Walk Away h.s punk/au

Chapter Thirteen

My stomach dropped heavily. The tears that began to climb their way up my throat caused me to glance to Harry. Who the hell was Leo? Why the hell did Harry have custodial rights? What the hell had he done before me? My leg jiggled in the front seat. I began playing with a stray string on the skirt of my dress.

“Who’s Leo?” I asked my throat burning. I didn’t know if I should be mad at Harry or whoever got knocked up.

“You have homework?” he asked facing me. I shook my head ‘no’ avoiding eye contact with him. “Well you’ll meet him now.” He started the car and put it in drive.

I stared at his profile wondering whose it was. This was part of my business, I deserved to know. Digging my nails into the firm skin of my knee I turned to face him. “Well...you can’t just say “you’ll meet him now” without at least telling me whose he is.”

“Katherine, you need to hear me out. You’re jumping to conclusions and that’s just going to get in the way and you won’t see things clearly.”

I opened my mouth to retort this but decided against it. I’d allow him a chance to explain before I made any decisions.

“Leo is my son. But not in the way you’re thinking. My sister,”

“Gemma.” I cut in.

“Yeah, you knew her?”

“I thought she was the second becoming of Christ.”

Harry choked on a sound that was somewhere in between a sob and laugh. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted. She got married and had Leo. The guy jumped ship a few days later.”

“Dick.” I grumbled shocked someone would do that to her. I looked up to Gemma. She was the most beautiful, kind, funny girl that went to our school.

“Yeah, same. When they, when it happened,” Harry hadn’t talked about the accident yet and I respected that, “I became the legal guardian of Leo since I was, am, his god-father. He’s my son nephew like thing.”

Guilt washed itself over me, bathing me in jealousy and stupidity. “Great, now I feel like the world’s biggest bitch.”

“Don’t, you didn’t know. Any other woman would’ve left without me saying.”

“Why’s he in foster care?” I asked now feeling better about the subject.

“I wasn’t of age and was still in school. They put him in there for now. Three months and he’s ours.” He said it softly, but it was there. The unmistakable, word ours left his plump lips freely. I stayed silent for a moment thinking of the thought.

What would it be like to raise Leo with Harry? It’d piss off my parents most likely. The thought of me married young to a guy with a son. Aside from that though, what would the problem be? I’d be a uni, but that was minor. Once I’d be out Harry and I would have jobs, it’d be a stable environment. I could just see Harry now outside, shirtless in sweats, kicking a football around with the little boy. The rest of the lads would be playing too and when Leo would fall Harry would run over scooping him up in his arms, bringing him inside. He’d doctor him up, pecking the boy’s little nose. Meanwhile, I would be in a study working on a new piece, emerging to get enough popsicles out for the gang of us. That didn’t seem all that bad, in fact, I sent a rush of something through me. Maybe it was a primitive maternal instinct, I didn’t really know, but I liked it whatever it was.