“I’m your biggest fan,” he says and tries to sit. “Mom, will you push me up?”

“Sure, buddy.” She pushes a button and his bed inclines. “But you know you can’t stay this way for long.”

“Just for a little while,” he says. “Are you coming back next season?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Thank God! They suck without you!”

“Andrew!” Fiona narrows her eyes on her son. “Be nice.”

“It’s okay.” I chuckle and shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. But I will be back in the spring.”

“Good.”

“How old are you?”

“Seven,” he replies. “I have osteosarcoma in my legs.”

Same age as Sam.

“It means I have bone cancer.”

The fact that a seven-year-old even knows the meaning of the word osteosarcoma makes me sick to my stomach. I sit with Andrew for a long time, talking about baseball and TV shows, and when his eyes are so heavy he can hardly keep them open, I say goodbye, then walk out of the room with Fiona.

“Thank you for that,” she whispers. “He’ll talk about that for the rest of his life.”

“Here’s hoping that’s a very long time.”

She nods, but looks sad when she shrugs. “They’re doing everything they can do. Now we wait and hope it works.”

“Will you keep me posted?” I ask without even thinking. “I’ll give you my email address. I’d like to know that he’s okay.”

She tilts her head to the side, and suddenly she’s in my arms, hugging me tight.

“I will gladly let you know how he’s doing.”

“Thank you.”

When I’m out of the hospital, I pull my phone out of my pocket and find that I missed a call from a Louisiana number that I don’t recognize. When I check my voice mail, I hear Charly’s voice.

“This is Charly. Call me back.”

She doesn’t sound particularly happy with me.

I sit in the rental car and dial her number.

“It’s about time.”

“It’s been a busy day. What can I do for you?”

“You can go straight to hell,” she replies, her voice full of ice. “You’re a real asshole, Rhys O’Shaughnessy.”

“Hold up.”

“No, you hold up. You left without even saying goodbye to either Gabby or Sam. That was an asshole move, Rhys. We all trusted you with them. We believed that you’d be good for them. My brothers let you live.”

“Nice of them,” I mutter, but she doesn’t even hear me; she just keeps going. She’s in ȕber protective sister mode, and she’s on a roll.

“But even more than that, Gabby trusted you. Do you know how hard it is for her to do that? Because she doesn’t do that. And she let you in. She and Sam both fell for you, and you just walked right out of their lives without even a backward glance. I sure as fuck hope you’re a better father than you are a fuck buddy, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Wait. What?”

Better father?

“Because she doesn’t deserve what she got last time this time around.”

“Charly, stop taking.”

“Don’t you tell me to stop talking! You’re not the one who’s been consoling her since you walked out. How could you do that?”

“I didn’t leave for good! Jesus, is that what she thinks?”

“Of course that’s what she thinks! What do you mean you didn’t leave for good?”

“I had to come to Chicago for a charity thing, Charly. I forgot about it, and had to leave unexpectedly. I’m coming back down tomorrow.”

“Well, thank God. You need to work on your communication skills, Rhys.”

“So does your sister,” I reply. “And what did you mean about the father thing?”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause, full of her mumbling about being stupid, except I think she’s talking about herself this time. “Look, you need to just get back down here as soon as possible.”

“Charly—”

“Seriously. This isn’t my story to tell, Rhys. But you need to be here.”

“I have a breakfast thing tomorrow that I can’t get out of, but I’ll be on a flight right after it’s done. I’ll be there by early afternoon.”

“Good.”

“Is she okay, Charly?”

“She will be,” she replies, her voice much more calm now. “And she would be without you, too. Trust me on that. But I think she’s better with you.”

I’m so much better with her too.

***

It’s a beautiful day in Louisiana. I’ve driven this road a hundred times now, yet it feels like it’s taking me forever to get there.

I need to see her.

When I finally pull into the long driveway, I see Gabby standing on the porch with Charly and Beau, and a strange man standing just off the porch, his hands on his hips, talking to them.

Beau’s hands are fisted, his face tight. Charly is simply scowling.

And Gabby looks terrified.

What the fuck is this?

I rush out of the car and around the house to the porch, my eyes immediately on Gabby. She raises her face to meet my gaze, and she freezes, her eyes widening. She looks shocked to see me.

And not exactly happy.

“What’s going on?” I ask as I climb the stairs and stand next to Gabby.

“That’s the sperm donor,” Charly says, nudging her chin toward the stranger.