Their reaction to Breanna being pregnant out of wedlock, willfully choosing to go it alone, isn’t a shock. We live in the bible belt. The older generation tends to place a higher moral value on purity before marriage and ‘traditional’ households, regardless of the negative impact it might have on the kids. I’ve never been much of a traditionalist. I know firsthand what it’s like to grow up in one shitty household afteranother. I’ve witnessed enough relationships crumble to know the white picket fence dream is a lie.
The little boy stares out the window, watching our interaction. Something in his familiar green eyes compels me to give this a chance.
“Ok,” I say. “I’ll meet him.”
She helps him out of his car seat—another thing I know nothing about. He’s clutching a well-worn fleece blanket in one hand, and a stuffed dinosaur in the other, radiating nervous energy as his eyes dart around the yard. When he finally glances at me, I muster up a soft smile. He looks so much like me when I was younger.
I still don’t know his name.
He steps onto the stoop, and I squat down to his level. “Hey, buddy. I’m Liam.”
“Are you my daddy?”
Hearing him call me daddy sends a spark of protectiveness through me. Unsure how to answer or how much he knows about what’s happening, I glance up at Breanna in silent question.
She nods.
I return my attention to the nervous child. “I am. It’s very nice to meet you…”
“Aiden,” Bree says. “His name is Aiden.”
“You like dinosaurs, Aiden?”
His face lights up with a hopeful smile. If I still had a heart, it would’ve leapt out of my chest. I feel connected to this kid, and we’ve just met. I can honestly say that’s only happened to me one other time, and it’s not something I like to think about anymore—even if I can’t escape her these days.
Aiden nods, his ginger curls bouncing with each movement.
In an attempt to form a connection with him, albeit a shallow one, I ask, “What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“Ste–stegosaurus,” he says, stumbling over the word.
“Is that the spikey one?”
I already know it is. Connor went through a major dinosaur phase when he was around ten years old, after we were placed with our fourth foster family. The dad was a geologist, and it was one of the better homes we spent time in. Once his wife got pregnant, they no longer had space for hand-me-down kids.
Aiden cuddles his dinosaur to his chest and yawns.
“Come inside, Bree,” I say. “It’ll be more comfortable for Aiden, and we can talk.”
“I can’t stay, and I can’t take him with me.” Her face is a mask of cold indifference.
“Don’t do this,” I plead.
“Mommy?” Aiden’s voice breaks as he stares up at Breanna. His bottom lip wobbles, and my anger tempers to sadness. “Are you going now?”
It’s clear he was prepared for her to leave, and my heart breaks. This kid is about to be stuck with a stranger in a strange town. He must be terrified. I know what it’s like to be unwanted, and I’ll be damned if he ever feels that because of me. Maybe I don’t know the first thing about being a father, but I’ll learn. For him.
Breanna bends down and kisses his head, smoothing a hand over his curls. “Be good for your daddy, ok?”
“Where are you going, Bree?” My fists clench at my sides as the frustration mounts. “How can I contact you?”
“Take care of my son. You’ll be a better parent than I ever was.” She barely spares Aiden a glance as she turns away.
Aiden looks up at me through tearful eyes. The need to comfort him overwhelms me. I pull him into my arms, and he buries his face against my shoulder, his tiny body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. I hold onto my barely contained fury asBreanna deposits his car seat and a much-too-small suitcase on the ground outside of her car.
She takes off down the drive.
Aiden's breathing slows. By the time we’re inside, he’s fast asleep on my shoulder.
