“His name is Marcus.”
I stood slowly.
“How long have you known him?”
Lucas stared at the floor.
“Dad.”
“How long?”
“Sometimes he comes when you’re at work.”
The man closed his eyes.
Allison began crying harder.
Something inside me detached.
Not rage.
Rage would have been easier.
Instead, everything became very clear.
The rain against the windows.
The sound of the HVAC unit.
The crooked picture frame beside our bed.
The black duffel bag near the closet.
I pointed toward it.
“Is that yours?”
The man nodded.
“Yes.”
“Pick it up.”
Allison stepped toward me.
“Ryan, wait.”
“No.”
I pointed again.
“He gets his bag, he gets his shoes, and he leaves my house.”
The man looked at Lucas.
I saw it.
Not a casual glance.
Something deeper.
Pain.
My stomach tightened.
“Don’t look at him.”
The man looked back at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don't care.”
“You should know—”
“Whatever you’re about to tell me can happen outside.”
Allison stepped between us.
“He can’t leave yet.”
I stared.
“Excuse me?”
“We need to explain.”
“Then explain.”
She looked toward Lucas.
“Not here.”
I laughed quietly.
“You invited a strange man into my bedroom while our son was home and now you’re worried about where we talk?”
Lucas started crying.
That stopped me.
Immediately.
I crouched again.
“Hey.”
He wiped his eyes.
“Are you leaving?”
The question hit me harder than seeing the man upstairs.
“No.”
“You left for work.”
“I came back.”
He hugged the cap harder.
“Mom said if you found out, you might not come back again.”
I turned toward Allison.
“What did you tell him?”
She shook her head.
“That’s not what I said.”
Lucas looked at her.
“You said Dad might be really mad and things could change.”
Allison closed her eyes.
I felt something inside me harden.
Not because she had lied to me.
Because she had made a nine-year-old responsible for protecting those lies.
I knelt beside Lucas.
“Buddy, listen to me.”
He looked at me.
“You never have to keep grown-up secrets for me or Mom.”
He sniffed.
“Okay.”
“And you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Okay.”
“I’m your dad.”
He stared.
Something about the way he looked at me made my skin prickle.
Then he asked:
“Even if Marcus is my other dad?”
Nobody moved.
I heard Allison inhale.
The man looked down.
My mouth went dry.
“What did you say?”
Lucas’s lips trembled.
“Mom said he’s my real dad but you’re my dad-dad.”
The hallway tilted.
I put one hand against the wall.
My son reached toward me.
“Dad?”
I looked at Allison.
“What the hell does that mean?”
She whispered:
“Ryan.”
“What does that mean?”
Marcus finally spoke.
“It means I’m his biological father.”
The sentence split my life in half.
CHAPTER 2: THE BAG
I sent Lucas downstairs.
Not alone.
I called my older sister, Beth, who lived twelve minutes away.
She heard my voice and asked only one question.