Page 2 of Lost
Zack was shaking his head before Chris finished asking. That had always been the joke they’d made together: that they would pay these women to go away. He could have handled giving a desperate woman her fifteen minutes of fame. He could even handle having to pay off all that missed child support, since the boy was really his. But this? This was something he wasnotprepared for.
“She’s dead,” he told his friends. Was it the words that tasted bitter on his tongue, or was that the aftertaste of the whiskey? “About two weeks now.”
Silence, much heavier than before. He rose again, heading back to the bottle while his friends processed what he’d told them. He twisted off the cap as he examined their faces. Pat and Brendan shared hard looks, a silent conversation darting between them. Chris looked sympathetic. Aaron couldn’t hide his confusion.
“So...what’s that mean?” the young drummer asked, looking between the rest of them. “Does that mean...?”
“He just inherited a kid.” This explanation from Pat, closely followed by, “Jesus Christ.”
Zack raised the bottle before taking another deep drink from it.
Two days. He had two days to prepare for the boy’s arrival. Nowhere near enough time to prepare for being aparent. Even thinking the word made him grimace.
What could he even do to prepare? It wasn’t like he could follow a New Child Checklist and put together a nursery and supplies. He had a guest room already equipped with furniture the kid could use and, at fifteen, he was sure the boy already had a heap of clothes and personal belongings he would be bringing along. Was he supposed to put locks on the liquor cabinets? Put his cigarettes somewhere the teen wouldn’t be able to reach them? He set the whiskey bottle down and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“A fifteen-year-old boy.” He ran another hand through his hair. “He gets here in two days. That’s all I know right now.”
“Two days?!” Chris practically choked on the words.
“Fifteen?” Brendan repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve had a kid for fifteen years and you’re only just finding out?”
Zack nodded. There would be time to unpack that particular can of worms later. For now, he needed to focus on the boy that would be moving into his space. A boy he’d never met, who probably already resented him for being absent, who was only coming because neither of them had any other choice.
He couldn’t do this.
Hecouldn’t do this.
Most of the colour had drained from Aaron’s face. Chris watched the rest of them with interest, though didn’t contribute to the conversation. Zack didn’t blame him — neither of them were ready for children. That was always a conversation best left to Pat, who was trying, and Brendan, who already had an eight-month-old daughter. That was the way they liked it. That was the way it was meant to stay, at least for the next few years.
Zack’s stomach roiled; his head spun. He was going to be sick.
“Just relax,” Pat said. Easy for him to say. His life hadn’t been flipped upside down. “The kid’s fifteen — he’ll practically take care of himself. All you really need to do is keep a roof over his head and make sure there’s food in the house. Anything else, you figure out along the way.”
Zack could only hope.
Somebody presented him with a beer, and he cracked it open without a second thought. He would need it, he reasoned. Telling his friends had only been the first step — there were still his parents and his wife who needed to be told. Georgia was going to be the hardest to deal with. How many times had she begged him to start a family with her? How many times had he declined?
And what would the kid be like? If he was anything like Zack had been at fifteen, there was going to be trouble. How many times had he come home bruised from fighting? How often had he snuck out to drink himself stupid and smoke whatever he could get his hands on? His mother had always said karma would come back to bite him once he had children of his own, but he’d never actually believed her.
“I oughta head off.” Chris slapped Zack on the back as he stood. “Good luck, man. You know where I am if you need anything.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Zack simply nodded.
He opted to clean up while Chris made his exit. He’d never minded the mess of empty bottles and cans before, but now he couldn’t help but think on how it must have made him look. Brendan’s house was always spotless — nothing less than perfect for his little Melody. Would that be expected of Zack, too? Would somebody be coming to check his house to make sure it was a suitable environment for the boy? Hiskid.
He cleared away the bottles faster.
He heard Pat say something to Brendan and Aaron, and within seconds the pair were saying their farewells to Zack, Aaron scrambling for the door while Brendan wished him luck and reminded him that they would be there whenever he needed them. He nodded his thanks and watched them go, leaving him alone with his oldest friend. His back was to the man as he dumped several bottles into the trash, but he could feel Pat’s eyes on him.
“Sit,” Pat instructed again.
Zack didn’t have the energy to protest.
His hands went back to his dark hair, making fists.Breathe. Just breathe.It was a joke, he decided. It had to be. He had never heard of Samantha Maverick, and there was no way inhellhe could have a fifteen-year-old son without having known. This was some sick, twisted prank that somebody was pulling, and Maria was obviously in on it. He swallowed. If that were the case, he’d fire her so fast—
“We’ll call Maria,” Pat said, the voice of reason cutting through Zack’s thoughts, “and get all the information you’ll need. I’ll help you get things sorted.”
He didn’t want to get things sorted. He wanted to pinch himself and wake up. Pat went on to say something more, but Zack couldn’t focus on the words. He took several deep breaths to steady himself, to calm the swirl of emotions in his chest. He pushed them aside one at a time — disbelief, anger, utter helplessness. He needed to think. Hecouldn'tthink.
