Page 125 of Stay for Me

Once on the top stair, I looked to the left, my eyes on the cracked door at the end of the hall. The walls were painted a dove blue, soft playing music inside. Slowly, I walked to the door, every single inch of my body tight, braced for the unknown. I leaned forward, peeking through the gap, my eyes landing on the white crib against the far wall, a little human asleep inside.

My son.

He was on his stomach, butt in the air, feet curled under. His head was blocked by a stuffed teddy bear.

I wanted to see more of him, and my body moved before I could think. Pain shot through my left side as I pushed the door open with my left arm. I bit down, grinding my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut. A few seconds passed before the pain began to fade, and then I was tip-toeing across his room, coming to stop in front of his crib. My eyes locked on the boy and my stomach dropped, the floor underneath me about to collapse.

I heard soft laughter then, and I twisted my neck, looking over my shoulder, my eyes narrowing on the hallway. Before I could blink, I was out of the baby’s room and charging down to the opposite end of the hall. Another round of laughter fluttered through our bedroom door, and I stopped in my tracks, recognizing her voice.

“We can’t,” my wife rasped.

“Yes, we can. He won’t be up for another ten minutes,” a male voice argued.

I sighed deeply as I dropped my head, the truth not hitting like I expected. I expected the force of an oncoming train, but instead, it was like a small gust of wind: meaningless to some, but to others, it could shake their whole world.

I’d gotten my hopes up.

I’d been a fool.

I lifted my right leg and kicked the door in, the force of it shaking our wedding pictures on the wall. Ashley yelped, grabbing the sheet to cover herself as I stepped inside, my eyes on the man in my bed.

My wife said my name.

My old name.

My birth name.

A snarl left me as I pinned her in place with a glare. “Told you to never call me that again,” I clipped.

“M-Mags,” she stammered, correcting herself immediately, scrambling up to her feet, taking a sheet with her. The man in my bed scrambled to grab a pillow to cover his junk.

My wife was pretty, always had been. With her dark hair that matched mine and big, blue-gray eyes, it wasn’t hard for me to fall in love with her when we were sixteen. We both came from a small town, both desperate to get out of it. The easiest way for me to do that was to enlist in the Marines; not to mention, I wanted to get the fuck away from my father.

“Who is this, Ashley?”

My head ticked to the side as I looked at the man who’d been sleeping with my wife.

I looked back to Ashley. “That boy in there isn’t mine, is he, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice sweet.

“Mags,” she started, “please. I can explain. I—”

“Ash, who the hell is this guy?” the man barked. “Why is he asking about Miles?”

Miles.

So that was his name.

She’d refused to tell me his name in the hospital, saying she wanted it to be a surprise. I could give her that; after everything I’d put her through, I had to give her that. I knew she would do right by our boy.

But he wasn’t my boy at all.

“Miles,” I repeated, testing the name.

There were tears in my wife’s eyes now. “Mags, I didn’t know you were coming home today.”

“Thought I’d surprise my wife and son,” I shot back, watching her flinch.

“What the fuck?” the man whispered, suddenly looking green. He looked over to me, his eyes filled with regret. “You’re her dead husband?”

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