He hit the button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah? Sorry, I mean, hello?”
“Gage.” He immediately recognized the voice of his lawyer—the guy his dad had hired to help with the whole paternity mess.
“Hey, Blake.”
“How are you?”
Gage took in a shaking breath. “Shitting my pants here, dude. I don’t want to make small talk. Can you just tell me if the results are in?”
“The results in. They’re negative. Ninety-nine point nine percent chance that the baby’s not yours.”
He leaned forward, a wave of nausea hitting him as he stared at his shoes. The floor looked like it was moving for a second, and then the world righted itself. He swallowed, then leaned back against the cushions.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, I…give me a sec?”
“Of course.” Blake went quiet, and the only sound was the gentle wheeze from Gage’s tight lungs.
It took nearly a full minute for him to be able to breathe again. “So it’s over?”
“Unless you don’t want to pursue charges of assault,” Blake said. “If not, it can be over.”
“Do I have time to think about that?”
“You have some time. Not decades, but yeah.”
“And if I choose not to, will that make me a terrible person?”
“No,” Blake said quietly, “I’ve done this more times than I want to. Each case is different. Unique,” he clarified. “Everyonehas their own journey, and everyone processes their trauma in their own way. It will not make you a bad person if you choose to do nothing.”
Gage let out a thready laugh. “You knew that question was coming, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Everyone asks that.” Blake’s voice sounded sad. “There’s no wrong answer and no right answer. For now, I will file this with the court and petition for the child support case to be dropped. They might push back,” he added. “They might ask for a second test, but I doubt they can afford to keep this going.”
“I can handle that so long as you think it won’t come back positive,” Gage told him, his voice barely audible.
“This is a reputable company. Mistakes do happen, but they’re rare. I trust these results.”
Gage nodded. His eyes felt hot, and his vision was foggy with unshed tears. Fuck. This was going to mess him up. But at least the choice he thought he’d have to make was off the table. The universe chose for him.
He could put an endcap on this, and it would all be over.
A few tears slid down his cheeks, and he swiped them away. He’d break down later. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch, okay?”
“Absolutely. And I’ll call you when I have more news to share. But hey?”
“Mm?”
“Take a few breaths, yeah? Get some sleep because I have a feeling you haven’t been doing much of that.”
Gage gave a watery laugh. “Yeah, not so much. Thanks again, man. I…I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just take care of yourself, and we’ll talk soon.”
“Yeah. I—yeah. Have a good night.” His hands were shaking like autumn leaves as he punched the End button on the call and let his phone drop to the cushion beside him. There was alump in his chest—a collection of everything he’d felt for the last several months—and he waited for it to explode. Or to fizzle out.
To do something.
