Page 25 of Hot Shot
At exactly nine the next morning I’m getting out of my car and heading toward the coffee shop. My stomach is in knots and I barely slept last night thinking about today.
The only thing getting me through is that after this I’ll hopefully have answers to questions I’ve wondered about my whole life. I just hope I’ll be able to easily figure out who my father is based what he said he’d be wearing.
Sure enough, standing on the sidewalk near the door is a man, probably about six foot, six foot two, gray hair, wearing a gray shirt and jeans, with his back to me.
I clear my throat, hoping this is him. “Jake?”
He turns around, pulling down his sunglasses, and I don’t doubt it’s my father—we have the same hazel eyes.
“Madison,” he says, putting out his hand.
“Hi.” I glance at his hand briefly before taking it and shaking it.
“Sorry, I’m nervous,” he says with a chuckle. “I didn’t think this day would actually come.”
“Me too,” I admit. “Why don’t we go inside out of the heat and get some coffee.”
“Sounds good.” He holds the door open for me.
We order quickly and within a few minutes he’s leading me to a table in the corner.
“Thank you again, Madison, for agreeing to meet me.” His hands shake as he runs them through his hair.
“You’re welcome.”
I fiddle with my empty straw wrapper, glancing anywhere but at Jake because it still feels odd sitting across from him.
I make eye contact with a guy sitting a few tables over, a book in one hand, a coffee in the other. His face goes red when we lock eyes, and he drops his gaze back to his book.
Kind of odd but I am here with the head coach of the Orlando Storm, so maybe the guy recognized him.I give myself a mental shake and try to focus on the man across from me.
“Why’d you never want to be in my life?” I blurt out.
Jake’s face turns red and he pulls on the collar of his shirt.
Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that but it’s been on my mind since he contacted me.
Jake takes a sip of his black coffee before answering. “I didn’t know you existed. Your mother and I dated for a while. I was in love with her and I thought she was in love with me. But one day she abruptly broke up with me. Left Florida.” He waves his hand around. “Moved to Colorado as I’ve now figured out.”
“Oh.” I fiddle with my headband, taking it out and repositioning it. “Wait. You didn’t know I existed? That’s not—she told me . . .”
“She left one day and wouldn’t answer my phone calls. I tried to find her. For weeks. Her parents wouldn’t tell me anything except that she was safe and I needed to respect her desire for no communication. After that I gave up.”
I take a sip of my coffee studying him. I don’t know what to make of him, of this. My mom always told me that he didn’t want me, want us. But now he’s here telling me that’s not the case.
“You believe that I’m your daughter? Without any proof?” I blurt out. It’s been bothering me since he first contacted me. Neither of us have proof that I’m actually his daughter unless my mom somehow had him take a paternity test that I don’t know about.
“Your mom wrote to me a few years back. I saw the name on the envelope and got angry. After all these years she finally decided to contact me? I ignored the letters. Until it was too late.” He grimaces, running a hand over his face.
“She died.” I stare down at the table unable to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry. If I could go back in time, I would have opened those letters. Got in touch with her. But I didn’t.” He takes a deep breath. “Your mom’s lawyer called me after she passed. I finally opened those envelopes and found pictures of you as a little kid and her explanation of what happened. I couldn’t be in denial anymore.”
“Do you want to do a DNA test? I mean if you—“
“Madison,” he interrupts me. “Taking one look at you answered any remaining doubt I had. Heck, seeing your baby pictures answered it. It was like staring at myself as a baby. You have my eyes.”
What he’s saying makes sense. If he spoke to my aunt, spoke to my mom’s lawyer then maybe his story is true. I do wish my mom was still here so I could ask her why she did it. Why she lied to me my whole life but she’s not.
