Unexpected Reality by Kaylee Ryan Page B

ear.
    “I’m going to go call the guys and your parents.” Tyler steps out of the room.
    “How’s he doing?” the nurse asks.
    “Good, he finished the entire thing. You need to write that down or something, right?” I ask.
    “I do. You did well, Dad.” She makes a note on the tablet in her hands. “Mr. Beckett, I know this is not the appropriate time for this conversation, but I have some paperwork here for you. The little guy is being released tomorrow, and we still need a name.”
    What? He’s being released? “He can’t. I thought you said he could stay until we get the results. Who do I have to talk to? I refuse to let my son go into the system.”
    “Mr. Beckett, the results are in. You are a 99.99% match. He’s your son.”
    My heart stills in my chest.
    “Breathe, Ridge.” Reagan giggles next to me.
    I take in a breath. He’s mine. I knew he was—in my heart, in my gut. But now I have confirmation, know he’s coming home with me and not going into the foster care system. Melissa would hate that.
    “I know this is a rough time for you, but we can’t release him until he has a name for the birth certificate.”
    “Beckett,” I say automatically.
    Reagan giggles again. “She’s got that part, goof. He needs a first name, a middle name. I know you said Melissa didn’t have a name in mind. Do you?” she asks gently.
    Do I? No, I don’t. I’ve been too busy willing his momma to wake up. I look up and see his bed, the ‘Baby Knox’ displayed with his birth stats staring back at me.
    Knox Beckett. He would always have a piece of his momma—her last name and mine.
    “Knox Beckett,” I say out loud.
    “Oh, Ridge, I love it,” Reagan says softly. “What about a middle name?”
    I think about that. My middle name is Alexander, as is my dad’s. Seems fitting. I hope I’m half the father to Knox that my father was to me. “Knox Alexander Beckett.”
    “Here is the paperwork you need to complete. Once I have it entered in the system, it will go to the state and they’ll issue his birth certificate. You’ll get it in the mail in a few weeks.”
    I hand Knox off to Reagan and complete the stack of forms, pausing when I get to mother’s information. I swallow the lump in my throat as I write the word ‘deceased.’ Too fucking young and full of hope for the life she wanted to give our son. Needing my insurance info, I pull out my cell phone where I have it saved. When I tap the screen, the picture the nurse took of the three of us glares back at me. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Her smile . . . She was so fucking happy holding our son, and now she’s gone. After everything she’s been through.
    “It’s not fair,” I blurt out. “Why her? After the life she lived? Why could she not be happy? Raise our son and have a real family, a part of her? It’s not fucking f-fair.” My voice cracks on the last word.
    Tyler walks in just at that moment.
    “You’re up, Uncle Tyler,” Reagan says, handing Knox to him. She doesn’t say anything else, just drops to her knees in front of me and wraps her arms around me. That breaks me and I sob into her shoulder, the stress of the last three days—today, especially—overwhelming me. I fall apart; I couldn’t stop it even if I tried. I’ve been fighting back these emotions since I pulled off the road and found her car.
    “It’s not fair,” Reagan agrees. “It fucking sucks donkey dick.”
    I laugh at that; I can’t help it.
    “My work here is done,” she says through her own tears.
    “Uh, guys . . . I think little man here has a present for his Aunt Reagan,” Tyler says. He sounds like he’s holding his breath.
    That just causes me to laugh harder. He may not have his mother, but I will make damn sure he knows how much she loved him. How much she wanted to be a part of his life. He won’t have both parents, but he will have me, his aunt, my four best friends—uncles by default—and my parents.’
    He will be loved