Page 10 of Sweet Distraction

“Not that I know of. Should I be touched that you care?” I joke.

“Eat shit. You know I care.” He pauses. “You’re acting weird and when you act weird, something’s usually up.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine, brother. Just tired. Just catching up on sleep and choosing to ignore the world for a bit.”

“You sure? You’re worrying us.”

Us. I bark out a laugh. “Ah, so you’re the poor fucker who was picked to check in on me.”

A pause. A chuckle proving I’m right. A surge of love for this family of mine I never expected to have and couldn’t do without. “Something like that,” he says. “I’ll let you get back to your solitude or what-the-fuck-ever you’re doing. Just know we’re here if you need anything. Want to meet up for drinks on Thursday?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He snorts. “Now I’m definitely worried.”

“I—I’m just—” Possibly having a kid by then? Like what the actual fuck do I say? “I’ll get back with you on it. For some reason I think I have something,” I lie.

“Fine. Sure. You know where to find me.”

Hawkin ends the call, and now I feel like shit because I just lied to one of my best friends rather than confide in him. But what good is confiding if this turns out to be nothing?

I don’t even have time to put the phone down before it rings again. Sandra.

My stomach drops at the sight of her name on my screen. I stare at the screen for a long second before answering.

She doesn’t waste any time. “The results came in.”

My fingers flex against my thighs, and my heart thuds violently against my ribs. My throat hurts when I swallow. “Yeah?”

“Gavin . . . she’s yours.”

Those two words explode like a bomb in my head.

I thought I’d braced for the reality of it. Convinced myself that I already knew—that I didn’t need a lab report or a blood test or legal documentation to confirm what I’d felt in my gut.

But this?

This is different.

This is real. Indisputable.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The weight of it compresses my ribs like a vise. My breath burns in my chest. My tongue feels swollen behind my teeth.

I don’t move. Can’t.

Don’t breathe. Don’t think I could if I tried.

She says something else, but I don’t hear it.

Mine.

Fuck me.

She’s mine.

“Sandra.” Her name is barely audible.