Sharp Left Turn Page 8

  She clears her throat and looks embarrassed. “Of course. You can have a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  I nod and go over to one of the plush chairs that line the room. I scan the magazine titles on the end table and finally settle on the latest Chef Creations magazine. After skimming a few pages, I snort at the amateur recipes and put the magazine back where I found it.

  The secretary’s head snaps up. “Something amusing, Mr. Ashby?” She lifts a brow.

  At any other time, I might find this sort of flirtation cute, but not right now. Now I only find it annoying. “If it were, it wouldn’t be any of your business. You need to pick up that phone and notify Dr. Scott of my arrival,” I snap, my anger getting the best of me.

  She looks thoroughly abashed before turning her head back to her work. I almost feel sorry, but then I remember the circumstances under which I’m here, and anger quickly takes hold. She’s a secretary for fuck’s sake—it’s her job.

  Finally, she picks up the phone and buzzes the chief of staff, letting her know I’m waiting. “Dr. Scott says she’ll be with you shortly.” I nod and pick up another magazine just to keep myself occupied.

  After several more minutes of sitting here going stir crazy, the door to Dr. Scott’s office opens. Much to my surprise, it’s a man who steps out. He’s dressed in slacks and a button up, and when he walks past, there’s a badge secured to his hip. Some type of officer.

  The burn intensifies.

  No way does he have anything to do with why I’m here, I reason to myself. It’s just a coincidence. I’m early, and I just happen to run across her earlier meeting. It could be hospital security or anything. No reason to let my mind go places that aren’t warranted.

  When Dr. Scott’s door opens again, a blonde woman who’s probably in her late thirties or early forties stands in the doorway. Her eyes widen imperceptibly. “Mr. Ashby?” She walks my way with her hand extended. I rise and take hers. “I’m Katherine Scott, thank you for coming in person.”

  I snort. “Did I have a choice?”

  She chuckles lightly, but it’s laced with something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. “No, Mr. Ashby, you didn’t have a choice. I would’ve gotten you here one way or another.”

  I withdraw my hand. “You keep saying that, but I can’t imagine any reason you could come up with to have a court order me here.”

  Her face turns somber. “I assure you, Mr. Ashby, after we talk you’ll understand.” She turns and retreats into her office, leaving the door open behind her.

  I take the cue and follow her. “Well, let’s get to it then. I’m tired of all the cloak and dagger bullshit.”

  She sighs. “I understand, Mr. Ashby, as is evidenced by you coming here. Just please, have a seat, and we’ll get down to business. Trust me. This is going to be almost as hard for me as it is for you.”

  “See there it is again.” I point to her. “All of these little remarks you keep making! What in the fuck could you possibly have to say to me that is going to be hard?” I make quotations as I say the word. “I didn’t lose anything in Atlanta when I left, and I damn sure never planned on coming back.” I cross my arms. “Now you have me here, Dr. Scott, I suggest you start talking before I walk right out that fucking door!”

  “Sit,” she demands, pointing to the chair on my left.

  I obey, but only because I want some goddamn answers. I’m so sick of this fucking bullshit. All she seems to do is piss me off more. Wringing her neck is becoming more likely by the second.

  “First, I need to ask about your wife?”

  “What the fuck about her?” If that bitch is the reason for this visit, I might have to hunt her down.

  She’s taken aback at the hostility in my tone. “I mean, where is she?”

  “Gone.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she consoles.

  I bark out a laugh. “Don’t be. She was a bitch who couldn’t love her son. Good riddance.”

  “Oh, divorced then?” she probes further.

  “Look, Dr. Scott, Kennedy left before Blake was even six-months-old. We haven’t seen her since, and she has no part in our lives. Is that why I’m here? Something to do with her?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I just didn’t want to exclude her since this does concern her too, being as she’s Blake’s mom.”

  I roll my eyes at the notion. “She’s no mom and has signed away her rights. As long as this isn’t about her, then it has nothing to do with her.”

  She nods. “She will need to be contacted after you hear what I have to say.”

  “Not a chance, but go ahead.” I chuckle, motioning for her to hurry the fuck up. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Mr. Ashby,” she begins. “I don’t know any way to prepare you for what I’m about to say, so just spitting it out seems to be the best option.”

  With a nod, I brace myself for whatever news has brought me to Atlanta.

  “At the very core, I’m going to need you to provide a cheek swab for DNA analysis, and although I know what we’ll find, this will make it official,” she says, looking me directly in the eyes but still not giving me shit.

  “Make what official? And what the fuck do you mean a DNA swab?” I demand. Here she goes again talking in circles without getting to the point.

  “You see, when your son, Blake Allen Ashby, was born, there were also two other boys born within the hour.” I nod, knowing when my son was born but not understanding what that has to do with anything. She takes a deep breath. “Somehow, Blake and another baby were switched before they received their ID bracelets. Blake was given to you and Mrs. Ashby, and Cameron was given to another family. I’ve already gotten the police involved, and I can assure you if it was malice, the culprit will be put away.”

  My mind spins as it repeats her words over and over. The burn that had receded begins to grow and blossom until it’s a raging inferno inside. I go over and over her words. Of course, Blake was given to us, he’s our son. And who’s Cameron? Why did she even mention him?

  “Dr. Scott, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at here. Of course, Blake was given to us,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “Yes, but that was a mistake. The ID bracelets were put on the wrong babies. Your son isn’t really the baby your wife carried. I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

  The inferno explodes.

  I jump from my seat, knocking it over behind me. “Who in the fuck do you think you’re playing with? Did Kennedy hire you to pull this bullshit prank on me? I’ll fucking sue this hospital and have it closing its doors for fucking with me like this!” Spittle is flying out of my mouth as I spew all my pent-up rage at her.

  She stands to match my position, not backing down. “Mr. Ashby, I understand you’re upset, but this is no prank. Blake Ashby is not your biological son.”

  “Fuck you, you lying fucking bitch! You can go straight to hell with this bullshit,” I fling at her before turning and storming through the door. A loud thwack echoes down the hallway as I make my way to the elevator.

  My fists are clenching and unclenching as I descend and stalk toward my rental. It’s all I can do to maintain myself with the rage flowing through me. Tires spin, leaving black marks as I exit the lot and head straight to the first bar I can find. A good, stiff drink is in order.

  Taking a seat, I get the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have a shot of bourbon.”

  He drops it in front of me in no time, and I throw it back and slam down my glass. “Make it a double this time.”

  He lifts a brow but moves to comply.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” a woman says as a stool scrapes against the floor.

  My eyes slide to the voice beside me. It’s a bleach blonde with flirty blue eyes and a sly smile that’s pointed in my direction. I’m not in the fucking mood. I slip my hand over and place it on her thigh, sliding it up to the edge of her short skirt. “Is this what you want? To meet a guy in
a bar and let him take you home and fuck you? No names, no feelings?” I fist the hem of her skirt. “I’m sorry, I’m not that guy. Especially on a day like today. Do yourself a favor and get lost.” I snatch my hand back and toss my drink down my throat.

  The sting of the alcohol only intensifies the burn I’ve felt all day. I fucking knew that goddamn meeting was a bad idea, but I can’t unhear what she said. It’s there, churning and sputtering like the lava in a volcano before an eruption. Leaving my seat behind, I make my way from the bar. Instead of going to my car, I begin walking.

  Walking and thinking.

  My mind spins impossibly fast, jumping from one thought to the next with no discretion. Chaos reigns supreme as I try to focus on one aspect at a time. Blake. He’s my center, the very thing my world revolves around. And now, something has shattered that peaceful place. No matter how hard I try to cling to that lifeline, another image intrudes. One of another little boy, so abstract I can’t even imagine him, but concrete all the same. He’s mine, but so is Blake. I’m the only parent my son’s ever known, and no one can take that away from me. Can they? Have the other parents been notified already? Do they want my son? Well, they can’t fucking have him! What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  Fuck! I grip my hair tightly with both fists. My mind turns over and over, focusing on the boy I have, then wondering about the one I don’t. There’re too many questions I don’t have answers for, and there’s only one person who has them.

  Katherine Scott.

  I blew it with her and lost my cool, but surely, she understands. I imagine it’s not every day she tells a parent their child doesn’t belong to them, and her hospital is at fault.

  I stop walking and spot the hospital in the distance, only a block over. Even in this volatile state, my mind knows what I need to do. I use the rest of the walk to center myself. I can’t go in there half-cocked and in a rage. I need to be reasonable and assertive, gaining the answers I need without giving out too much information about our life.

  As I’m standing on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, I take a few deep breaths and release them slowly. The lava that’s been building starts to recede. I think of my son at home and what he needs me to do. He needs me to be his dad. Any man worthy of that position would make sure all the facts are presented.

  Pulling out my cell, I make a call before going in. I need to feel the connection right now. “What’s up, bro, you find out what that lady wanted?” Coop asks in lieu of a hello.

  “Put Blake on the phone.” I sigh into the line.

  “What’s crawled up your ass?”

  I can’t even begin with this shit right now, not when I don’t have any answers. “Look, man, just get Blake for me. I’ll call you back this evening, and we can talk.”

  “Sounds ominous,” he says, then turns and yells for Blake.

  I snort. “You think?”

  “Come on, man, you can’t leave me hanging if it’s that bad,” he whines, sounding worse than my three-year-old.

  “Coop, I just can’t right now, but I promise you’ll hear from me later, okay?” My voice is pleading with him to understand and give me the space I need right now.

  “Okay, man, here’s the little dude.”

  “Hey, Daddy, when you comin’ home?” Just hearing his voice buries the lava deeper.

  I smile to myself. “I don’t know, dude. I’ll be back as soon as I can though. Are you having fun at Coop and Kari’s?”

  He goes into tales of watching movies and hide and seek, giving me a play by play of every moment since I left him yesterday morning. The more he talks, the more I relax as I picture him doing everything he describes.

  I chuckle when he tells me that he hid for two whole hours while playing hide and seek. “Two hours?”

  “Yeah, Daddy. Uncle Coop hadda come find me cause Blaine and Carson couldn’t,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Wow, that was some hiding place.” I humor him.

  “Yep, it’s a secret. I’ll tell you if you won’t tell nobody.”

  “Daddy loves you, Blake,” I say quietly into the phone. His complete trust turning me into a sappy father.

  “Love you, too. You be home soon?” he asks with hope in his voice.

  “Daddy will see you soon.” I don’t want to make promises while everything’s a jumbled mess, but it’s a certainty. I’ll be reunited with Blake as soon as possible. I need him beside me now more than ever. “I’ll call you again later, okay?”

  “Okay, I goin’ back to play. Bye, Daddy.”

  “Bye, dude,” I say into a silent receiver. He’s already ended the call.

  With the phone put away, my attention focuses back on the hospital. It’s now or never. I start walking to the entrance, only this time, I’m going in with my eyes wide open.

  I’m a man on a mission, a mission for answers.

  I casually stroll through the halls and even take the stairs. I do everything I can to make progress while still putting off the inevitable. I need the extra minutes to get a grip and maintain it.

  When I finally arrive on the correct floor, I don’t even bother with the secretary. Dr. Scott will see me now. I march straight to her door. “Sir, sir, you can’t–”

  Her words trail off as I push open the door and step into the office. Sitting in the chair I’d previously occupied is a slender woman with a splash of purple in her hair. Though I can’t see her face very well, the intensity of their conversation reverberates across the room.

  Ms. Scott’s snaps her head in my direction. “Mr. Ashby, what are you doing here?”

  At my name, the woman jumps up and faces me. Her hand covers her mouth as a gasp escapes. “Cameron,” she says in a breathy mumble.

  My gaze snaps to hers as tears gather in her eyes. Eyes so blue they’re almost electric—the same exact shade as Blake’s. I’m caught in a sea of confusion.

  Until those very same eyes roll upward as her body goes limp.

  I lunge forward, catching her just before her head hits the floor.

  8 BLASTING ZONE AHEAD

  Easy

  I feel as though I’m somewhere between darkness and light, but I can’t get out. I can’t remember where I am or even why I’m this way. I just know that my body won’t fully comply with my mind’s wishes.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with her?” A strange male voice breaks through the haze.

  “She fainted,” Dr. Scott answers him.

  Katherine Scott. I search the recesses of my mind, and when the memory hits me, a deep, heart-wrenching sadness follows. She’s been great to me and very supportive, but I can’t be sure if it’s genuine or just her need to protect the hospital.

  “Maybe you need to get her a doctor then,” the strange voice snaps, his tone intentionally rude.

  Katherine huffs. “I am a doctor. She’s just fainted. She’ll come around in a few minutes.”

  “Why the fuck would she faint,” the man asks, his impatience with the whole situation obvious.

  “Don’t be obtuse,” Katherine replies. “Isn’t it obvious who she is?”

  She stresses the who, and my mind begins to wonder how this strange man would know me. I dig deeper into my memories, trying to come up with who this man is and why I’m here with him and Katherine. I remember yesterday, catching up with Investigator Masters on the case. Is this him? I strain to remember his voice.

  The man speaks again before I can delve much deeper. This time there’s resignation in his tone. “She’s Blake’s biological mother.”

  Blake? I don’t remember a Blake. Am I missing part of my memory? But then the rest of the sentence floats through my mind. Biological mother. With those words, the darkness ebbs completely, and I’m brought into the light with stunning clarity.

  This man is my baby’s biological father.

  I startle and open my eyes, sucking in a huge gasp of air as the reality hits me. I was in Katherine’s office so that she could tell me the
outcome of their conversation, only there was no outcome. Mr. Ashby had stormed out refusing to believe her. Right before he burst through the door, Katherine had just informed me that the mother is no longer in the picture. She walked away from him and their son, giving up all rights.

  My eyes begin to focus on my surroundings. The first thing they land on are the deep green irises that peer down at me. Tears immediately pool in my own. I’m face-to-face with the man who fathered my son. There’s no denying it even if I tried. Cameron is his spitting image.

  Is that confusion?

  Does his son look like me?

  Is that what he’s seeing?

  I can’t look away, and it seems he can’t either. We’re locked in a stare-down. A stare-down of grief and consolation. We’re the only two people to know this pain. No one else can imagine the feelings that course through our blood at the mere thought of what we’re facing. No one else can understand the torment we felt upon hearing the news.

  Only the two of us.

  “Miss Wilder, are you okay?” Katherine asks from out of view.

  My eyes snap to hers as she leans down in my periphery. Upon further inspection, I realize I’m laid on the floor with my upper half resting in Mr. Ashby’s arms, my head on his thigh. I immediately start to rise.

  She reaches and pushes me back gently, forcing me to relax once more. “No, take a minute to get your bearings. I’m sure Mr. Ashby doesn’t mind.” She cuts her eyes to him.

  He shakes his head to clear it and focuses on Katherine. “No. No, I don’t mind.” He glances back to me and looks away again almost immediately. “Take all the time you need.”

  I take a few steadying breaths before I sit up and slide away from his arms. The room spins slightly, so I brace my hands on the floor. He grabs for me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I give him a simple nod and allow my eyes to wander around the room. Anything to keep from looking at him, my son years down the road. His son years down the road.