Chapter 8

Brock

I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t even seem real. Everything I had thought I knew about Ashley was a lie. The woman had run away with my baby without even giving me a hint she was pregnant. She had always been so honest with me. I just couldn’t wrap my head around what she’d done. She didn’t just leave me at the altar. She left me and took our baby with her without a word.

She had a baby. I had a baby. A son. A son who looked a lot like me. She had been in New York all this time, raising a child on her own. But why? That couldn’t have been easy. Why would she have felt so strongly about not letting me be involved? I felt like a deadbeat dad now because I’d never paid a dime of child support. I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.

I thought back to the weeks and months before the wedding. I didn’t notice any changes in her body, and I knew her body so well. Had the clues been there and I’d ignored them?

My truck bouncing over a large bump in the driveway made me realize I was going a little too fast, so I slowed down, realizing I was driving as fast as my mind was racing. A million thoughts ran through my head. Would I have ever known about my son if her dad hadn’t gotten sick? I knew the answer to that. No. She would have never told me. I would have gone my whole life not knowing I had a son out there.

It wasn’t right, but I was sure as hell going to make it right. I was going to make her pay for the time I had lost with my son. She could fight me all she wanted, but I had rights. I deserved to know my own kid.

“Why?” I said aloud. “Why would she do that?”

I racked my brain trying to figure out what had prompted her to run away with my child. We had talked about starting a family together. We both wanted kids. We talked about living in an apartment for a few years and then moving into the family home to take over the farm. None of her siblings wanted it. She did. Or at least she had said she did. She knew I wanted kids. It made no sense.

“Dammit!”

I reached for my phone, quickly scrolled through my contacts, and called my attorney’s office.

“Good morning. This is Brock Trenton. I need to speak with Bob. Is he in?”

I waited while his secretary checked.

“Brock! What can I do for you?” my attorney said, coming on the line.

“I just found out I have a son. Five years old. What do I need to do to get visitation—custody or whatever? What are my rights?”

He whistled low. “Are you on the birth certificate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, first thing we need to do is get a DNA test. Will the mother let you get a DNA swab?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know.”

“Well, DNA is the best proof you can get. If she is going to fight, you will need the DNA. I can get a court order, but that will take some time. Do you want me to file?” he asked, clearly eager for more billable hours.

“Not yet. Let me talk to her and see if she will submit to a DNA test,” I told him, suddenly hesitant to go in guns blazing. If we could manage to keep it somewhat friendly, that would be far better.

“Okay. So once you get that, then we can start the paperwork to get your parental rights restored. Keep in mind, you will have to pay child support, and if she puts up a big fuss, she can try to go after you for back support,” he warned.

“Fine. I don’t care. I’ll pay.”

“I’ll do some figuring and get back to you later today. I don’t handle a lot of family law, but we’ll get you taken care of, Brock,” he promised.

Of course his firm would. I was a good client. It did help that he already had all my tax information and would know what kind of dollar amount I was looking at for child support. I didn’t care. I wanted my son.

“Thanks, Bob. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“All right. Well good luck and keep in touch,” he said, hanging up the phone.

I ended the call. That had probably just cost me a hundred bucks, but at least I knew where to start. If only she would be reasonable and just let me see him. I was definitely willing to pay. I would not be one of those guys who knocked a woman up and then moved on, never seeing or supporting the child.

I grabbed my phone again. “Helen?” I said when she answered.

“Yes, Brock?”

“Do I have anything on my schedule?”

She was silent a moment. “Not that I can see.”

“Good. I won’t be coming back in this morning. Maybe this afternoon, but I have some errands to run.”

“Okay. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Fine,” I said a little too hastily.

“Brock, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me nothing. I know you too well. You sound upset,” she said.

I took a deep breath. While I really wanted to lay my troubles on someone, it couldn’t be Helen. We had to keep a professional relationship even though it was anything but. She was always meddling in my affairs.

“Helen, I just need some time to take care of some things. I’ll be fine in a bit. I’m going for a run,” I finally conceded, just telling her the truth.

“Oh, gotcha. That’s all you had to say. Have a good run. That always helps you,” she said in her motherly tone.

“Yes, it does. Thanks, Helen.”

“Okay. Well if there is anything I can do, you say the word.”

“Thanks. Gotta go now,” I said before ending the call.

I drove straight home, barely paying attention to my surroundings. My mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, which made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. I was going to hit the trail. I needed a punishing run, uphill. I loved the feel of the ground beneath my feet versus the hard, unforgiving pavement. The scenery was far better and the workout more grueling. I quickly changed into a pair of shorts, put on my trail shoes, grabbed my phone, my earbuds, and a bottle of water, and headed out the door. What I needed was a little me time.

I drove to the trailhead and parked my truck. I stripped off my shirt, knowing it was going to be hot on my run. I slathered on the sunscreen that I kept in my truck for occasions like this. I was tanned, but I wasn’t trying to get burned. The last thing I needed to deal with right now was a painful sunburn. I did a few stretches and then set off jogging up the trail, inhaling the scent of trees and moss as I went.

As I ran, I thought about the past six years. Ashley should have told me she didn’t want the life we had planned out. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she had let me think she wanted the same things I did. It wasn’t until I read the shitty note she’d left behind that I learned she wanted adventure. I could have been adventurous!

I would have understood. Hell, I didn’t want that life we had talked about now that I had my own business and had grown up some. I liked my life as it was. Yes, it was a little lonely, but I wouldn’t change it. I liked coming and going as I pleased. I liked choosing what jobs I wanted and rejecting the ones I had no interest in. I wasn’t the same person I was six years ago. Time and maturity had changed me. She had changed me. I often thought about what my life would have been like had we married that day. Would we have been happy, or would we have ended up in a nasty divorce, fighting over custody of the kids?

I laughed. We had somehow ended up there anyway. We were lucky we didn’t have the divorce to deal with, but we had a kid—together. It still blew my mind.

I took out my earbuds. I wasn’t in the mood for music. I wanted silence. I had too much noise in my head and needed the quiet to try to sort through it all. Everything had blown up in my world with one look at a little boy. He looked a lot like I had when I was little. His face popped into my mind, and I smiled. The boy looked intelligent, and not just because he had glasses on. It was the way his eyes had studied me. He looked wise beyond his years. But of course he was smart; I was his dad. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride at that thought.

I had made a baby, a real human. It was amazing to think about how little humans were formed. I did see elements of Ashley in the boy, but there was no denying he was my child. Now that I was over the initial shock, I was excited to know the kid. What did he like? Was he funny? What foods did he hate? He looked healthy enough. Was he athletic? There was so much I needed to know.

I found myself smiling as I ran up the hill. Ashley had to let me know him. I realized then that I didn’t even know the kid’s name! What the hell? I struggled to remember what she had called him when she’d ordered him away from me. I had been so shocked, I didn’t even remember walking toward her. I’d been so focused on the little boy standing next to her that everything else had been blocked out.

I reached the top of the trail and took a few minutes to slow my breathing. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was my lawyer, so I let it go to voice mail. I could wait to hear how much it was going to cost me to get my son in my life. I didn’t care what the cost was. That was merely a formality. He would be in my life. I would know all the things about him a father should know about a son. I would take him to ball games and teach him how to fish.

I had to get the DNA test. I knew all about the swabs, but I wasn’t sure Ashley would go for that. If I didn’t have to, I didn’t want to get a court order. You could catch more flies with honey. Keeping the courts out of this as much as possible would be better for all of us. I started my run back down the trail. I would do some research. Hair was a possibility, but I had no idea if that was only in the movies or the real deal. I would damn sure know by the end of the day.

By the time I made it back to my truck, I had a goal. I was still pissed and admittedly hurt, but I was now determined to have a relationship with my child. First things first. I had to find a way to get some DNA from the kid.

How hard could that be?