Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

HELLER

“How could she?” I ask to no one in particular as I take a sip from my glass of bourbon.

“What a bitch!” Carlos exclaims, just as upset as I am.

“Don’t fucking call her that,” I yell as I turn to look at him. Why I’m sticking up for her, I have no idea.

“She fucking kept your kid from you man!”

“I KNOW!”

My mind is going back and forth from pain, to anger, to sympathy, back to pain and ends once again on anger.

I did everything I could for her when we were together. Yes, I knew she had some issues, but we were working hard to get through them. I made sure she took her meds, went to therapy. Hell, sometimes I even went to therapy with her.

I couldn’t imagine any reason whatsoever would make her think she needed to run and hide and have my baby behind my back. Did she think I wouldn’t want him? Or her?

We talked all the time about having a family, what it would mean to the both of us. I never gave her any reason, that I’m aware of, that I wouldn’t want both of them in my life.

Although I knew marriage was something she didn’t believe in, she still knew that we both wanted a family who would love and understand each other.

My family, or what was supposed to be my family, was a bunch of entitled assholes. Whom, in fact, I was able to get away from the day I turned eighteen. I wanted nothing to do with them, the way they lived their lives, or the lifestyle I was raised in. They took being rich as being entitled, never having to answer to anything they’d done wrong, always buying their way out of everything.

I believed in responsibility. Which was a conclusion I came to on my own. It was values I instilled in myself because if it were up to them, I’d be living a life of lies, crime, etc. It just wasn’t in my wheelhouse.

Katrina’s family, hell, were they crazy.

They believed she was always just ‘acting out’. Never once taking the time to understand that the issues she had were nothing to do with behavior. The day she was diagnosed with bipolar, they threw her away. Making her mental health a disease that they thought they could catch.

Together, we researched, saw quite a few professionals, and worked hard to learn ways to help her become more stable. It took a lot of strength and perseverance, but eventually, we got to a beautiful place.

I keep thinking about those days and still wonder why she ran.

She took the biggest piece of my heart when she left. I’ve never once even considered moving on. Yes, I’ve had a fling here and there, but there was never anything that could amount to anything.

Now, all I want to do is run, the same way she did.

But I know I’m not going to. I am going to stick this out and after I drink myself into oblivion, I’m going to find her and find out the how’s, what’s, and why’s.

More importantly, however, I’m going to insist that I get to know my son.

My son.

Wow, that right there brings tears to my eyes.

Eyes, the same green as mine. Hair, the same blonde as Katrina’s. Complexion, a mix of us both. He’s beautiful, even with the tears that were streaming down his face. He’s going to be a heartbreaker one day and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss one more fucking day of his life.

“Call me a cab,” I tell the bartender, Alanah. “I changed my mind, I need to get sober and get some things done.”

I watch as she grabs her phone and makes the call.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Carlos asks, slurring, already halfway to the point we both said we were getting to. He’s a bit of a lighter weight than I am, so even though we’d had the same amount to drink he’s hitting harder than I am.

“I have to know,” I answer, hoping he understands what I mean.

“Fuck, brother, you should have warned me sooner. How am I supposed to hold your hand through this shit.” He puts out his hand and goes to grab for mine.

“Fuck off,” I half laugh. Any other time I would’ve found his banter amusing and I know that’s what he’s trying to do, but this is no laughing matter, and I can’t get onboard with his antics.

“Just trying to ease the mind.”

“I get it, but I can’t right now.”

“Go get your kid,” he answers, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

When I finally get home, I’m sober already. Guess the adrenaline I’m feeling made it so the alcohol was out of my system quickly. I’m now showered and ready to go to the hospital.

I already called and know they decided to keep Katrina there overnight because of the bruising on her torso, so I’m going to confront this now.

Getting in my truck, I take a couple of deep breaths. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I know if I don’t walk into this situation calmly, the outcome isn’t going to be great. Hell, Katrina could run again for all I know. It could’ve been a freak accident that I was part of the SARs crew that was called in to help West End dig themselves out of the landslides and she was there.

Did she live just a few towns over from me this whole time?

That there would likely send me into another tailspin but taking another deep breath, I make myself a promise to at least hear her out.

The drive to West End seems to take forever, but when the hospital comes into sight, I start shaking.

Why am I suddenly scared? I shouldn’t be the one who is nervous, but the nerves that hit me don’t understand that.

Parking my car, I begin to wonder.

Did she know she was pregnant when she left? Did she go through it all alone? Does my boy even know he has a father?

My boy, my son. I’ve suddenly fallen in love all over again. Without knowing his name, he’s already everything I’m willing to live and die for. He’s already the full owner of everything in my heart and soul.

So many more questions are running rampant in my head.

It’s time to get some answers.