Page 116 of Back to Willow

I take it off and restart from the beginning, doing as he directed before I click the seatbelt into the buckle. When I try to shake it again, it barely moves, and I sigh in relief.

If my tanned complexion would allow it, I’d be blushing from embarrassment. Dylan knows how to secure a car seat better than I do. Bloody hell, and here I was last night, asking what could go wrong…Nothing like a six-year-old to humble you a little—or a lot.

There’s no time to wallow in misery. I can bitch about not being fit to be a parent later.

“Alright, bud. Let’s go.”

“Yes!” He jumps straight inside, sitting on the car seat. After closing his door and rounding the car, I get into the driver’s seat to rev the engine.

“Where are we going?”

Peeling off Willow’s driveway, we slowly head toward Porto’s junior team practice stadium. It’s on the opposite side of the city, and with traffic, a good thirty-minute drive.

“A little bird told me you like football…” I trail off. “I reckon it’s time to sign you up to play in a team. What do you think?”

“Porto?” The giddiness in his voice is audible, and I have to make a big effort to not groan. It’s definitely is not my favourite team.

“Unfortunately,” I grumble in distaste. “Hopefully, soon, I’ll be able to convince you Benfica is best.”

“Uncle Jake says they bribe referees.”

“That’s a load of—” I splutter, stopping myself before I curse. It is, though. “Do you even know what bribe means?”

“I asked Mum,” he answers proudly.

“Of course, you did. Anyway, how do you feel about going for a try-out?”

“Oh.” He looks down at his hands, picking at the seat’s buckle. “Good.”

I frown. “You don’t want to? We can do something else…”

“No,” he exclaims, eyes widening. “I just…”

“What’s wrong, bud?”

“All of my school friends play football, too. They told me their dads always takes them to the practices, and…” he stops, looking outside, and my heart twists in pain.

Bloody hell.

The way his voice is weak and low alongside his deep frown feels like a punch to my gut. My throat clogs up with unsaid words. The ones I want to say ever since I’ve known the whole truth.

And while there is a small chance that takes away from the certainty of me being his dad…watching him like this makes me want to blurt those words more than ever.

I’m your dad.

It’s what I want to say. But Willow and I have an agreement.

We can’t tell him until we’re sure, and I understand. His well-being matters more than our—my—feelings. I may be new to this, but I understand that perspective very well. After not being a priority to my own family growing up—not in the way that it matters—I have vowed to do better. To break the cycle.

And that means putting him above everything else.

“And…” I prompt him to continue, swallowing the forbidden words.

“I always thought by now,” he side-eyes me with a sad expression before looking back outside and continuing, “that mummy would have found my dad, and he’d be the one doing this with me…”

Fucking hell!How do I go about this without fucking it up?

“Bud.” I wait until he looks at me. “I’m sorry things aren’t going as you expected.” He huffs, looking away again, and I swallow as panic grips my throat. The words are ready to be spewed out and give him exactly what he wants.Your dad is right here.“You’re too young to understand, but sometimes, things are harder and more difficult to solve than we realise.”

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