It’s like the world has stopped moving. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. I can hear my dad’s voice, but it feels like it’s coming from far away. His hands are on me, pulling me out of the room,but I’m not really there. I feel like I’m floating. Ten years. Ten years without Cole. My entire world has shattered, and I don’t know how to put it back together.
The tears come again, uncontrollable. I can’t stop them. I feel like my entire life is falling apart.
Ten years.
Ten years without him. How will I survive that?
Chapter Twenty-Six
DAD’S IN SESSION
COLE-PRESENT
The past coupleof days have been filled with memories I’ll never forget. Getting to spend time with Cohen and Kenna has been a whirlwind of emotions. I feel that with every moment that passes, I’m getting closer to understanding what it means to be a father.
It’s hard to explain the pull I feel toward him. Every time Cohen looks up at me with that wide-eyed expression, or when he does something so effortlessly sweet, I fall a little deeper into this role I’m only just beginning to understand. I never thought I would be here, in this place—looking at a child, knowing that I’m his dad. It still feels unreal, like it could all be a dream. But when I see that boy smile at me, or when I hear him say something funny, or when he reaches out with that trust I didn’t expect, my heart swells. He’s my son. And as each day passes, it feels more real.
I never expected to feel this kind of protectiveness. Cohen has a way of drawing you in—his soft, caring nature just tugs at something inside of me. It’s almost as if he doesn’t even realize how special he is, how much his kindness changes everyone around him. He’s so thoughtful, so considerate. He’s a little boy, but sometimes it feels like he’s wise beyond his years. And I think about Kenna, how she’s raised him so well. I can see it inthe way he looks at people, the way he holds doors open for strangers, the way he listens so carefully when someone speaks. She’s done an incredible job. She’s everything I could have hoped for in a partner, even though I haven’t found the courage to tell her how I feel just yet. I’m scared of messing things up—of rushing into something we’re both still figuring out.
I know all parents probably feel this way about their kids, but I really believe Cohen is something special. He’s taken to me so quickly, and I couldn’t be prouder of Kenna for the incredible job she has done raising our boy. Watching them together makes me fall even more in love with the idea of being in their lives.
The days have flown by, each one more overwhelming than the last. The whole time, there’s this feeling in the pit of my stomach—a mix of joy and fear. There’s so much I want to get right, so much I still need to figure out. But every laugh, every new piece of information Cohen shares with me, makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I’m doing okay.
Kenna and I haven’t talked much about when exactly we’re going to tell Cohen that I’m his dad. We both know it’s something we need to do, but neither of us has said the words yet. There’s a hesitation, this fear of what might happen. How will he take it? Will he understand? I’m terrified of pushing him too fast, of confusing him. He’s already attached to me in such a sweet, innocent way, and I don’t want to do anything that would make him feel uncertain or hurt.
She’s been so patient with me. She’s a total rockstar mom, and I really respect her for it. I want to be careful with Cohen to make sure he feels safe and comfortable. I know telling him isn’t something that’s going to happen overnight, but I also know it needs to happen at some point. We haven’t set a date yet, and honestly, I think we’re both just trying to figure out the right time.
In a way, I don’t know if I’m stalling for his sake or mine. There’s a strange pressure in knowing a moment is going to shape the rest of your life. I already lost years with him. I don’t want to ruin what time is to come.
I’ve been thinking about all the conversations I’ve had with my mom. I never told her about Cohen before—at least, not in any proper sense. She knew I was in a complicated situation, but I hadn’t shared the details. I thought maybe I’d tell her eventually, when things were clearer in my mind. But now, sitting in her living room, I can’t hold back anymore. I have to tell her.
“You’re a grandmother,” I tell her, trying to hold back a smile as I speak. The words feel strange coming from my mouth, but they feel good, too. “Cohen…he’s my son.”
My mom looks at me, her eyes wide with shock, and then pure joy. “What? What do you mean? Is this true?”
I nod, feeling this weight lift off me just from saying it out loud. It feels like the truth is finally coming into the light, even if it’s just one small piece of it. “Kenna found out she was pregnant a few months after I went to jail. She was nervous about what people would say, so she told everyone Cohen was a cousin. I didn’t know about him until recently.”
Mom looks like she’s going to burst into tears, but she holds it together. “Oh, Cole, I’m so happy. I’m going to meet my grandbaby! When can I see him?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, Mom. Cohen doesn’t know I’m his father yet. I want to get to know him first before I tell him. We’re taking it slow. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
I watch my mom’s face soften with understanding. She looks like she wants to argue, to push for more, but she just nods and smiles. “I understand. But when you’re ready, I’m here. You know that, right?”
I smile back at her, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. I haven’t been able to talk about this with anyone, and now, for the first time, it feels like the pieces of my life are finally fitting together.
“You would love him, Mom. He’s got this huge heart...he’s gentle. Thoughtful. Like he notices things. He pays attention in ways most adults don’t even bother to.”
She looks at me as if she’s seeing something deeper than whatI said, like maybe she’s seeing me. “Sounds like someone else I know,” she says, and I have to look away before I tear up.
As the days pass, Kenna and I continue to text, keeping the connection between us strong. The messages are simple but meaningful. Little notes here and there about Cohen’s day, about plans for the weekend, about things we should talk about when the time is right. But there’s an unspoken tension between us, a sense of waiting. We know we have to have certain conversations, but neither of us seems ready.
One afternoon, she sends me a message that catches me off guard.
Sunshine
Hey, could you pick up Cohen from school today?
I stop for a second, not sure how to respond. It’s not that I’m not excited about the idea, but I’ve never done something like this before. I want to say yes, but there’s this fear in the back of my mind. What if I mess it up?
