Page 6 of Hidden Truths

I snort. Frank is the only one who knows I’m here. I can’t wait to tell Kai I have a daughter and that I need one of his guitars. There’s no way that won’t go well. Him and Belle have been blowing up my phone. They’re looking for me, but I can’t talk to them right now. So my phone is off.

“Callahan? What the hell is going on?”

My eyes shoot up to meet my dad’s. “Dad?” I turn to glare at Frank, who just shrugs without even bothering to look at me.

“You needed support,” he says simply.

“That’s why I calledyou,” I mutter, standing to greet my father. I hear Frank chuckle. We both know he’s great at what he does, but the man is not warm.

My dad wraps me in his arms and some of the tension instantly releases. Dad has been and always will be my biggest supporter. I should’ve called him myself, but I haven’t been able to tell anyone what’s going on. I’m too overwhelmed.

He releases me and turns to Frank, holding out his hand. “Thanks for calling me.”

Frank takes my dad’s hand and nods. “It’s good to see you again, Jason.”

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s happening?” Dad asks, turning his attention back to me.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, my nerves taking over. “I might have a daughter.”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and his eyes are so wide I’m afraid they’ll fall right out of his head. He regains control of his expression as he processes my words. “What do you mean,you mighthave a daughter?”

“We’re waiting for the DNA test to confirm before they let me see her,” I explain, feeling both embarrassed about the situation and angry we’re even in it. I should’ve known. Someone should have told me. This shouldn’t be the first time I’m learning I’m a father.

“The mother doesn’t want to let you see her?” My dad asks. It’s a fair question, but it puts a lump in my throat.

“She died. Overnight. Hemorrhage.” Frank supplies when he senses I’m having trouble answering. “The hospital hasn’t been able to contact any next of kin. So until the baby is confirmed to be Cal’s, we have to wait out here.”

“Who was she?”

Shame floods my system as I shrug. My dad looks disappointed but is waiting for me to speak before he says anything. He’s always been good at letting us plead our case before he gives his judgement.

“They won’t tell me that either. I didn’t know anything about a baby until a few hours ago.”

Dad’s expression softens. “You’re going to be a great dad, Callahan. Whether that day is today or years from now.”

I nod, holding back the tears threatening to spill. It’s not that I mind crying. Honestly, I find it pretty cathartic. I just know there’s going to be a lot more emotions playing out soon, and I need to keep it together for now. For my daughter. Something in my gut tells me she’s mine, and I haven’t even laid eyes on her yet.

“Mr. Griffin? The test results are back. Would you like to come meet your daughter?” the nurse I’ve been borderlineyelling at for hours asks me with way more compassion than I deserve.

My dad squeezes my shoulder and leads me down the hall after the nurse. She leads us to a nursery with several babies sleeping soundly in their little bassinets.

“Have a seat in that chair, and I’ll bring her over to you.”

I nod at her instruction and sit where she told me to, too shocked and scared to form words. I feel my dad still standing by my side, his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“Here’s your perfect baby girl,” she whispers before handing me my daughter. And she was right. The most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen is cradled in my arms.

“What’s her name?” I whisper, scared to wake any of the babies in the room.

The nurse gives me a sad smile. “Her mom didn’t give her a name yet.”

“Do you know her mom’s name?” Dad asks.

The nurse carefully pulls out my daughter’s foot from the blanket she’s wrapped in. I consider tugging my daughter closer to me but realize how insane that seems. This woman is a nurse and has been caring for my daughter while I couldn’t.

“Her name was Bailey Young.” I realize she was reading it off the anklet around my daughter’s leg.

My eyes go wide, and I gently remove the pink hat from my daughter’s small head. “You have your mama’s hair,” I whisper, letting the tears finally fall and carefully touching the bright red hair on my baby’s head.

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