Chapter 6

6

Faust

You dumb fucking asshole.

You worthless moron.

You insane, miserable son of a bitch.

Why did you even bring her here? Just to treat her like that and chase her out?

I stand with my hands tightened up into fists and I stare at the closed door.

My heart thumps faster than it has in a really long time.

Again, that's the power of Shelby.

My mind races. I'm out of control in my mind right now and that's not like me.

Images of that summer with her just keep flashing.

We were young. Flirting at the cusp of adulthood.

It all felt so cliché…

She's the ‘poor' girl working for her mother's struggling catering business.

I'm the ‘rich' guy attending a fancy dinner party so my father can brag about my future career as a goalie.

We meet. We talk. We flirt.

I tell her to meet me at the shore of the lake.

We meet there.

We talk some more. We flirt some more.

I kiss her…

I turn and walk to the kitchen and pour myself a drink.

One gulp and down it goes.

I pour a second. I don't drink it.

I abandon the drink and walk to the door and freeze when I see something on the table.

She has me so goddamn flustered I didn't realize she left something there for me to find.

I can tell it's a picture.

Hesitation hits me, followed by regret.

What, you don't want to see the picture of your son?

You're his father!

There's a somewhat logical voice that kicks up, wanting to know for sure if this child is mine or not.

I shut my eyes.

How can I even question it?

Shelby would never do something like that…

But she did do something like that .

She didn't tell me… she never…

I open my eyes and reach for the picture.

I already know this is going to feel like a knife to the heart. In some ways I already can see the future of this entire thing.

I know who I am. I know how things go…

I turn the picture around and stare down, my eyes racing maybe faster than they ever have in my entire life.

Staring back at me is not a baby .

Staring back is a young boy. A toddler, I suppose?

He's sitting on the floor with a whole bunch of little toy cars surrounding him.

He looks right at the camera with a prideful look on his face. Proud of his collection of toy cars. His eyes are blue like his mother's. That strikes me in the heart. That Shelby's beautiful eyes have been passed on to our son.

Our son…

That little voice of denial attempts to kick up again, but this time, it silents itself.

Why is that, you might ask?

Other than the blue eyes, I'm looking at a little clone of myself.

The hair. The eyebrows. The shape of his nose. His lips. Chin.

Even his ears.

I sort of have these misshapen ears. Apparently my right ear is bigger than my left. I always got picked on for it. Not that I ever cared about it. Whatever trait that is, it's passed on to my son.

My son.

My jaw tightens.

I can't stop staring at the picture.

I blink fast. Then faster.

I breathe hard. Then harder.

There's zero chance of denying that this is my son - not that I would want to do that.

His blue eyes are as captivating as his mother's.

I refuse to think back to that night . Or the circumstances surrounding it.

What's done is done.

What's happening is happening.

I swallow hard.

My heart feels confused, achy, and yet… I love this kid…?

That's when I realize something.

I don't even know my own son's name.

Odd enough the first person that comes to mind is Colver.

He just had a baby with the love of his life.

On top of that, from what I have gathered, he and Abrielle knew each other in the past and things were very complicated before it all worked out.

His sweet little daughter is named Daisy.

I think about calling Colver.

Asking him for advice.

Then again, what would he actually know?

Daisy is a newborn. An infant. An actual baby.

My son is, what, six years old?

Just thinking that fact fills me with fresh anger.

Sometimes anger is all I know. Anger keeps me grounded in some fucked up way. Keeps me focused. Meaning I'm not going to fall into some lovey-dovey trap here with Shelby. There are reasons she kept her pregnancy hidden from me. Reasons she kept our son - my son - hidden from me.

Forgiveness doesn't necessarily write a future nor does it right the past.

At the same time, I have a son and that son deserves to know he has a father in this world.

Oh, Shelby, you fucked me, sweetie. You fucked me good.

I skip calling Colver.

He's probably knee deep in messy diapers, washing bottles, and grabbing the occasional nap when he can steal one.

My problems are my own.

For the most part.

I do place a phone call though.

In my world, I have three important people.

First, my agent.

Lou handles all the contracts for me. He's tough, mean, loud, and can get very obnoxious. And he always gets his way.

Which means when I hired a lawyer, I needed someone who could match Lou's personality.

Enter Audrey.

Five feet tall.

Scary as hell.

She is vicious. She is smart. And she is very expensive to have on retainer, but she knows her shit and always has my best interests. Whether it's hockey or personal life stuff.

Speaking of which, she'll be getting a call soon too about what's happening in my life. She'll be the one to challenge whether Shelby's son is mine or not. Hell, all I have to do is dig up a picture of me at the kid's age and you wouldn't be able to tell them apart aside from the eye color.

But, no, I'm not calling Audrey right now.

There's a third person I keep close in my very small circle.

That would be Dillon Hynes.

He's a private investigator.

He can get me information about anyone at any time.