Page 33 of Fate

Chapter Eight

Carson

An angerinside me simmers so strong it is as though I am a volcano ready to blow. I take the corner to her street as though my truck is a racecar.

A fuckingfire.

I had to see this shit to believe it. Fire ruined my life once before. It has to be like lightning. This shit can’t strike twice. Couldit?

The downtown street is poorly paved, with potholes littering the road like confetti. My four-wheel drive can handle it, but how can her shitty Honda scrape through on balding tires and a rotted undercarriage?

Yeah, I took in the details of her car since we last spoke. It’s the vehicle my daughter is being driven around in. My daughter. Fuck. Those words will never get any easier to hear. It’s such a foreign concept. Not something I ever thought I’d be dealing with. At least not like this. I’d always envisioned my life with Kathleen, married, and having children with her. Not jetting from the woman I love to the woman who has my daughter.

Sweat trickles down my back as I drive. This area is notorious for gangbangers and drug dealers. Why the fuck is she livinghere?

When I get closer to her address I see the fire trucks and police cars lining the center of the street, preventing traffic from passing through, their blue and red lights flashing maniacally. I pull up in front of another dilapidated house and focus on the two blond heads sitting on the curb. Misty’s brown eyes clock me the second I step out of mycar.

She stands, a toddler clamped to her chest. My heart beats like a bass drum while I force myself out of the car. Every step I take closer to them sounds louder in my ears, as if my heart is going to rip right out of my chest and flop onto the cold, hard ground.

The little girl turns her head, and I stop in my tracks in the middle of the street. That heart of mine moves double time as I take in the chubby cheeks, the golden hair, and the cherub lips. She looks exactly like my sister Chloe did as a little girl. The likeness is uncanny. Had I seen her prior to requesting the paternity test, it wouldn’t have been needed. There is no denying this child ismine.

My daughter.

Without even asking, I hold out my hands. Instinctively, my body yearns for its young. The baby smiles, her eyes lighting up with intrigue and what I hope is happiness.

“Carson, be careful with her. She doesn’t like strangers,” Misty warns. The second Cora’s little body curls against my chest, every concern, worry, and disgusting thought I had about this situation flies out the window. I am holding my daughter, and she’s perfect.

“Hello, baby girl. I’m your daddy.” I stumble over the words and rub my nose againsthers.

She giggles, and it lights up my entire world. I’m in love with her already. A single laugh is all it takes. I hold her close, inhale her sweet scent, and close my eyes, imprinting this moment in my mind. The sirens, the officers and firemen calling out commands—it all fades away as I connect with my own flesh and blood for the very firsttime.

“Cora,” I whisper, allowing her name to sit on my tongue, becoming familiar, special.

She lifts her hands to my face and squishes my cheeks. “Dog dog,” she says in garbled babytalk.

Misty smiles and pats Cora’s back. “No, Cora, that’s your dah-dee, not a doggie.”

“Dah-dah, da-da.”

I smile and kiss her cheek, holding her as close as I can get her. She smells of baby powder and the floral perfume I associate with Misty. “Yes, baby. Your dah-dah.”

I suck in a huge breath of air and let this moment reach into my heart and implant itself there for eternity—the day I met my daughter. I start to look around. The firemen are still putting out the last of the fire. The building is a total loss. The entire structure is charred black.

“This was your building?”

Misty’s eyes fill, and tears fall down her cheeks. “We lost everything.” She gulps and pushes her hand to her mouth, a river of pain and wetness staining her pink tank top. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, where we’re going to go. I can’t afford a new place, and Cora needs diapers and a place to sleep and food…” Her voice rises, tinged with hysteria.

Cora’s little body tightens in my arms, and she swings her head to her mother. “Ma-ma, ma-ma!” She reaches grabbing hands out to her. I don’t want to let her go, but I’m proud of my daughter. Her immediate instinct when hearing her mother’s sadness is to comfort her. Says a great deal about her character already.

Begrudgingly, I let go of Cora and hand her off to Misty.

“You will stay with me.” I say the words before I really understand the ramifications of such a decision.

“But I don’t know how long it will take me to earn enough money to get another place.”

I tighten my hands into fists and focus on my daughter’s angelic face. She will have everything. My girl will want for nothing the rest of her life. Silently, I swear I’m going to make her happy and give her the best life. In order to do that, she needs a home. Mine is practically empty.

“I will take care of her, and you, indefinitely. Right now, this means you will have food, shelter, clothes—all the necessities to lead a happy and healthy life. My daughter will never again go without. Her safety is my number-one priority.” The truth of the statement shoots from my fingertips and out every pore, permeating every fiber of my being.

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