I absorb this information, trying to reconcile the broken, angry man he's describing with the one sitting across from me now. The one who bought toys for a son he just met, who held Max's hand at the dentist, who reads bedtime stories like he's been doing it for years.
"And the club?" I ask. "What exactly do you do there? And this time, no lies. Please"
He meets my gaze steadily. "Some of it's legitimate, really. Security work, like I said. The garage. We protect the town, keep out worse elements."
"And the rest?"
"Is best not discussed in detail." His tone is gentle but firm. "I don't bring it home, Sidney. I promise you that. And things have been quieter lately, more focused on the legitimate businesses."
I nod, accepting that there are parts of his life he won't share. Maybe it's better that way.
"What about you?" he asks. "You said you were in nursing school?"
"For almost two years." I tuck my legs underneath me, getting more comfortable. "I always wanted to be a nurse, like my grandmother. She worked in a free clinic in a poor neighborhood. She said everyone deserves care, regardless of ability to pay."
"Sounds like a good woman."
"She was." I smile at the memory. "She died when I was sixteen, but she's still my inspiration. I was doing well in the program when my parents died. After that... everything fell apart. I couldn't focus on classes while dealing with the estate, the grief. And then the money ran out."
"So, you took the medical billing job?"
"It was the closest I could get to healthcare without a degree. Decent pay, regular hours. It was fine until..." I hesitate, not sure how much to share.
"Until?"
"Until I got pregnant," I admit. "They were okay with it at first. I worked right up until Max was born, took six weeks of unpaid leave, then went back. But childcare was expensive, and Max got sick a lot his first year—ear infections, colds. I missed too many days. They let me go."
"That's bullshit," Dean says, anger flashing in his eyes. "You were taking care of your kid."
"It's business," I say with a shrug I don't quite feel. "After that, I found other jobs. Retail, waitressing. Nothing that paid enough for decent childcare, which meant I was constantly juggling,constantly stressed. Then three months ago, the medical billing office called. They had an opening, wanted me back."
"That's good, right?"
"It was great. Better pay than the waitressing, regular hours. But then they lost a major contract. Downsized. Last in, first out." I try to keep the bitterness from my voice. "I couldn't make rent. Couldn't find another job fast enough. And here we are."
"Here we are," he echoes.
We sit in silence for a moment. Two broken people who created something perfect in Max.
"What do you want?" Dean asks suddenly. "For the future, I mean."
No one has asked me that in a long time.
"Stability," I say finally. "A job that pays enough to support us. A safe place for Max to grow up. Maybe... maybe finishing my nursing degree someday."
He nods, taking this in. "And what about me? What role do you see me having in Max's life?"
This is the question I've been avoiding, the one with no easy answer. "I don't know," I admit. "I never expected you to be so... involved."
"But now that I am?"
"Now that you are..." I choose my words. "I think Max deserves to have his father in his life. How that looks—shared custody, visitation, child support—I'm not sure yet."
"I want more than visitation," Dean says firmly. "He's my son. I've already missed two years of his life. I don't want to miss any more."
The intensity in his voice surprises me. "You've only known him for a day."
"Doesn't matter. I knew the moment I saw him, Sidney. That's my kid. My blood. My responsibility." His eyes hold mine. "And not just financial responsibility. I want to be there for him. Teach him things. Watch him grow up."
