.

“Jonny has a son?”

The disbelief in Tom’s voice mirrors the look on Denny’s face. And it resonates the sound my own voice had this morning.

“Yeah, man, he does.” I nod.

“I…Jesus Christ.” Tom’s voice breaks.

“How did you find out? When did you find out?” Denny cuts in, taking the heat off an obviously struggling Tom.

“I found out this morning that he is Jonny’s son. A few days ago, a lawyer contacted Stuart about a paternity suit against me and also Jonny. The mom’s a groupie from back in the early days. She wasn’t sure if the father was Jonny or me. I did a DNA test, and so did Jonny’s dad. We got the results a few hours ago.”

“This was why Tru was all upset and pissed off when she came around to see Simone the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” Denny breathes out.

“What’s his name?” Tom asks me. His voice is off, sounding exactly like I did when I found out that he was Jonny’s.

“Storm.”

“Good name.” Denny gives me a knowing look.

“How old is he?” That’s Tom again.

“Thirteen.”

“When can we meet him?”

“I’m flying out to New York tomorrow to see Bob. Then, I’m taking him to meet Storm. I guess…we can arrange for something after that. We just have to take this one slowly.”

Tipping his head back, Tom presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing at them.

This has hit him hard—about as hard as it hit me. Denny is struggling, too. He’s just always been able to handle shit better than Tom and I can.

“You doing okay?” I reach over and squeeze Tom’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” He drops his hands, blowing out a breath. “I just—fuck. It’s just surreal, you know? I mean, I know Jonny’s gone, but it’s like getting a part of him back.”

“I know, man.” I give his shoulder one last squeeze and then remove my hand.

“Does he look like Jonny?” Tom asks.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I haven’t seen a picture of him.”

“Why now?” Denny pipes up. “Why is the mother just coming forward now? Does she want money?”

My eyes meet with Denny’s. “She’s dying.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Denny exhales.

“Yeah.” I know what he’s thinking. Storm’s mother is dying, and now, he’s going to find out that his father is already dead.

“She’s the only family he has…well, had,” I add.

“Damn fucking right, had. He has us now. We’re his family.” Tom slams his hand down on the table.