Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
He hooks a thumb underneath his rubber band bracelets, nervously fidgeting with them. “I got a call from Philly General.”
I frown. “Why is the hospital calling you?” My veins ice over.
“The doctor said there’s a girl, and she’s…uh…she’s sayin’ that I have a kid. And the details are kinda foggy, you know. Because I think I blacked out.”
My stomach is in literal fucking knots. I can’t move. Could this even be true?
“When’s the last time you’ve had unprotected sex?” I flinch at my voice. Shit, my tone sounds way less like a friend and more like a doctor.
He smears a hand down his face. “I…can’t remember. There were some drinks involved the last couple times.”
“How old is the kid?” Maximoff asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
“The name of the woman?” I wonder.
“I don’t know.” Tears build in Donnelly’s eyes and his Philly lilt comes out stronger. “I told you, man, I fuckin’ blacked out. I dunno shit. All I know is that there’s a girl in a hospital claiming I have a kid.” He shifts his weight. “Farrow, I can barely take care of myself. I’m not ready to be anyone’s dad.”
“Good thing, because you’re not anyone’s parent right now,” I say casually. Calmly. He feeds off my energy and takes a breath. “What you are,” I add, “is a guy who got a phone call. That’s it. And you need to relax because you’re forgetting an important part of this.”
“What?”
“You have 4.6 million followers on Instagram, Donnelly.” I raise my brows. “There are a lot people who would claim you’re the father just for clout or money.”
Donnelly snorts at the word money. “Yeah, sure.”
“Farrow’s right,” Maximoff says. “There’s a good chance this isn’t even legitimate.”
I grab car keys on the desk. “And there’s only one way to find out.”
The Emergency Department isn’t too packed tonight, and the doctor who called Donnelly recognizes me from when I worked at Philly General. Plus, he knows my father.
It’s an easier process than it could’ve been, and only a few minutes pass before we’re ushered into an empty room. When a nurse arrives, she leads Donnelly away for blood work.
They need to run a paternity test, so it’s just a waiting game now.
I lounge on the patient bed and flip through a Healthy Living magazine. Maximoff hasn’t taken a seat since we arrived. Arms crossed, back straight, he stands near the wall where the otoscope is hung. I’m going to be really honest here: he’s currently staring at me like I’ve rocketed to Mars alone, without him.
“Speak your mind, wolf scout.” I lick my finger and turn another page.
“I know you’re programmed to a Calm-Under-Pressure default setting in every type of Mortal Kombat scenario, but it feels like we’re reaching the final boss. The hardest level. We should be getting more information about the mom and this baby. And we know nothing right now.”
I glance up from the magazine. “See, there’s this thing called HIPAA. We’re just two random guys, and the hospital staff treats minors like precious gold. You’re not getting any information. Don’t go banging at that cage because it’s going to leave you more frustrated than you are now.”
Maximoff lets out a giant sigh. “There has to be something we can do.” He hates waiting. It’s like being stuck in an agonizing limbo, unable to solve a crisis. Unable to help.
“We can’t do anything until the results come back.” I pat the spot beside the bed, enough space for him. “Sit and wait with me.”
Maximoff stares at the bed with this faraway, glazed look. Absentmindedly, he whispers, “I can’t sit.”
It’s been a long night. With everything and now this distress call. Maximoff was right when he told his dad that we can handle it.
We can handle a lot of shit together, for a lot of people, but it’ll always be important to check in with each other. Above all else.
I slap the magazine closed and sit more upright. “Something else eating at you?”
He grinds down on his teeth and uncrosses his arms. Then crosses them again. He ends up nodding, but he says, “What are you thinking?”
He wants me to go first again. Whatever’s on his mind must be hammering at him in a bad way.
I bend my knee and lean a forearm on it casually. “Nothing serious.”
“Even better.” Maximoff walks around to the counter. Jars of cotton balls and tongue depressors lining the clean surface. He rests against the cupboard, but somehow, he makes it look like the most rigid stance imaginable. He nods me on to talk.
“Okay,” I say. “So I’m just sitting here thinking, fuck, I’m glad I’m gay.”
Maximoff exhales deeper. “Because you’ve never had to worry about accidentally getting a girl pregnant.”
“Never a worry,” I say into a slow nod and then look him up and down. “You stressed a lot about it.” It’s not a question.