Page 71 of Unhinged

“No.” I expected that to confuse her, but not for her to outright oppose it.

“Are you serious? She may have it or be a carrier. It doesn’t make itself known until about two years old. I’ll get a court order if needed. Amos will be all over that fucker.”

“Don’t threaten me. Brandon will fight Amos.”

“Sure. Denying the father his own paternity and genetic testing will hold up so well.”

“She’s fine.”

“How in the fuck do you know?” I sigh, the truth punching me in the face with an aluminum bat. “Son of a bitch. Birdy isn’t mine, is she?”

“I don’t know what—”

“Just fucking tell me the truth. Her health depends upon it.”

Shasta sighs into the phone and whispers, “No.”

A wave of anger, relief, and sadness hit me all at once. “Goddamn it, I knew you were lying. Whose is she?”

“It’s none of your business.”

I nod. “Grant.”

“I have to go. I’m…sorry about the mix-up.”

“There was no misunderstanding! You fucking lied and took advantage of me! She doesn’t deserve you as her damn mother! Don’t think I won’t sue to get my money back from you!”

“Then I’ll just show our sex tape.”

“You fucking bitch—” She has to be bluffing about that. Yet, I’m stupid enough to fall for that too.

The line goes silent, and I lean my head on the railing.

I’m not a father. Not to Finley or Birdy.

Still, I bow my head as tears streak my face. Not just for losing two kids who weren’t mine, but for the kids I can’t have. I’ll never have that experience. I don’t know whether it’s better to tell Kleo now or later that my genetic code dictates my love life.

Looking at my phone, I have no one to talk to about this shit. Ferrera, I suppose, but I haven’t spoken to him since leaving. My mother? She didn’t even know they existed.

I’ll need to swallow the last shred of my pride to ask the dumpster gnome to get a legal ball rolling.

Standing, I drag my ass back to Hardware. If Dingleberry has any brains, he’ll stay away from me for the rest of the day.

Working two hours overtime, I get to the bar when it’s in a full mediocre swing for a weeknight. From the back door, I walk into the kitchen to see Amos and Aunt Amy looking over some paperwork. Aunt Amy squeals, “Greg! Where have you been?”

“Home Depot and here.”

Amos looks up and checks his watch.

“Yeah. I forgot to tell you I had to work over. I’m sorry.” An apology is probably good since I’ll need to kiss Vaughn’s ass for help.

He shrugs. “I figured.”

Aunt Amy says, “You spend too much time there.”

“And not here?”

“That’s different.” She then looks over her shoulder with a giddy smile. “I met the new girl, Simone. Oh, yeah, Greg.”

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