Although being a mom so young hadn’t been my plan, I considered Colin a gift from God. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give him back the gift of a father. Heck, I couldn’t even provide him with his dad’s name.

“Maybe Uncle Easton can visit soon,” I suggested once he let me go. “He promised to come once we were settled in. I think what you need is⁠—”

“My dad. That’s who I need.” His eyes widened, regret cutting across his face. He knew the impact his words would have on me, especially after I’d been through the wringer this afternoon already.

“I’m sorry.” That was the best I could come up with. I wasn’t sure how many ways I could apologize to him for his father not being in his life. He knew the real reason why now that he was older, but I’d had to white lie my way out of it when he was too young to understand.

At the doorbell ringing, my shoulders startled, and he abruptly turned for the hall. A man on a mission. Probably to go off and get into more trouble. Nope, not happening.

“And where do you think you’re going?” I folded my arms, staring him down, giving him the best “mom look” I could summon.

He groaned but relented without putting up a fight. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

I nodded my thanks, and once he left, I sat on his bed and picked up the lone stuffed animal there.

Patches had been with him since he was born. My grandmother, who had long since passed, had stitched the bear herself. He only had one eye now, but the fact my son held on to him, unashamed to have a stuffed animal at his age, gave me a little bit of hope. All wasn’t lost, was it?

Holding the animal tight to my chest, I quickly prayed to God that my son would find his way because I was failing at every turn on my own.

“Where’s my wallet?” At the deep voice and words being snarled from down the hall, I sprang into action, letting go of Patches to rush toward the sounds of commotion.

“Don’t you even think about coming in.” Colin’s back was to me as he shoved at someone on the other side of the door.

Where’s my phone? “I’ll call the cops. Leave!” Panic set in, and a tremor shot through my body and into my words as I shouted to whoever was trying to get into our home.

“Please do. Your son stole my wallet,” the guy hollered back, shifting to the side to look at me. “And nothing better be missing.” There was a definite growl packed into those rage-filled words.

You must have the wrong home.