Page 116 of At The End Of The Day

A pile of Piera’s freshly laundered clothes on the wide shelf in the laundry room, I was grinning as I folded each tiny piece of clothing. Holding up a Transformers tee shirt, I snickered. Goddamn, I loved being a father. I had a daughter, but she was a tomboy, so she liked stuffed animals, dolls, and robots. She was literally the best of both worlds.

The cane clicked on the floors in the kitchen and my heart spun around, widening the smile. I’d never felt this before, this sense of utter peace and contentment. Having sounds in this house, other than me roaming around aimlessly, daydreaming, was incredible. No more longing for something I could never have, I actually had it!

“Wow,” I whispered and then whistled, still in disbelief how much had changed the last few weeks.

There was a small bang from the kitchen and the cane clattered to the floor. Instant fear hitting my gut, I tossed the clothes aside and rushed from the laundry room, turning left down the hallway. My heart lodged in my throat, I shouted his name, getting no answer.

“Oh, shit.”

Did he fall? Everything had been healing so well and quickly, what happened?

At the end of the hallway, my feet skidded to a halt, the skin squeaking the hardwood floors. Panting, my arms were spread out in defense mode as I stared at him standing in the kitchen. His chin on his chest, he was clutching an envelope. Hyperventilating, his complexion was maroon, his eyes bulging.

I licked my dry lips and coughed, approaching cautiously. “Baby? You okay?”

He was visibly trembling and swaying, a foot stomping out to the side to hold his balance.

“Dash?”

His head jerked, his attention snatching to mine. Unshed tears welling, he was now violently shaking, holding up the envelope.

“What? What is it? You’re freaking me out, man.”

Vigorously shaking his head, he extended his arm and backed up, letting it go. It fluttered to the floor, and he slammed into the corner between the sink and stove. Fisting his hair at his temples, he stammered, “I-I-I-I don’t wanna know. Th-Throw i-i-it away.”

Confused, I closed the distance in a few wide strides. Holding his stare, my arm curved over my stomach, and I grunted to swipe it up. Finally looking away, I read the return address and my blood froze solid.

“Oh, shit.”

“I thought we had to go down there, man. What the fuck is that?”

“I…I don’t know, baby. With Letta, we did have to go back down there. We don’t have an appointment until tomorrow. I… didn’t know they mailed the DNA results.”

“Throw it away,” he barked, slicing his arms through the air while limping around the island.

“Dash,” I argued, shrugging my hands out, the envelope slapping to my thigh.

“No, no, goddammit!” He spun around by the dining room table, seething, his eyes bloodshot. “She’s mine, goddammit!” he shouted, jabbing his chest with his thumb.

“Of course, she is. This ain’t nothing—”

“Then burn it. Tear it up and burn it, Vinny.”

I scoffed, my shoulders slumping. “C’mon, Dash. We did the test, we got the results…we may as well check.”

“She’s mine!” he bellowed so hard, he shook.

Startled, I bristled and blinked. “Baby, no one is taking her from you. This don’t go no further than me and you. She’s yours.”

His head bobbing awkwardly, his nostrils were flaring in and out. “She’s ours, Vinny. The Boss can’t have her.”

Taken aback, my jaw practically hit the floor, stunned. Ever since telling him the truth about Ross and Jackyl, he’d been acting weird, but I never put the pieces together. I figured he was just processing the shocking truth, like I had when I was told. “Whoa, is that what this is about?”

His Adam’s apple kept jerking, his fists shaking at his sides.

Clucking my teeth and rolling my eyes, I deflated, bowing my chin to rub the spot between them. “Jesus, babe.” I rounded the island and crept closer. “Ross Murphey ain’t taking our daughter. He don’t even know about this,” I offered, waving the envelope. “Even if he did, he don’t want no babies. The man’s in his sixties. Besides,” I stated firmly, grabbing his chin, my thumb and fingers curling around his cheeks to hold him still. “Claiming her would mean claiming Jackyl, and we both know that ain’t happening.”

He was giving very tiny nods, but the panic was still shimmering in his light brown irises with the stunning golden chips.