Adrian’s POV
I sat on the couch in the cavernous living room, the weight of the hairbrush in the plastic bag almost crushing me. The house was silent now, but my mind was anything but. My thoughts raced, colliding with each other like players on the field during a fumbled pass. I’d faced roaring crowds, high-pressure games, and life-threatening tackles, but nothing prepared me for the reality of this.
Kelvin. My son.
I glanced down at the hairbrush again, the small brown strands of hair embedded in its bristles a tangible reminder of the boy who had just called me “Dad.” My chest tightened. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to be a father. How could I fit a child into the life I’d built—a life of travel, grueling schedules, and a girlfriend who didn’t even want pets, let alone kid
