Chapter 22

Christian

I grip the steering wheel tighter. Can’t this red light hurry up? My knuckles whiten as I stare at the notification on my phone. Motion detected at front door. In the accompanying photo, Taylor Hearst sits hunched on my front step, waiting. A woman I barely know yet can’t shake.

My finger hovers over the live feed from the Ring camera. I tap the screen, and the image loads, grainy at first, then clearer. Taylor, the mother of my child, is a stranger to me in all the ways that matter. She still sits on the top step, arms folded across her chest, clearly impatient.

What the hell is she doing here?

She’s a walking reminder of the worst parts of myself—the reckless nights, the meaningless encounters, the carelessness I wore like armor.

I stare at Taylor as though the act of watching her will somehow jog my memory. But there’s nothing, just emptiness where those memories should be. Addison wasn’t planned. She was a consequence—a beautiful, unexpected consequence—but a consequence of my own failure to be responsible, to take my life seriously.

How could I have let it happen? How could I not have known?

A honk behind me jars me back to the present, and I continue driving as rain streaks down the windshield. Addison could’ve grown up without me ever being in her life. And now her mother reappears? As if she can undo the damage she’s done.

Could this be a scam for money?

Taylor doesn’t belong here.

But then again, neither do I, not in this version of my life, not in this role of father. I’m still learning how to be steady, how to be someone Addison can depend on. Some days, I still feel like the man who doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he doesn’t have to feel anything himself. But I can’t be that person anymore. I don’t want to. Addison deserves more, and so do I.

When I get to my alley, I look back at the screen. Taylor shifts slightly, glancing at her phone, unaware of my silent surveillance. Does she ever think about that night? Does she remember what I can’t?

I can’t quite bring myself to ask, as facing those answers means facing my own failures. But for Addison, I have to try.

I pull into the garage behind my townhouse and park in my dimly lit space. Before I can even gather my thoughts, I’m pulling up the app on my phone to check the front door. Taylor is still waiting. Scrolling through contacts, I find my family attorney, Miller Crawford, and dial.

“Miller,” I say the moment he picks up, “it’s Christian.”

“I have good news,” he replies.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve spoken with a judge. A restraining order against Franklin Richards has been issued and will be delivered this afternoon.” There’s a pause, a shuffling of papers on his end. “The order is crystal clear. If he posts any of the photos, he’ll be prosecuted for harassment.”

I sigh, one layer of tension peeling away. Legal protection for Hailey is now in place. “Thanks. That’s one less thing to worry about.”

“Always here to help. Anything else you need?”

I look up at the ceiling of the garage and clench my jaw. “Taylor Hearst is sitting on my front doorstep.”

“I’ll be right there,” he says. “Please don’t engage with her until I arrive. I can be at your place in fifteen minutes. I’ll let you know when I drive up.”

“Understood. I’ll wait for you.”

As I disconnect the call, I lean back against the seat and my fingers tap against the leather, a staccato beat to accompany the racing of my thoughts. Taylor’s return, the restraining order, the ever-present weight of responsibility—how did I get here? I stew on that for a few minutes and then with a deep breath, I gather my resolve and step out of the car, ready to face whatever the day may yet hold.

I walk into the house and wait some more, glancing at the Ring feed. Taylor’s still there. Waiting. Like she has any right to.

The doorbell chimes again, echoing through the townhouse. I take a deep breath, but fortunately, my phone also vibrates. Miller is three minutes out. I wait impatiently until I see him pull up outside, and then I open the front door just as Taylor’s hand rises, about to knock again.

Relief flickers across her face, quickly replaced by annoyance. Her arms fold across her chest, a protective gesture that tells me this won’t be easy.

“Christian. Why didn’t you answer the door?” Her voice is sharp, accusatory.

Like she has any right to question me. I gesture to the camera above the door, keeping my voice calm. “I was out when you rang. I saw you on the camera. Figured this was important enough to involve legal counsel.”

Her eyes flick toward the camera, then to the man now standing behind her—Miller, briefcase in hand, suit immaculate.

Her posture stiffens. “Legal counsel?” Her voice is tight. “I only came to see my daughter. Why do you need a lawyer for that?”

I don’t respond immediately. Instead, I take a step forward, folding my arms across my chest, mimicking her stance. She wants to play this game like we’re equals, like we have the same rights. But we don’t. “You came all the way from Los Angeles just to see Addison?” I ask. The silence between us stretches, thick with tension. I don’t fill it. I want her to squirm.

“I…” she starts, then stops, her eyes flitting to Miller. “I needed to see her. It’s been too long.”

I raise an eyebrow, keeping my expression neutral. “Too long? You didn’t seem to think it was too long when you dropped her off with Erica and disappeared for months. You forfeited the right to see her the moment you decided chasing your dreams in LA was more important than your child.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “It wasn’t like that. It was only supposed to be for a few days. I landed a paying part. I didn’t know it would take this long. But now, I’m back, and I intend to stay.”

I laugh at that. “You’re back? You were gone longer than you expected? And what was the plan before that, Taylor? Were you hoping I’d never find out I was a father?”

She flinches. “I didn’t tell you because…” She pauses. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Trapped? You didn’t want me to feel trapped? Or you didn’t want to be trapped? There’s a difference.”

Her gaze falters, dropping to the ground for a moment before she looks back up, defiance creeping into her voice. “I did what I thought was best at the time.”

“And now what? You expect to just waltz back into Addison’s life like nothing happened?”

She takes a step forward, her voice rising. “I’m her mother, Christian. I have the right to see her.”

The words hang between us, but it’s what she’s not saying that sticks in my throat. She is Addison’s mother, and that gives her a claim. But where was she when Addison was hospitalized with endocarditis? Where was she when our daughter cried in the middle of the night? There’s a whole lot Taylor hasn’t been a part of, and now, she wants to pick up the pieces when it suits her.

“You lost that right when you left her behind,” I say. “You made your choice.”

Taylor’s eyes harden. “I didn’t choose to leave her. I needed to earn a living to keep a roof over our head and food in our mouths.”

I snort. “Partying in LA puts a roof over your head and food in your mouths? I saw the drugs. I hired a PI, and I’ve got pictures.”

Her face pales. “You don’t know anything about my life in LA,” she whispers, but her voice lacks conviction.

“I know enough,” I say. “And I know Addison deserves better.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes growing glossy. “I didn’t plan for it to go this way,” she says softly, almost pleading. “I didn’t want this.”

“And yet here we are.” I cross my arms, my stance firm. “What do you want, Taylor? What do you really want?”

Her eyes snap to mine, blazing. “I want to see my daughter. I want to be in her life.”

I meet her gaze, unflinching. “And I want to protect her.”

I turn to Miller, who hands me an envelope, which I extend toward her. “Sign the papers. You can walk away with a clean slate. A hundred thousand dollars, and you don’t ever have to worry about Addison again.”

Taylor’s eyes drop to the envelope in my hand. She looks hurt, betrayed. But there’s something else too. She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “You think you can just buy me off? Erase me from her life with a check? I’m a good mother.”

Her words sting, but I let them roll over me, cold, detached. “It’s your way out, Taylor. Take it. She’s happy with Hailey. She’s thriving.”

Her hands hang at her sides, fists clenched as she stares at the envelope. The silence stretches, and then, with a bitter smile, she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I’m not giving up my daughter.”

Without another word, she turns and walks away, her figure disappearing as she turns the corner.

Miller steps forward with me as I return to the house, and the door swings closed. “You did the right thing,” he assures me.

“Like you did with my father?” The question leaps from my lips before I can catch it.

“Yes,” Miller replies with a sigh. “These situations are never easy. But you have to protect Addison, just like your grandfather wanted to protect you.”

His words are meant to comfort me, but I’m not so sure I was protected, which makes me question my choice here too.

“Let me know when she returns,” Miller says. “Because we know she will.”

I nod as he gathers his things and returns to his car. Once alone, I collapse onto the nearest chair, the fight draining from my body. I should feel relieved. I handled it. Miller handled it. But did he?

Taylor’s face—the hurt, the desperation—floats before me. I wanted to feel justified, vindicated, but all I feel is…uncertain. Taylor is clearly struggling, yet once upon a time, she cared for Addison.

My mind drifts, unbidden, back to my grandfather. He thought he was protecting me too. That’s what he told me, years later, when I demanded answers, and that’s what Miller said too. He thought he was doing the right thing, just like I did today.

But my father leaving didn’t protect me. It broke something in me. I spent years trying to make sense of it, trying to prove I didn’t need him. But the truth is, I did. And now, facing my own choices, I’m terrified that Addison will feel the same way about me, that no matter what I do, I’ll end up failing her the same way my father and grandfather failed me.

I rub my hands over my face, groaning into my palms. The weight of it all feels crushing. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. But the more I try to control things, to protect Addison, the more I see myself in my grandfather’s shoes. And that terrifies me more than anything Taylor could throw at me.

I need to go get Addison and Hailey. Suddenly, the desire to have them here with me is nearly overwhelming.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway of my father’s house. When I enter, the familiar scent of home-cooked food wafts through the air as they clear the last of the dinner dishes. My stomach knots, not from hunger, but from the anticipation of the impending conversation.

But first, I check on Hailey and Addison. “I need to talk to my dad. Can you hang a while longer?”

Hailey nods. “Sure.”

I find my father, and his eyes light up. “Can we talk?” I ask.

“Of course.” He nods and leads me past the familial chatter into the refuge of his home office. The room is lined with bookshelves and has a spectacular view of the sound.

“Hailey’s been wonderful, you know,” he begins, settling behind his mahogany desk. “She’s good for you…for Addison.”

“I agree,” I say, but I hesitate before diving into the depths of our past. “I need to understand something. Why did you leave me?”

He leans forward, elbows resting on the polished wood, fingers interlaced as if in prayer. “It was complicated, Christian. Your grandparents never approved of your mother and me. It was very hard for her, and we struggled to get by. When things got tough, she reached out to her father for help.”

“Help?” I echo.

He nods. “They wanted her to come home with you, but not me. She had to make a choice, and she chose them. I was angry about that for a while, but I’ve forgiven her. Anyway, to convince me to walk away, they offered me money. A lot of money.” His voice is steady, but I catch the flicker of old pain in his eyes. “I refused at first, tried to fight for joint custody. But then…”

“Then what?” My heart races, fearing the answer.

“Accusations started flying. My co-workers were told I was abusive.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want their money, but then I realized I could put it in your name. Assuring your well-being? That was more important than any courtroom battle. And I thought it might spare you the pain of our arguments. It nearly killed me, but I took the deal.”

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a stack of papers, decades’ worth of monthly statements, neatly filed. “This is it,” he says, sliding them across the desk. “The money they gave me. It has your name on it, nearly three-million dollars now.”

My hands tremble as I touch the proof of a lifetime’s struggle and sacrifice. The silence between us stretches, filled with the unsaid and the unforgettable. Here, in the quiet sanctity of my father’s office, the truth lays bare, and with it, the question of what comes next.

I’m still reeling from my father’s revelations as he leans back in his chair, studying me with a concern that has aged him. “Christian,” he says, “You’ve never been interested in this before. Why now?”

“Taylor Hearst, Addison’s mother, showed up today. She says she wants to be in Addison’s life, which feels like the first step in taking her away from me. I can’t let that happen.”

“Of course you don’t want her taken away, but why do you think that’s her plan?”

“She just dumped her. She followed her dream and left her behind because Addison was hard. Now, she’s changed her mind? She’s not a trustworthy person. I don’t trust her motives.”

“Is that what she said about why she left?”

“No. But it’s clear enough. I’ve finally got things figured out now, and she wants to come back and make it all chaos again.”

“That may not be what she wants. Maybe you should talk to her. Maybe there’s a middle ground you haven’t seen yet.”

I nod. It’s difficult to picture any compromise with Taylor, but the sincerity in Dad’s eyes reminds me of the stark contrast between what is easy and what is right.

“Life isn’t always black and white. As a doctor, you know that,” he continues. “People change, circumstances change.”

When I don’t respond, he shifts the conversation, likely to give me space to process. “By the way, have you been keeping up with the Mariners?”

A smile tugs at my lips despite the storm inside me. “Honestly, no. Baseball took a backseat to…well, everything else.”

“Understandable.” Dad chuckles. “But they’re not doing too bad this season. Might be worth catching a game or two when things settle down. Tasha and I were thinking of going down to Seattle for a weekend. We’d love it if you wanted to join us.”

“I’ll think about it. Depends on my work schedule.” The suggestion feels like an olive branch, an attempt to create something more substantial between us. “I’d like to do it,” I assure him.

“Sounds good,” he agrees. “Just let me know.”

We stand then, and as we walk out of the office, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for all the sacrifices.” My voice feels thick with emotion.

He looks at me, and there’s a depth of understanding that transcends words. “I was just trying to be a good parent. Now, you take care of yourself and that little girl of yours.”

I nod. He’s given me a lot to think about.

I find Hailey and Addison in the living room and help them gather their things. After saying our goodbyes, we get into the Range Rover, and I drive us home.

It’s Addison’s bedtime when we arrive, and I watch Hailey’s silhouette glide through the dimmed hallway, Addison cradled against her chest, until they disappear, climbing the stairs to the nursery. Alone in the living room, I settle onto the couch, looking out the wide windows to False Creek. The city lights dance on the water’s surface.

I’m not sure how long I sit there before I sense Hailey’s presence. She moves silently, but her energy shifts the air around us. “Who was at the house earlier?” she asks as she takes a seat beside me.

“Taylor,” I say. I feel her body tense next to mine. “She wants back into Addison’s life.”

She’s quiet a moment. “How do you feel about that?”

I draw in a breath, exhaling slowly. “Miller Crawford, my attorney, brought up something today…about my father.” My voice is hesitant as I navigate the memories. “He said he did the same thing for my grandfather, and it was meant to look out for me.” I pause. “That stopped me cold.”

Her hand finds mine, fingers lacing. “What happened?”

“That’s what I pulled Dad aside to talk about at the house earlier. I wanted to understand.” I recount the conversation in brief strokes. “I remember missing him so much, blaming myself because he wasn’t there, thinking it was my fault he left.”

Hailey squeezes my hand, a silent comfort. “Christian…”

“I don’t want Addison to go through what I did.”

Hailey’s eyes search mine. “Maybe Addison would do better with her mother and father in her life,” she suggests.

I look at her, and my heart tightens. A child deserves both parents, regardless of whether they’re together. But that thought clashes with everything I’ve planned, every safeguard I’ve put up to protect Addison, to protect myself. The plan was never to share custody, to let Taylor back in after all this time. She did the unthinkable when she didn’t tell me I was a father and then dumped her baby at her sister’s to pursue her dream. “You might be right,” I admit. “But that wasn’t part of my plan.”

Her hand remains steady in mine. “What happens to your plan when you’re in surgery and something goes sideways?”

I sigh. “I change the plan.”

“So maybe it’s time to change your plan,” she says simply.

“I need to think about it,” I say finally, a concession to her wisdom, and to the possibility of a different future than the one I’d so carefully mapped out.