CHAPTER 22 LINCOLN

The first morning with Jolene and Jonah in our home together is pure magic.

I wake with Jolene in my arms.

I watch the dinosaur part on Minions with Jonah no less than twenty-seven times.

He gets ready for school while I make pancakes.

I know Jonah will eventually outgrow the minions. I know eventually we'll add another voice to our happy brood, and maybe one or two more after that.

I know there will be missteps and mistakes and miscommunication.

But I also know that this is nothing short of pure bliss, and what I already knew is just confirmed. This is how I want our life to be. Always.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me, Mom," I say later in the afternoon. "After I get her dad on board, anyway."

"Oh, Lincoln," she says, and I can hear how choked up she is over the phone. "I'm so happy for you. How'd you win her back?"

"I just did what any man should do for his lady," I say.

"Oh? What's that?"

"I made sure she knew she and her son came first in my life." I smile at the new framed photo sitting on my desk of Jolene and Jonah. I swiped it from her house when I was helping them pack, and every time I look at it, a sense of hope blossoms in my chest.

"I always knew you'd make a great husband…and father," she says, and I feel myself getting choked up now over her words.

But there were two reasons for this call today. One, to tell her I'm going to propose to Jolene…and two, to find out if my suspicions are true.

"Can I ask you a, um…difficult question?" I begin, and I draw in a breath.

"Sure," she says, and she sounds a little hesitant.

"I'm not quite sure how to ask what I want to know, so I guess I'll just start by saying I always felt like Dad treated me differently than Gray, Spence, and Ash. I got to thinking about it the other day when Jolene and I were talking and she said something offhand about how she can't believe I'm related to someone like him. And it made me think…what if I'm not? What if that's why he always treated me differently than my brothers?"

My mom is silent on the other end of the line.

"So my question is…am I?"

She remains silent a few beats, and then she clears her throat softly. "Are you what?"

"Am I related by blood to Edward Nash?"

She lets out a soft sigh. "I don't know," she finally admits.

"You don't…you don't know?" I repeat. My eyes fall back to the framed photo on the desk. I concentrate on their laughter—laughter so strong I can feel radiating from the photo.

"No, honey. I don't know. We were young, and it was kind of a different time. We'd been together all through high school, and I thought we'd end up together…until he decided he wanted to see what else was out there, so he broke up with me. After he had his fun, and I had mine, we ended up back together. A couple months later, I found out I was pregnant. He asked me to marry him, and then you came along, and we just always assumed you were his."

"But you never knew for sure," I say flatly.

"No."

"And he's spent my entire life resenting me because of it."

She's quiet, but her silence is all the confirmation I need.

"I need to go," I say.

It feels a bit like my entire life has been a lie.

"No, wait, honey," she says. "Stop. Don't hang up."

"Who is it?" I ask through a clenched jaw.

"Who is…your father?" she asks. "I told you, baby. I don't know. It might be Eddie."

"Or it might be…" I trail off as I lead her to the answer.

"I'd rather not answer that."

"Why not?" I ask, and my chest tightens as I wait for her answer.

"Because I'm embarrassed, okay?" she says. "I did things back then that no mother should ever have to admit to her son. I'm ashamed, and you're digging this up and I don't want to talk about it."

"We're all adults here," I say, my anger rising. "Pretend I'm your gal pal at the spa. It's locker room talk, right? I can tell you about all my conquests over the years, and you can spill yours, too."

"Lincoln, stop it. Don't be mad about this," she chides. "You had a good life. Eddie wasn't perfect, but he was a good dad."

"Don't be mad?" I practically yell. "Don't be mad? I've spent my entire life believing what might be a goddamn lie, and you could've told me the truth on any number of occasions. And you're right. Eddie was a good dad—to my brothers. But not to me. I was never good enough for him, and now I understand why. I represented to him all those shameful things his future wife did when they spent time apart, whether I'm really his or not. So let's put all the cards on the table. I want a paternity test, and you're going to figure out how to make it happen." I cut the call with those words, seething with anger as I process everything she just told me.

When it was just an idea in my mind, it was one thing. But to have actual confirmation that Eddie Nash might not be my dad…well, that's an entirely different ballgame.

But I don't get to focus on any of it because practice is starting soon and I have to go motivate my players to do their jobs on the field. But first, I need to grab some lunch, and knowing what I know now about the Gridiron, I've decided to start spending a little more time over there in hopes of running into the owner.

He's not in.

He's not in the next day, either.

I need to talk to him, though, and so I will keep trying.

I contemplate what it is about me that he hates so much, and it could be any one of a variety of factors starting with the most obvious: I hurt his daughter in the past, and he's fearful I'll do it again.

But he might also be afraid I'm going to take her away from him, and I need him to see that the only way that's going to happen is if he won't get on board with the two of us being together.

I keep busy at the Complex during the day, and I sleep with Jolene by my side at night. I wake up to watch movies with Jonah and we make pancakes together before he heads off to school. I apologize to my mother for yelling at her, and she apologizes for never doing anything about it and preferring to keep the past in the past.

But on Thursday after practice is over and team meetings have ended, I head over for a late lunch.

And there he is…sitting at the bar with his wife laughing about something. They each have a cocktail in front of them, and I don't want to interrupt a good time, but this is urgent.

I march up to them. "Mr. Bailey, Mrs. Bailey," I say, and I nod at the two of them. "May I have a word with you, sir?"

His laughter fades quickly as his eyes fall upon me. "I got nothing to say to you, boy." His tone is condescending, and I know this is going to be an uphill battle, but it's one I need to fight.

"Please?" I beg.

"Come on, Joe," Joanna says to him. "Give him a chance. For JoJo." She offers me a small, tight smile, and I pray she's enough to convince him to talk to me.

He studies her a long time, and it's as if they're having some silent conversation with their eyes. Eventually he picks up his drink and walks toward the break room without a word.

"Thank you," I murmur to Joanna, squeezing her forearm for a beat, and then I follow behind him, hoping that's his intention here. Once we're in the privacy of the break room, he sets his drink on the table and turns to face me.

"What?" he demands.

I'm suddenly a nervous wreck. I have no idea how to even start this other than to not beat around the bush. And so I blurt out my words. "I'm going to ask your daughter to marry me, and I would like to do it with your blessing."

"No." His expression doesn't change as he issues the rejection.

"May I ask why?"

"Because you've hurt her one too many times, and I won't stand by and watch you do it again." He folds his arms over his chest.

"That's the thing, sir. I won't do it again."

"Hm, where have I heard that before?" he asks rhetorically.

"Look, I don't know how to make you believe me, but I love Jolene and Jonah with everything I have, and they love me, too. We want to be a family." We're going to be a family. I want to add more about the baby, but I can't…not when I don't know whether she's told him yet. "I'm going to ask her to marry me regardless of how this conversation goes today, but I'd rather do it with your blessing."

"Why in the hell would I ever give you that?" he asks.

"Because I know how to make her happy."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "You're also damn good at making her sad, son."

"I won't blame anybody else for my own mistakes, but I want you to know the truth behind it. All of it."

"What truth?" he asks.

"You've heard by now that my father intentionally hurt you as a misguided way to protect me. The truth is that he wanted you out of Rivalry, and he was willing to stop at nothing to ensure that happened. He conveniently blamed me, and I took the fall, breaking my own heart as much as hers because of what he did. The other day, Jolene said to me that she doesn't understand how I could be related to someone like him, and it got me thinking…what if I'm not? I had a conversation with my mother earlier this week in which she confirmed that she never really knew for sure that he is. I guess my point is that I wish I had a father more like you growing up. You and Jolene have always been so damn close, and I wish I had that with my dad. I wish he didn't resent me and blame me for his own mistakes. I wish he actually would've protected me instead of acting in his own best interests. Hell, I wish I knew whether he really was my dad." I shrug at the end, and I wait.

He stares at me a few beats, his arms still folded across his chest, and then he pulls out a chair and sits. "I don't know what to say." His voice is low and gruff.

I remain standing. "I wanted to come talk to you today because I wanted you to know my intensions with your daughter and your grandson. I will protect them the way you protect Jolene for the rest of my life. I will not come between you and your daughter or you and your grandson. The only one who has the power to do that is you. I will ask her to marry me with or without your consent. She's already moved into my home, and we both know it's the next step in our future. It's what we both want."

"You're a cocky little son of a bitch, you know that?" he says gruffly.

"Excuse me?" I ask. I lay my heart on the line, and that's all he has to say?

"But I can appreciate your efforts," he adds. He sighs, and it's a heavy one. "I can't give you my blessing, but what I can do is talk to my daughter. If this is truly what she wants, then I won't stop it. I won't stand in your way."

It's something, I guess, and there's a big history here that we have to undo. It'll just take time. "I'll take it," I say softly. "Thank you, Mr. Bailey."

He presses his lips together and nods, and I excuse myself.

I have a ring to go purchase, after all.