I sit in the reception area and rub my hands over my pants. No matter how many times I brush my damp palms over the denim, it doesn’t wick away the sweat coating my fingers. I feel raw. Like every inch of my skin is painfully new and being exposed to the world for the first time. This morning feels like a lifetime ago. Like the fragmented images of a dream that haunts you from time to time, but you can’t place the reason why.

I can’t believe Janet was pregnant and she never told me. My mind has been reeling since I hung up the phone this morning.

When we broke it off, she didn’t even hint that she knew she was carrying my child. Did she know then? I’ve been combing over the details I can recall of how we ended things.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jackson.” Her eyes were already red, like she’d spent the entire night crying.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I had thought we were doing great. We’d been together for almost a year and we still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“I can’t be with a man who’s already in love with something else. I can’t spend my life competing for your time, for your attention, for you.” She sniffled and tucked her long, red hair behind her ears.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” I stepped into her and tried to wrap my arms around her, but she crossed her arms, eyes cast down to her feet. “You know there’s nobody but you, babe. Why are you saying that?”

“Jackson, I’m not talking about another woman.” She breathed out hard and her lips quivered. “I’m talking about the SEALs. That’s your true first love, and”—her voice cracked—“it always will be. The best I can do is be a distant second in your life. We need more than that.” Her gaze remained fixated to the floor.

“We need more than that.” At the time she said it, I assumed she meant that she and I needed more. Is that what she meant? Or did she already know there was another person who would need more time, more love, more of me than I could possibly give?

“Mr. Wilcox?”

My head snaps up to attention at the woman standing in front of me. She holds out her hand to greet me, an uncertain smile resting on her lips.

I stand up on shaky legs and wrap my hand around hers, shaking it gently. “Yes”—I nod—“that’s me.”

“Come with me, sir, we have quite a bit to talk about.” She turns and her long skirt flings out around her ankles before twirling in tight against her legs like an umbrella being closed around the handle. My eyes briefly flicker over her loosely twisted bun of graying hair as I follow her down the hall to her office.

I scan the room, happy for the reminder of her name attached to the office door. I was already feeling so much that I could barely process what she was telling me on the phone, let alone remember her name.

Doreen Vickers - Director of Child Welfare Services

I sit down without waiting for her to offer me a seat, pressing my lips tight together, hoping she can make sense of all this for me. I know I can’t take care of a child. Hell, I can’t even look after myself. But I need Doreen here to reassure me that someone else will do the job. I need to know this isn’t just one more thing I fuck up in the world. The child, my child, needs to be well taken care of.

“Mr. Wilcox, thank you for coming in on such short notice.” Her darkly stained lips smile at me, but I don’t have the heart to return it.

“No problem,” I answer gruffly, clearing my throat.

“I’ll get right to it.” She shuffles a folder on her desk. “As I told you on the phone, Janet Millville was unfortunately killed in a car accident last week.”

“Was the child in the car? Did she get hurt?” I manage to ask through gritted teeth, my gut twisting up into knots at the idea of the little girl watching her mother die.

“No, no. Nothing like that. She was in daycare when it happened.” The warmth of her brown eyes surrounds me almost like a mother’s hug.

“Good.” I nod.

“So, Janet had a will and in it she expressed that she wanted you to have full custody of your daughter if anything happened to her,” Doreen explains.

I slowly shake my head. I know Janet didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but she was really close to her parents. “I didn’t even know I had a daughter. Doesn’t it make more sense for her to go to her grandparents? She has no idea who I am.” I rub my hand down over my neck.

“Apparently Janet’s father was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease and it has progressed pretty quickly. He’s already lost mobility in his limbs. Her mother was giving him full-time care, but then took a nasty fall that resulted in a spiral fracture. The doctors informed her she has osteoporosis and that caring for a young child is physically impossible for her.” Doreen frowns slightly at the folder.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Sorry, I mean, I just meant that’s awful.” I can’t even begin to understand the pain her mother must be suffering through. First to watch her husband slowly become a shell of the man she once knew, then to lose her only child only to top it all off with a debilitating disease herself. It’s like life just stabbed her in the gut and then twisted the knife right up into her heart.

“It is,” Doreen agrees. “Both of her parents are receiving outside care right now. That’s why Janet made the arrangements for you to take custody if anything should happen to her. Now, I know this is a lot to process, but obviously the best interest of the child is the priority here. So, if there’s any reason you can’t or won’t be able to take in Chloe, we are prepared to put her into the foster care system and try to find a good match for her.”

I bite my tongue. I refuse to tell her that I can think of more than a few reasons why I should never be responsible for a child. Mainly the fact that I was ready to blow my brains out this morning. Maybe I should tell her. The kid would probably find a better family in the system.

But what if she doesn’t?

What if I sign those papers and the little girl goes from watching her grandfather deteriorate and losing her mother to a life of loneliness and abuse? What if my ‘responsible decision’ is the worst thing I could ever do for her? What if, in fifteen years, she ends up sitting at a kitchen table with a gun tucked under her chin all because I decided I was too broken to even try to give her a good life?

“No, I’ll take custody of her,” I find myself saying the words with a force, with a conviction, I haven’t felt in a long time. My daughter needs me. And maybe there’s a part of me that needs her too.

“Are you certain?” Doreen peers across the desk at me. “Would you like some time to think it over more?”

Everything inside me screams that I’m not certain. I’m not ready for this. I don’t even know if I can do it. I don’t have the first clue about raising a little girl. Outside, I keep my face stony, never revealing the swirling cyclone of emotions rushing around in my gut.

“I don’t need any time. I’ll do it.”

“Okay then.” Doreen beams at me, her brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “There’s a lot of paperwork to go over and some hoops to jump through, but we can get through most of it pretty quickly.” She opens up the file folder and grabs a pen.

“Great,” I answer flatly. All I can do is hope this isn’t the worst decision I’ve ever made. It’s one thing to fuck up my own life, but I can’t stand the idea of doing anything but my best for this little girl.