When my ex swung our daughter’s backpack over his shoulder, something small tumbled out. I totally freaked out when I saw it — my daughter shouldn’t have had that! They were already driving away, so I did the only thing a mother could do: I followed them.
Zoey picked at her oatmeal like it might bite back. Her eyes looked glassy, and she was unusually pale and quiet. She used to look forward to her ‘Father-Daughter’ weekends with Jason.
Ever since the divorce, it had become their special time. But she’d started acting strangely recently, and I couldn’t help but feel that something had happened during one of their weekend camping trips. She didn’t answer.
“Zoey?” I kept my voice gentle. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled.
“It doesn’t seem fine,” I pressed. “Did… did something happen during one of your trips with your dad?”
The second I asked it, her whole body went rigid. She pushed back from the table and ran from the kitchen.
Her door slammed upstairs a few minutes later. ***
Jason arrived early with a big smile on his face. At least he was looking forward to that weekend.
“Where’s my girl?” he asked, stepping inside. “Upstairs. Jason, there’s something off with her.
She’s been acting strangely, and she doesn’t look well. Did something happen on one of your camping trips?”
“It seems like more than that.”
He waved his hand like he was dismissing a fly. “Don’t worry.
I’ll talk to her.”
Something in his tone made my chest tighten. Jason didn’t usually brush off things I brought up about Zoey. “Jason—” I started, but he was already turning toward the stairs.
“Zoey! Come on, bud! We’re going to miss the good trail!” He called up toward her room.
“Let’s go!”
Jason scooped up her backpack, which Zoey had placed near the door last night. He swung it up onto his shoulder so fast that something flew out of the side pocket. “See you on Sunday, Rachel,” he called cheerfully as he hurried after Zoey.
“Wait,” I called, crouching down to retrieve the fallen object from under the armchair. But Jason’s footsteps continued moving away, across the porch, and down the steps. My fingers found a slender, hard object.
I slid it out from under the armchair. The sound of Jason’s truck starting snapped me out of my shock. I ran to the front door and leaped down the steps.
I waved my arms and yelled, but Jason was already driving away. There was nothing else for it. I dashed back inside, grabbed my keys and my coat, and got in my car.
I needed to know why Zoey had a positive pregnancy test in her backpack, and I was going to get answers, no matter what. Fifteen minutes later, I was a few cars behind Jason on the highway, wondering where on earth he was going. I kept waiting for him to turn off.
Instead, he headed back into the city. I followed him into a quiet suburban neighborhood. When he parked outside a modest craftsman house, I parked a few yards back.
Jason opened Zoey’s door, and she stepped out with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to an execution. Jason said something and placed his hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the house. But Jason unlocked the front door and guided her inside.
None of this made sense. Who lived here? Why had Jason lied?
Why did Zoey look like she was being dragged somewhere against her will? And how did that pregnancy test fit into all of this? I couldn’t sit there and try to make sense of it by myself.
I got out of my car and jogged across the street. “Rachel? What the hell—”
“This,” I said, holding up the pregnancy test.
“It fell out of Zoey’s backpack when you lifted it. A positive test.”
Jason’s jaw dropped, and the blood drained from his face. He looked at Zoey, who glanced between us like a cornered animal.
I moved toward Zoey, gentler now, and sat her down on the couch. Her lips trembled, and she was losing the battle to keep her tears in, but she didn’t speak. “Zoey—”
“It’s mine.”
The voice came from behind me.
I turned around so fast that I almost fell. A woman stepped into the living room from what looked like the kitchen. She was barefoot, wearing yoga pants and an oversized shirt.
Jason cleared his throat. “This is Sara. My, um.
My girlfriend. I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s, um.
It’s still kind of new. Still figuring things out.”
I felt the anger start in my stomach and work its way up. “But you’ve been bringing Zoey here?
You didn’t think to mention that she’d be spending time with your girlfriend?”
“I wanted to wait until I knew it was serious,” Jason said. Jason’s attention snapped back to Sara. “I didn’t know… You’re really pregnant?”
Sara smiled, stepping closer to him.
“Really pregnant. Isn’t it great? You’re going to be a Dad.”
Jason smiled back, and he pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her.
That’s when Zoey stood up. “You’re already a Dad!” She yelled, her hands balling into fists. “Or do I not matter anymore?”
Jason moved to follow, but Sara’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Let her go.” She gestured to me. “Her mother should handle it. You need to start thinking about us: me and the baby.”
Jason pulled back like she’d burned him.
“She’s my daughter.”
“But you’re soon going to have another child,” Sara said, her voice a little sharper now. “You can’t keep living in your ex-wife’s back pocket. Or your daughter’s.
This is your real life now. You need to be here. With me.”
“Being pregnant doesn’t give you the right to pretend Jason only has one child,” I told Jason’s “not serious, yet pregnant” girlfriend.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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