I want to jump in and rescue her. I want to put a protective bubble around both of them and shield them from any further pain, but I know it isn’t possible. Not only do I not have a cure for cancer, but there’s a very slim chance Tinley will ever trust me to keep her safe again. I destroyed that chance the night I broke her heart by telling her she was just a great piece of ass, one that I was tired of.
When my phone alarm goes off, telling me it’s time to hit the road for the paternity test, I spend the entire drive over wondering what type of butterfly effect my actions that night had on her life.
If I’d stayed, or asked her to stay, would things be different? If we were together when Alex was born, would that have somehow altered Cooper’s work schedule to the point he wasn’t at work that day the crane fell and ripped him from their lives? Would Cooper not dying mean that Brooke would have better insurance than the Medicare she’s currently on? Would that in turn give her more options for treatment?
Could all of this pain and suffering been avoided if I hadn’t thought I was doing the right thing by shoving her out of my life that night?
Did I cause all of this?
Chapter 6
Tinley
The second my phone buzzes in my pocket, my heart nearly stops. It’s been almost a week since Ignacio showed up on my mother’s front porch, and although the text message I sent him about the paternity test showed read, he hasn’t shown his face since.
The continued buzzing can mean one of two things. Either Alex is in trouble again or Ignacio got the test results.
Either way, it’s horrible news. I finish checking out the people in my line at work and tell my manager I’m going on break.
I never thought I’d breathe a sigh of relief at seeing a missed call from the school, but right now, that’s the lesser of two evils.
The front office receptionist seems slightly aggravated when I tell her I won’t be able to leave work early to pick Alex up since he’s been in another fight and suspended for three days this time. But she understands what it could cost me if I leave work early once again. She explains that he’ll be assigned in-school suspension until the end of the day.
Before my break is over, and right in the middle of my consideration to start drinking to calm my nerves from stress, I get another call from the school.
“I swear if he got into a fight in ISS, I’m going to—Hello?” I say when the call connects.
“Tinley?”
“Mike,” I say on a sigh.
The middle school principal was my science teacher in high school. He always had a little more compassion for the kids that needed it the most and that included Ignacio Torres.
“What has he done now?”
“The usual,” he relays as if boys getting into fistfights is an everyday occurrence, and maybe for him it is. “He didn’t start it this time. That’s the only thing that’s keeping him out of the alternative school.”
“Maybe that would be better,” I confess out loud. The staff at the disciplinary campus isn’t going to send him home every time Alex decides to bow up to someone on campus. They’re trained to deal with rougher kids, and I even hate thinking of my son that way, but his recent behavior isn’t winning him any citizenship awards.
“You know how things are over there. If you think things are bad with him, going there will only make it worse. I’m doing my best to keep him out of that place.”
I want to argue that his lack of follow-through will only give him more reason to misbehave, but I know the man is doing his best. He cares more than any educator I’ve ever met, and Alex is lucky the man is on his side.
“I know,” I agree.
“Besides, I think things may be turning around.”
“How so?”
“I know Alex will benefit from a positive male role model in his life.”
I freeze with the phone to my ear, my heart pounding in an uneven rhythm.
Of course, he knows Ignacio is in town, and although I’ve never confessed my son’s paternity to anyone other than my parents’, Michael Branford is a smart man. Not only does Alex look exactly like his father, but he also behaves just the same as well. I’ve seen the stubborn set of Ignacio’s jaw on Alex’s face since he was a baby getting annoyed with blocks that wouldn’t stack just right, and a million times since.
“Mike,” I whisper. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to him?”
“To Alex or his dad?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Either of them.”
“I haven’t. It’s not my place to reach out to persons not listed as contacts in a student’s file. That would be unethical.”