Page 82 of Her Filthy Grump

I’ve got to know. Lord, I can’t believe I’m asking this question. “Did you ever wonder if all of us were yours?”

“Son.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter who’s blood runs through any of your veins. I loved each one of you from the day I saw you. I wanted to be a dad, and she wasn’t capable of being a mother. I’ve never regretted it for one minute.”

I lean forward, set the beer on the coffee table, and rest my elbows on my knees with my chin supported by my laced together hands. “Why didn’t you talk about this earlier?”

“You had enough on your plate when you were a kid. You had school, your friends, your overwhelming need to protect your siblings, and three jobs. You didn’t have time to worry about your old man.”

“Was it her idea to leave the last time?” My mind drifts back to the night she left. My memories are filled with screaming and the thrashing of pots and pans off the kitchen wall–the wall between my bedroom and the kitchen.

“No. I told her to go. She’d promised to take her medication again, but it was too late. I couldn’t have her revolving in and out of your lives.” He tips the beer and takes a long drink.

Would knowing the details have changed anything? Not at the time. It didn’t matter–I hadn’t met Layla.

Now it feels like my entire future is resting on the answers to this conversation. It feels like a vice is squeezing my heart until it puffs out into pockets that are about to explode, making it hard to breathe.

“Am I like her?” My knee bounces as my heel raises and lowers on the carpet. “Am I the type of person who can’t commit?”

“Kameron.” My dad gives me a weak smile and shakes his head. “You’re the epitome of commitment. At twelve years old, you insisted you were going to take care of your siblings. You aced school and took on three jobs. You busted your ass every day. I never once asked you to do any of that. I appreciated it.” He shrugs. “Maybe I took advantage of it.” He flushes and works the can from one hand to the other. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t.” I sit up and wave him off as I replay his words.

“I’m proud of you, son. You’re a fantastic man. You’ve already committed your life to one family. It’s time you made your own.”

The vice snaps open as if its finally releasing me from the confines of my self-imposed imprisonment. I’ve lived under the mistaken belief that I don’t know how to be in a relationship, but that was bullshit. I was only running from getting hurt again. My mom being in and out of my life was a roller coaster, and I’ve been terrified I’d fall for someone like that.

Layla couldn’t be less like my mom if she tried. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Not for a long time. The last time, she was still cycling between taking and not taking her medication.”

I nod. “Maybe someday I’ll be ready to see her again.” Once I’ve buried my fears, I can look her up. But now, my dad’s right. I need to focus on making things right with Layla.

“That’s a good idea.” He raises from his recliner and walks over to me. “If I knew you were harboring the belief you weren’t husband and father material, I would have told you this years ago. I thought you were just playing the field.”

“Dad, it’s fine. I wasn’t ready to hear it yet. I needed to meet Layla, first. To find the woman who’s worth fighting for.” I swallow. “You’re right. I need to apologize for not telling her the truth and ask for forgiveness.”

“That’s good, son,” he beams as I stand, and then he wraps his arms around me. “I love you. You’ve turned into a hell of a good man.”

“Thanks.” Tears fill my eyes as I embrace him. I need to get back to Meadow Bay, but I needed this conversation just as much.

“I’ve got something for you.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Layla

I pace the same strip of linoleum in my kitchen for twenty-five minutes while waiting for Harbor to return from the drugstore.

It took too much effort for me to go. I barely made it through my shower and getting dressed. But now, I’m regretting the decision to have her retrieve the pregnancy test. I’m going to die from the lack of control.

“Hurry up.” I glare at the open front door and spin on my heel again to tread back to the sink. I grab my phone off the counter.

Me: What’s taking so long?

Seconds later, she responds.

Harbor: Did you want me to get it in Meadow Bay?

Shit, no. Everyone would know before she got back to my place. Of course, they’d think it was her. That’s not such a bad idea. I’d rather it was her than me.