The stranger laughs, and it's not a nice sound. "Go ahead. Call them. Tell them you're harassing a single mother who's asked you to leave her property multiple times. Let's see how that works out for you."
"She's our daughter!" my father explodes. "We have rights!"
"And I’ve told you that she's an adult who told you to leave. You've got no rights here." The stranger takes a step forward, putting himself between my family and the door. Between them and me. "Last chance. Walk away now, or I make you walk away."
Marcus's hands curl into fists at his sides. I can see the rage building in him, the same rage he showed the night I told himI was pregnant. When he'd grabbed my arms and shaken me, calling me stupid and careless and a million other cruel things.
"You think you can intimidate me?" Marcus's voice drops low, dangerous. "You think because you've got some tattoos and a motorcycle you're tough?"
"I think you should walk away while you still can," the stranger says calmly.
"Fuck you."
Marcus lunges.
It happens so fast I almost miss it. Marcus throws himself at the stranger, his fist swinging wild and uncontrolled. The stranger doesn't even look surprised. He just shifts his weight, turns his body slightly to the side, and Marcus's fist hits nothing but air.
The momentum carries Marcus forward, off-balance. The stranger's fist comes up in a powerful uppercut that catches Marcus square in the nose. The sound is horrible. A wet crunch that makes my stomach turn. Marcus screams, stumbling backward. Blood pours from his nose, streaming down his chin and staining his nice polo shirt. His hands fly to his face, cupping his nose as he makes these awful whimpering sounds.
"Marcus!" My mother rushes toward him, but my father grabs her arm.
"Don't," he says. He's staring at the stranger with pure hatred. "You broke his nose. You're going to pay for this."
"He swung first," the stranger says, shaking out his hand casually. "That's self-defense. Ask anyone."
"There's no one else here!" my father shouts.
"I saw it," I say, my voice stronger than I expect. "Marcus attacked him. He was defending himself."
My father's gaze swings to me, and I see the disappointment there. The disgust. It's the same look he gave me when I told them I was pregnant, when I refused to "take care of it" like they wanted.
"You always were ungrateful," he says. "We gave you everything. A good home, a good education, money for college. And this is how you repay us? By spreading your legs for the first boy who shows you attention, getting knocked up, and then running away like a criminal?"
Each word is a knife, cutting deeper than any physical wound. Liam cries harder, sensing my distress, and I hold him tighter.
"You kicked me out," I remind him, my voice shaking. "You told me I was a whore and a slut. You said I was dead to you. So, I became dead to you. You don't get to come back now and pretend you care."
"We care about that innocent baby," my mother says, tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't deserve to suffer because of your mistakes."
"He's not suffering! He's loved and fed and safe!"
"He's living in this dump!" My father gestures at the small rental house with disgust. "Look at this place, Ruby. You can barely afford rent. How are you going to afford diapers? Food? Medical care? What happens when he gets sick?"
The words hit too close to my deepest fears. The fears that keep me awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I'm enough. If my love is enough when I can barely keep us fed.
"I'll figure it out," I say, but my voice wavers.
"You don't have to figure it out alone," my mother pleads. "Just come home. We'll help you. We'll—"
"You'll take my baby." I cut her off. "That's what this is really about. You don't want to help me. You want to take him and give him to Jennifer because you're embarrassed by me. Because having a twenty-year-old single mother for a daughter doesn't fit your perfect family image."
My mother flinches, and I know I've hit the truth. Marcus is still holding his nose, blood dripping between his fingers.
"You bitch," he spits at me. "You crazy bitch. You're going to regret this. I'll take you to court. I'll prove you're an unfit mother—"
"With what money?" the stranger asks, his voice cutting through Marcus's threats. "You planning to pay child support while you fight for custody? Because that's how this works. You can't just show up after two years of nothing and demand rights."
"It's been two years because she ran away!" Marcus shouts. "She kept my son from me!"
