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“Go ahead.”

“And if he starts crying⁠—”

“I’m his father.”

The words came out before I really thought about them.

Heather stopped.

So did I.

Her eyes stayed on me.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You are.”

Then she turned and headed upstairs.

I looked down at Collin.

His eyes had opened a little.

“Damn, nigga.”

I bounced him lightly.

“You causing problems already.”

He made some little face.

I smiled.

“You look like me too. That’s the fucked-up part.”

That shit worried me.

Right now, he was little enough that nobody could really tell.

But what happened when he got older?

When that nose came in?

When his face started changing?

When somebody in the family looked at this nigga too long and realized⁠—

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out.

Sam: Don’t forget Zion.

I looked at the time.

5:56.

Then looked upstairs.

Then down at my son.