Page 52 of Wolf

I rock back on my heels, stunned by the force of her shout. The feeling that comes first is anger, that she yelled, that she’s blaming me. They aren’t even close to the same thing. If she had told me the truth, then we could have worked it out, or at least had a chance of working it out.

Then, I catch myself, because it feels like stumbling. Anger. That’s what my automatic response used to be. Shit, maybe I didn’t pay all that much attention in the mandatory therapy sessions in prison. I only retained a little, which is that anger is defensive. Anger is a shield. It’s something to hide behind, to feel in control.

It has its place. There’s shit to be mad about in this awful world, for sure. But right now? It’s not the time. I have to feel what’s beneath the anger and confront it.

And when I do that, I feel myself calming a little, bit by bit.

She’s right. That’s what made me angry, the shame at the fact that she’s right, that this is our mutual fault, that we are both to blame and can’t shirk the responsibility of this. We’ve both done just about the worst job possible of being responsible, communicative adults.

“Alright,” I say, slowly, testing it out, checking that I won’t backslide into my old default. “Alright, you’re right. We’ve messed up, but we can do better. Can’t we? Starting now.” I think back to that phone call, the one that derailed my life. She wasn’t talking to Malcolm, but whoever it was, was giving her bad news. “Something got you upset just before I turned up. Is it that asshole? What happened?”

Julia swipes at her face and heaves in a sniffling breath. “My lawyer called. She says Malcolm’s going to try to take Artie away from me. I think maybe it’s too late to do better.”

“No, I don’t think it’s ever too late.” I think of all the sorry, fucked-up assholes Steel has dragged out of the gutter and rehabilitated over the years, including me.

Julia looks at me, waiting for me to do something, to fix it.

Maybe I’m not smart, but I do know one thing we need to do now.

“I want a paternity test,” I say, and the fragile hope on her face dies.

Chapter 22

Julia

My bedroom door opens without so much as a knock or a request to enter. I lie on my side facing the curtain-covered window, my knees drawn up close to my chest with my arms wrapped around them. Sunlight seeps around the edges of the curtain. I have the covers pulled all the way up over my head, leaving only a small gap for my face to poke out.

Soft footsteps approach the bed. The mattress sinks slightly as someone light sits down on the edge. “Do you plan on getting out of bed at some point today?”

I groan and pull the covers in front of my face.

“Your son misses you,” Mom says. “He thinks you’re sick. It’s a scary thing for a boy, to have his only parent be acting this way.”

“I’m not his only parent,” I mutter.

“What did you say?”

“I’m not his only parent!” I throw the covers off and sit up, whipping my head around to face her. “And Wolf knows it. He found out.”

Mom looks at me with her head tilted, her curly blonde hair draped against her cheek and neck. The pops of color she got at the salon before, which I now know was Artie’s idea, are a little faded but somehow even prettier with their edge taken off.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Mom asks.

“He doesn’t seem to think so,” I mumble. I rub my hands over my face. “He asked for a paternity test, like he couldn’t trust me. Like he can’t look at Artie and just see they share blood.”

“Julia…” Mom shakes her head and leans to me, wrapping her hand around the back of my neck. She tugs me to her until our foreheads touch. She stares into my eyes, and her own are bright and serious. I realize how things have changed between us. She’s come so far and I’m the one fading. Like we’ve swapped places.

“There’s no time for you to mope around,” Mom says. “You can’t wallow because your feelings are hurt. Open up your eyes, sweetheart, and see that Wolf doesn’t want a paternity test because he doubts you.”

I frown and shake my head a little, not understanding.

Mom keeps looking right at me, steady and earnest, like a brand-new woman. Or maybe like a version of herself I never knew, the woman she was before my father turned her into a shell. “Wolf wants that paternity test because he’s scared, because a man who gets locked up for something he didn’t do has stopped believing the world will give him anything good. He needs proof. The test will be proof. Give him that. Then give him a chance, and he’ll give you a chance.”

My mouth slowly opens as she speaks. “You… You know about all of that? I mean, that he was framed and all of that?”

“I know I haven’t been much more than a jellyfish in years,” Mom admits, her gaze at last flickering. “Drifting. Barely even alive. Ever since you called me and said you needed to come back home, I’ve been trying to grow a brain and a will. I’ve been listening and doing some asking around of my own. Yes, I know. I believe it’s true, that he was framed, and by your father. Maybe someday when all of this is over, I’ll have the time to start processing that. For now, I think we’ve all just got to move ahead and do what needs doing. For you, that means accepting the test. Anyway, won’t that help your case against Malcolm?”

“Oh…” I blink as she points it out to me. Having two adults in Artie’s life is better than just one. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”