Page 37 of Fractured Destiny

Noa’s eyes are wet, now. She’s watched me process all of this in real time.

I clear my throat. “When can we meet with the therapist?”

“Well. Should we exchange numbers?” She blinks. “I can text you options.”

“No. All of this goes through Linus.” I shake my head. There’s no way I’m letting her back into my life until I meet with a lawyer and figure out what my rights are.

She nods. “Fair.”

I lean back in the chair with Levi’s photograph in my hand and stare at the little boy who has my eyes, his mother’s chin, and two and a half years of life I’ll never get back.

Today’s been possibly the worst day of my life.

But also, possibly, the best.

ten

Three Months Later

Today my life changes forever.

Part of me is relieved. The heavy weight I’ve been carrying might finally feel bearable.

Mostly, I’m terrified of losing my baby.

The tide leaves ribbons of kelp tangled around driftwood. Smooth stones gleam where the water has washed over them all morning.

Levi wanders the shoreline, stopping every few steps to inspect another treasure. He rubs the sand from a pebble with his thumb, holds it up to the light, then slips it into his pocket with quiet satisfaction. The next one earns a quick shake of his head before he flings it back toward the water.

His left pocket hangs almost to his knee.

“Wock.” He stretches his arm behind him without turning around.

I can’t hide my smile. My boy has my whole heart. “I see it.”

“Mine.” He pats his bulging pocket then sets off in search of another prize, rubber boots sinking into the damp sand with determined little stomps.

We’ve walked this stretch of Alki beach often enough I could probably do it blindfolded. Levi heads for the same driftwood log. Stomps in the same shallow pools. Fills the same pockets until his coat lists to one side and I end up carrying half his collection home.

Movement catches my eye near the parking lot. A black SUV pulls into a space beside the Pepperdock restaurant.

Lake climbs out alone. No rock star entourage hovering nearby to rescue him from whatever happens next.

He closes the door and stands stoically. The distance between us couldn’t be more than forty yards. His eyes gravitate to Levi almost immediately.

A myriad of emotions flutter across his expression before he’s able to take a deep breath and steady himself.

We’ve gone through weeks of therapy. Engaged in careful conversations. All leading to this moment where he’s introduced to his son.

The magical, perfect Levi.

Who has no idea he’s about to meet his dad.

My boy crouches near the tide line, digs another rock from the sand, frowns at it, then drops it into his pocket beside the others.

Lake crosses the street and starts toward us. When he’s in proximity, he shoves his hands into the front pouch of a charcoal hoodie. He looks less like the man who sells out venues and more like someone headed out for coffee on a weekday morning. Smooth cocoa skin. Dark jeans. Scuffed boots. A black knit cap pulled low over his blond curls.

“Hi.” His smile flickers into place, then disappears almost as quickly.