Monica reviewed documents.
My name was on Lucas’s birth certificate.
I had been present from birth.
Held myself out as his father.
Supported him.
Raised him.
No one had challenged paternity for nine years.
“So does a DNA test erase me?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
I breathed for the first time in an hour.
Monica continued.
“Biology matters.”
She looked at both of us.
“So do established parental relationships.”
Allison asked:
“What about Marcus?”
“He can seek recognition.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happens then?”
“That depends on what everyone does next.”
I hated answers like that.
But real law rarely offered the clean certainty television did.
Monica pointed toward us.
“Your first priority should not be winning a parentage argument.”
“What should it be?”
“Keeping Lucas out of one.”
That line stayed with me.
She recommended a child therapist.
Gradual contact.
No adult arguments in front of Lucas.
No promises about custody outcomes.
No asking him which father he preferred.
No making him choose language before he was ready.
Allison nodded.
I did too.
For the first time since the discovery, somebody had given us rules that were about Lucas instead of our guilt.
CHAPTER 6: MARCUS
Marcus did not disappear.
I wanted him to.
At first.
But wanting him gone and believing that was best for Lucas were not the same thing.
That distinction became one of the hardest parts.
The therapist, Dr. Elaine Foster, met Lucas twice before she met the adults together.
Then she called Allison, Marcus, and me into the office.
Three chairs.
One side table.
A box of tissues nobody wanted to acknowledge.
Marcus sat farthest from me.
Dr. Foster said:
“Lucas is afraid of losing Ryan.”
Marcus nodded.
I did not move.
“He’s also curious about Marcus.”
I hated how normal her voice made it sound.
“He thinks being curious will hurt Ryan.”
That landed.
I looked toward Marcus.
He looked back.
Dr. Foster continued.
“He also believes loving Ryan may hurt Marcus.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“You see the problem?”
We did.
Lucas had been turned into a loyalty manager.
Again.
Different adults.
Same burden.
Dr. Foster looked at us.
“He needs permission to love everyone without managing anyone.”
Marcus spoke first.
“I can do that.”
I looked at him.
He met my eyes.
“I’m not asking him to call me Dad.”
That helped.
Not enough.
But some.
Visits began in public.
Park.
Children’s museum.
Coffee shop with a board-game area.
I attended some.
Watching them together hurt.
Marcus had the same way of rubbing his lower lip while thinking that Lucas did.
They both tilted their heads when reading.
Both hated mustard.
Both laughed harder at bad puns than good jokes.
Biology revealed itself in tiny humiliations.
But something else happened too.
Lucas constantly checked me.
If he laughed with Marcus, he looked at me afterward.
If Marcus helped him tie a fishing lure, Lucas found me before leaving.
After one visit, he climbed into my truck.
“Was that okay?”
“What?”
“Having fun.”
I almost broke.
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He studied my face.
Children are better lie detectors than adults give them credit for.
So I told the truth.
“It’s a little hard for me.”
His face dropped.
“Not because you did anything.”
I continued quickly.
“It’s hard because everything changed fast.”