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  “Please, Devan, I need this.”

  “Carrie, what you are asking for is life-changing, not just for you, but for me. This decision cannot be taken lightly. It’s not like it’s returnable once you have it, and how would you explain this? Two gay best friends just decided to have a baby for kicks? It’s just crazy to even be talking about this.”

  I ran my hands through my hair in disbelief, and then I looked back over to my best friend, who was now crying. Fuck! Is this really happening? I poured myself another scotch and stayed by the kitchen island to regroup. I already hurt her once tonight, and my refusal now was probably responsible for the tears that were falling down her beautiful face. I pushed the drink away when she walked over to place her hands around my waist.

  She sighed and then said, “If you just want to be the donor, then I will understand and do it on my own. Or we can do this together and be parents, the kind I never had.”

  That one hurt, but it was the truth. Her parents were the biggest assholes to ever walk away from the amazing person that was their daughter. I turned around to face Carrie and then wrapped my arms around her. She breathed me in and took her place on my chest.

  I whispered, “I thought you were okay with your family.”

  “I am. Believe me. The only reason I brought them up is that I know I could be a better parent than either one of them ever was. Devan, you saw how I was raised. Living in that house was a fucking nightmare. When they kicked me out, it was like a gift. I was free.”

  “Honey, do you really believe that? What if that didn’t happen? You may not be here with me now?”

  “Yes, but it did happen, and not every family is like yours. They were never loving like typical people are when they have kids. My father loved his church and the less fortunate he claimed to help, but it was a different story in our home behind closed doors. He was cold to me, and my mother was basically a robot and did exactly what he told her. Even when he was under investigation, she stood by and blindly supported him, but when it came to her only daughter, she allowed him to throw me out.”

  “Dev, you know how much that hurt me, but I survived it because I had you, Paisley, and your parents to love and support me. Please do this for me. I want a baby, and if I can’t have that dream anymore with Paisley, then it has to be you, Devan. You’re the one that I want to father my baby. Please just think about it.”

  I had never heard more honesty come from her mouth than on that night that she poured her heart out to me. I could never say no to Carrie, and even though I knew she would win in the end, I simply responded, “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  Despite my early reservations, she knew I would say yes. How could I ever refuse her? And I would never father a child and not be in its life. What Carrie was proposing was a chance of a lifetime. I knew she wanted the happily ever after with Paisley, and I of course dreamed of sharing my life with someone special, but I hadn’t met him yet, and Paisley was gone. Why the hell not? My parents would be over the moon at the prospect of becoming grandparents, and she would make a great mom.

  I blinked my eyes open and looked over at my workstation clock. Shit! Where did that hour go? It had to be Carrie. Every time our son asked about her, my mind would always drift back to Carrie. It had been years, and I still remembered every detail of our life together like it was yesterday.

  When I finally settled into bed, my dreams were restless. I was back there again reliving one of the darkest times of my life.

  “Son, don’t you think you should call the Harpers?” asked my mom, who was cradling our son in her loving arms.

  “Now why would I do that? They haven’t cared to bother in all these years, so why should I?”

  “Because they are still her parents, and the funeral is tomorrow. Even if they don’t show up, at least you told them.”

  “And what about Paxton? Do you think they have a right to him? Because I sure as hell don’t. You know how Carrie felt about them and what she made me promise. I can’t betray her like that, mom. I won’t.”

  “Devan, I would never ask you to. You are this baby’s father, and it is your decision.”

  “Exactly. They don’t get to know about my son. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, son, I do.”

  Against all the internal voices screaming at me to not call them, I fucking did anyway. After several attempts on the internet, I did find their number. I was thankful for the machine and left the simplest message I could.

  “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harper, this is Devan Knight. Not sure if you remember me, but I lived next door to you and was best friends with Carrie. I’m sorry this has to be left on your machine, but she died a few days ago, and her funeral is tomorrow. My number is 678-555-0220.”

  When they did call back, my mother answered my phone and forwarded the info to them. I still didn’t know if they would show up, and I moved forward with the funeral arrangements. Our circle was small. We preferred it that way. I took care of everything and ordered more flowers than we needed, but I wanted to make it beautiful.

  My son was nestled close to my chest in one of those baby slings that Carrie had wanted to use. It was like a small hammock. After the service was over, we slowly walked back to our waiting car, and that’s when I saw them. Fucking A! They couldn’t even come close to the casket, instead choosing to watch from the parking lot like the soulless human beings they were. It was a mistake to ever call them.

  Thank God, my parents were not like that, totally opposite of Carrie’s parents. My mom and dad were completely accepting of their only son being gay and were over the moon about being grandparents. I handed off my son to my parents, and they drove on ahead without me so that I could talk to the Harpers.

  “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know if you would,” I said to her parents once they walked over.

  “She was our daughter. How could we not be here?” cried her mother.

  “Wow, that’s nice of you, considering you just missed the last seven years of her life.”

  “And we are sorry for that, but we’re here now and want to pay our respects,” her mother said, while her father remained silent. My jaw tightened, and I bit back what I truly wanted to say.

  “Don’t let me stop you. She’s right over there.” I turned and pointed to the empty hole in the ground behind me. I knew if I said anything more, I would have really lost my fucking mind, so I walked away and left them to grieve. I had prepared myself to answer any questions they may have had surrounding Carrie’s death, but when they did talk to me, they never even asked.

  Later that night after putting Paxton down, I had a long talk with my parents. When I agreed to father a child with Carrie, I never believed it would just be me raising this baby. But after seeing her parents again, a fear I never felt before took over my entire body, and I knew I couldn’t continue to live here in Atlanta.

  “They don’t know about Paxton? Do they, son?”

  “No, they don’t. And I never want them to ever find out. I’m leaving Atlanta and taking Paxton with me. I can’t risk the Harpers ever knowing he exists.”

  “So you’re running?”

  “More like making a choice that is best for my son. Mom, they are just as cold now as they ever were. Losing Carrie has not made them suddenly see the light. They hated that their only daughter was gay and in love with another woman. Do you think they want her gay best friend as their grandchild’s father? I can’t risk them ever knowing him. He’s too pure, and they are just toxic. I promised Carrie that I would always protect our son, so this is me honoring my word.”

  “Okay, just give us a few days to settle our affairs. We will be right behind you,” my father said over my mom’s shoulders.

  “Dad, I can’t expect you to just uproot your life and follow me. You don’t even know where I’m going yet.”

  “We don’t care. You are our son, and you need us more than ever. How could you expect us to just let you leave when we are so much in love with Paxton? I promise you,
son, everything is going to be okay. Please allow us to be here for you and for our grandbaby.”

  “Okay, thank you. You two are the best. I love you so much.”

  “We love you more. Now, where are we moving to?”

  I smiled already knowing what I would say. It was the one place that Carrie dreamed of living with Paisley when they were planning their future. I can start over, I know I can. This is the right thing to do, I know it is.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Boise. We are going to move to Boise, Idaho.”

  “97, 98, 99, and 100. Fuck!” I shouted out as I did my last pull-up. My arms were burning, but it was what I needed after my restless night. I hated when I couldn’t shut my brain down and go to sleep for the few hours I required. This upcoming case I had just taken on was already driving me crazy.

  Whenever kids were involved, my heart would get all twisted up and I just had this need to hit first and ask questions later. This one may be different, though. It was a possible custody case involving the bio dad and the maternal grandparents. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take on another case with a kid, but they seemed sincere enough on the phone. Since I already knew I didn’t have to look for a dead kid, I was interested enough to meet with them. My last three cases all ended badly with a forever tragedy linked to it. I saw enough bloodshed and innocent lives lost in the war. I didn’t need to see anymore now that I was home.

  I spent seventeen years of my life in the Navy, the last eight of them as a Navy SEAL. I left that life behind, but everything I learned I took with me on every job I did. When I got out, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but then a buddy of mine was working in the private sector and asked if I wanted to come on board and do something on our own. The first few jobs were easy. Most of them were guys that ran out on their bail, and the bondsman wanted his money back. I didn’t have to hurt anyone once they got a good look at my size. Yeah, I was a total badass. 6’4” in height and just over 250 pounds. My arms were bigger than most women’s legs, but I worked hard to maintain my body and stay in shape, and the hot guys I fucked in my downtime didn’t seem to mind what I concealed underneath.

  I had my prime selection on who I fucked when I went out to the clubs. I only sat in the VIP areas of any club I visited. Let’s just say my taste is very singular, and who I fuck better be ready to take all of me once I unleash it on them. I’d been working so much, I almost forgot how long it has been since I played, but with this new case on my desk: work comes first, and then I’ll come.

  “Good morning, Mr. Mercer. Ready for coffee?” My amazing assistant asked as she walked into my office as I wiped the sweat off my face. Luckily for me, I had no life outside of my work. When I designed what I wanted with the architect, I made sure to include a bedroom with a full master bath. I’d never taken anyone home with me, so a private fuckpad was needed here at the office. It was a place that I would exert my natural dominance and maintain the total control that I desperately craved, and then it would be over. It was just easier to live this way without any emotional attachments. The rest of the space I used for a personal gym. It was perfect for a guy like me that lived his life alone.

  “Good morning, Marcy, and yes, I would love my usual, but let me grab a shower before the clients arrive. Are we ready for this morning’s meeting?” I asked my assistant who was putting the finishing touches on my latte. Yeah, I liked it with extra foam.

  “Yes, the Harpers will be here in twenty minutes, and all of your previous notes about the case are in the top blue folders.”

  “Okay, buzz me when they arrive.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  After I finished showering and dressing, I sipped my latte and perused my notes on what I would be taking on. It seemed pretty simple on paper, but once you get in the thick of it, anything could happen. I took my cases very seriously.

  “Mr. Mercer?”

  “Yes, Marcy.”

  “Your nine o’clock has arrived.”

  “Great, show them in.”

  I rose from my seat and re-buttoned my suit jacket to greet the Harpers. They seemed nice enough, but in my line of work, appearances can be deceiving.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Harper, thanks for coming to Seattle. May I offer you anything to drink before we get started?”

  “No, thank you. Let’s get this over with,” the gruff man said before his wife could offer a hello.

  “Very well, take a seat.” I opened the file on their daughter and quickly perused the notes on my computer before getting started. I was still waiting on information from my contacts, but this was a start. I looked up from behind my screen and then got up to walk around the desk. I always found it easier being directly in front of my clients. This way, I could also gauge their reactions to anything that they might say. Just because they were hiring me didn’t mean they were the innocent party. I always reserved judgment until I finished my investigation. I put my hands across my broad chest and began.

  “Okay, let’s break it down. At the time of your daughter’s death—Carrie Harper—you were not on speaking terms with her.”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” her mom answered while wiping away her tears.

  “You all lived on Staten Island, New York, until you sold your home and relocated to Portland, Oregon. This was after your daughter graduated high school and moved out before beginning college. Correct so far?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mrs. Harper answered while her husband’s face hardened with every word I said.

  “No need to call me ‘sir.’ ‘Mr. Mercer’ will do just fine.” I continued, “After she graduated from her two years in Community College, it says here in my notes that she went on to NYU and received her bachelor’s in teaching. What I have next was a relocation to Atlanta, GA. I was able to pull up an old apartment lease that listed not only your daughter’s name but also two others. Let me check the names. Yes, Paisley Paxton and Devan Knight.”

  Before I could say anything else, Mr. Harper erupted in an emotional outburst.

  “She was her lover!” Mr. Harper shouted out, almost in disgust.

  “Excuse me? Paisley or Devan? I wasn’t aware that your daughter was gay.”

  “Tobias, get a hold of yourself, please.” She implored her husband to calm and sit back down.

  “Mr. Mercer, yes, it’s true. Our daughter was gay and involved with Paisley from high school, and I can only assume their relationship continued in Atlanta,” her mother clarified.

  “Okay, then who is Devan?” I questioned.

  “Devan is a male and another gay person that was involved with our daughter,” he shouted as he paced my office.

  WTF? Another gay person? Are they for real?

  “We didn’t know for years until a few months ago when we saw a picture of him with a boy that resembled our daughter. We never knew. He has kept our flesh and blood from us for all these years, and we want to see him. He’s our grandchild.”

  My obvious disdain for this man was not something I was trying to hide. Yeah, we gay people are over that, and this homophobe is not going to send me or anyone else back into the fucking closet. I was lucky and never had to be, but not everyone can say the same. I was about to tell him exactly where he could take his hate, but he beat me to it with more toxic that spilled from his mouth.

  “Please, Mr. Mercer, do you really need all of this? Our daughter is gone, and our only link to her is our grandson. We need to find him and get him away from Devan Knight before he corrupts him even more than he already has,” he said and then got up to pace my office.

  He looked enraged and didn’t sound any better. His wife was quiet as a mouse as her husband continued to spew his ugly hate.

  What the fuck is he saying? Corrupt him? Oh, because this guy, Devan, happens to be a gay man? And somehow the life and the well-being of his son is somewhat in danger because of who he is? No! I’ve heard enough and am sickened by these people. What the fuck have I gotten myself into here with these fucking homophobes?

&nbs
p; My blood began to boil over with rage. I was usually a pretty good judge of character, and when I first met them, they did not appear to have one bad bone in their body, but now I was completely floored by what they told me.

  My assistant constantly warned me about my temper and urged me to work on my people skills, so talking to these assholes would be my ultimate test. I took a breath before I really lost my shit and said, “Okay, before this goes any further, let me be clear on who I am and the man you have just hired. I am a gay man. I live my life for me, and I really don’t give a fuck about what people think of me, especially narrow-minded bigots like yourselves that spew hate. I am very good at what I do and reserve the right to turn away business. Clearly, you have been misinformed, so I’ll ask you to please leave my office and take your hate with you.”

  That shut him up. Nice job, Jake. Before he could get up and slam his way out, his wife placed her hand on his to keep him in his chair.

  “Mr. Mercer, please forgive my husband. It’s just his regret that is doing the talking and not the honorable man that I have been married to all these years. Yes, our daughter was gay. When she revealed her truth to us, we were not ready to hear it or understand it. She left home after her high school graduation and, yes, angry words were exchanged between us. The next time we saw our daughter was when her coffin was getting lowered into the ground. You cannot imagine how much it pains us to know how we turned our backs on our daughter and never had the chance to make amends with her. She’s dead, Mr. Mercer, and the only connection we have to hold onto is our grandson, whom we’ve never met and is out there somewhere in the world without us. Please help us. We’ve heard you are the best. We will pay anything for you to bring him home to us.”

  After I took the time to calm down and listen to the Harpers, I reconsidered my decision, but not before I had my say. There were so many holes in this story. I needed much more to go on before agreeing to move forward.

  “Mrs. Harper, you’re right. I am the best. If I say that I will find your grandson, then that’s exactly what you can expect from me. But what are you not telling me? It’s pretty clear that you still don’t agree with how your daughter lived her life, but to say that your grandson is being corrupted or may be in danger crosses all kinds of lines for me. Right there is hate, and until I do my investigation, I have no proof that this boy is not safe.”