Chapter 5
Andre was arrested in the gym parking lot.
Not because he threatened me.
He was careful with his words.
But when police arrived, they found an illegal handgun in his car and evidence tying him to the unauthorized transfer.
Darren gave a statement.
For once, he didn't run.
Jordan sat with Tasha inside the gym office while I spoke with officers.
When I returned, Darren was standing near the hallway.
Alone.
He looked destroyed.
"Marcus."
I almost walked past.
He stopped me.
"Can we talk?"
I looked toward the office.
"Five minutes."
We stepped outside.
His shoulders dropped.
"I messed up."
"Yeah."
"I know you hate me."
"I don't."
He looked surprised.
"That almost feels worse."
"Good."
He laughed once.
Then looked at the ground.
"I didn't know Andre would go near Jordan."
"You brought that debt into his life."
"I know."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You keep saying that like knowing fixes it."
His jaw tightened.
"I came here to see the game."
"After it ended."
"My car really did have trouble."
I stared.
He sighed.
"Fine."
He looked away.
"I was scared Andre would find me here."
"So you almost didn't come."
"Yeah."
"But then you came anyway."
"Yeah."
That mattered a little.
Not much.
But a little.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know."
"That's the problem."
He looked at me.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Stop asking everyone else."
He flinched.
"This is your life."
I pointed toward the gym.
"And that's your son."
Darren rubbed his face.
"I don't know how to fix it."
"Start by not lying."
"Easy for you."
I almost laughed.
"You think this has been easy?"
"You got money."
There it was again.
"Money doesn't make honesty easier."
"It makes everything else easier."
"Sometimes."
I nodded.
"But I never got to walk away from responsibility because another man had money."
He looked ashamed.
I continued.
"Get help for gambling."
He said nothing.
"Pay support properly."
His mouth tightened.
"Show up when you say you will."
"I try."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Stop using that word unless you're actually doing something."
His eyes hardened briefly.
Then softened.
"Jordan called you his dad."
I hadn't expected him to say it.
"Yeah."
"How long has he done that?"
"Never."
Darren looked away.
"That hurt."
"I know."
"You happy?"
"No."
He looked at me.
I meant it.
"I don't want your son loving me to require hating you."
His face changed.
"Then why tell him everything?"
"I didn't."
I stared.
"Your choices did."
He was quiet.
Then:
"Do you want to adopt him?"
The question shocked me.
"What?"
"He called you Dad."
"That's not what adoption means."
"You know what I'm asking."
I did.
And I wasn't touching it.
"Jordan already has a father."
His jaw tightened.
"Yeah."
"So be one."
I walked away.
Inside the office, Jordan sat beside Tasha.
His eyes were red.
When he saw me, he stood.
"Is Andre going to hurt us?"
"No."
I hoped that was true.
"The police have him."
"What about Dad?"
"He isn't arrested."
"Should he be?"
"No."
At least not from what I knew.
Jordan nodded.
Then he looked embarrassed.
"About what I said outside..."
I sat beside him.
"You don't have to explain."
"Yes, I do."
Tasha watched quietly.
Jordan looked at me.
"I know you're not my real dad."
My chest tightened.
"Biological."
"What?"
"You're talking about biological."
He frowned.
"Same thing."
"Not always."
His eyes filled.
I continued.
"Darren is your biological father."
"Then what are you?"
I thought carefully.
"I'm Marcus."
He rolled his eyes.
"That's stupid."
Tasha almost smiled.
I laughed.
"Fair."
Jordan looked down.
"I called you Dad because I was mad at him."
That hurt slightly.
But I appreciated the honesty.
"Okay."
"And because..."
He hesitated.
"Because sometimes I think of you like that."
Tasha started crying.
I ignored her for the moment.
"This isn't a competition."
"I know."
"You don't have to choose."
"What if Dad makes me?"
"He shouldn't."
"But what if he does?"
"Then the adults are failing you."
He stared at me.
"Not you."
"I fail too."
"Not like him."
That wasn't a conversation I wanted to win.
I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Listen."
He looked up.
"You are allowed to love your father."
His face twisted.
"Even if I'm mad?"
"Especially then."
He started crying.
I pulled him into a hug.
For the first time, he didn't hesitate.
He held on.
Tasha covered her mouth.
Later that evening, after Jordan slept, she sat beside me on the couch.
"I've been awful."
I looked over.
"That's dramatic."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She almost smiled.
Then her face fell.
"I created this."
"Not all of it."
"I let Darren avoid responsibility."
"Yes."
"I used our money to make him look better."
"Yes."
"I told you not to parent Jordan whenever I felt guilty."
That one hurt.
"Yes."
She cried.
"I'm sorry."
I didn't answer immediately.
She looked scared.
"Marcus?"
"I hear you."
"That's it?"
"For now."
Her face tightened.
I continued.
"Apologies matter."
"But?"
"Patterns matter more."
She nodded slowly.
"I want to fix it."
"Then we need rules."
"Okay."
"Financial first."
I stood and brought a notebook.
She looked surprised.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
We wrote everything down.
Separate personal accounts.
One joint household account.
No transfers over five hundred dollars without both of us agreeing.
No money to Darren.
Not one dollar.
Child support handled through court.
All passwords changed.
No secrets about debt.
No lending money to relatives without discussion.
Then parenting.
That was harder.
"If I'm expected to help raise Jordan," I said, "I need authority appropriate to that role."
She swallowed.
"What does that mean?"
"House rules."
"Okay."
"Curfew."
"Okay."
"School."
"Okay."
"Respect."
She nodded.
I continued.
"I am not replacing Darren."
"I know."
"And major parenting decisions are yours and Darren's legally."
"Yes."
"But inside our home, I won't be told to shut up because I'm not biological whenever you dislike what I say."
Her eyes filled.
"You're right."
"If you do it again, we have a bigger problem."
"I understand."
Then I said the hardest part.
"We need counseling."
She stared.
"Marriage counseling?"
"Yes."
"Are we that bad?"
I laughed softly.
"Tasha, your ex's gambling cousin just confronted us at a middle-school basketball game."
She almost laughed through tears.
"Fair."
"So yes."
She nodded.
"Okay."
The next morning, Tasha filed formal paperwork to enforce child support.
Darren called within an hour.
He screamed.
Not at Jordan.
At her.
I heard enough from across the room.
"You trying to ruin me?"
Tasha shook but stayed firm.
"I'm trying to stop ruining you by rescuing you."
That line made me look up.
Darren went silent.
"This is for Jordan."
"You know I don't have thirty grand."
"The court decides the plan."
"You got Marcus."
Tasha closed her eyes.
Then said:
"Marcus is not your child-support plan."
I felt something shift.
Finally.
Darren said something I couldn't hear.
Tasha's face tightened.
"No."
Pause.
"No, Darren."
Another pause.
Then:
"If you threaten my marriage again, I hang up."
Her hands shook.
But she didn't back down.
Finally, the call ended.
She sat down.
"That was horrible."
"You did it."
"I feel guilty."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because boundaries feel cruel when you're used to having none."
She looked at me.
"You learn that somewhere?"
"Therapy podcast."
She laughed.
Then her phone buzzed.
Message from Darren.
Tell Jordan I'm going away for a while.
Tasha stared.
"What does that mean?"
She called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Jordan came downstairs.
"What happened?"
She tried to hide the screen.
Then stopped herself.
Progress.
"Your father sent me a message."
Jordan read it.
His face drained.
"Going where?"
"We don't know."
He called Darren himself.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Jordan's breathing changed.
"What if he does something?"
My stomach tightened.
Tasha immediately called police for a welfare check.
We contacted Darren's sister.
His mother.
Friends.
No one knew.
For two hours, Jordan paced.
Then Darren's sister called.
They had found his car.
Empty.
Parked beside the river.
Jordan went completely pale.
Tasha dropped the phone.
I grabbed my keys.
Police were already searching.
As we drove, Jordan sat in the back seat whispering one sentence over and over.
"This is because of me."
I pulled over.
Turned around.
"No."
He stared at me.
"Whatever is happening with your father is not because you told the truth."
"But I called you Dad."
"No."
I reached back and gripped his knee.
"Adults are responsible for what they do with pain."
His eyes filled.
"You are not responsible for him."
Then Tasha's phone rang.
Darren's sister.
Tasha answered.
Her face changed.
"Where?"
Pause.
"Oh, thank God."
She started crying.
Jordan leaned forward.
"What?"
Tasha turned.
"They found him."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
He collapsed against the seat.
Darren had been found at a motel three towns away.
Not at the river.
He had left his car there intentionally.
Not because he planned to die.
Because Andre's associates were still looking for him.
He had run.
Again.
May you like
But this time, running finally cost him the one thing he'd always assumed would wait forever.
Jordan's trust.
