Chance is such a fickle thing. Irony a mere cruel tease of the heartless. Most would say I was just a guy down on his luck, but they weren’t privy to the secrets hiding in my soul. A grown man shouldn’t be hanging out alone at a playground. I could hear the tongue-waggers in my ear as though one had voiced his thoughts aloud to me. Was that a cop in the distance? I shuddered. Pulled my coat tighter around me. Fixed my eyes back on the little boy swinging to the sky.

Chance. I had found him by pure chance. He was right there, within feet of me. Should I so choose, I could walk right up to him and announce my presence, but to what end? Not a good one, that’s for sure. Did I mention the cruelty of irony? That little boy shrieking from the thrill in his gut? Yeah. He’s mine. Haven’t seen him since he was two. Look at him now—eight years old. Looks like his mother, poor kid. Don’t get me wrong, the woman’s drop-dead gorgeous. Total knock-out. Too bad beauty’s only skin deep on that one.

I scanned the playground and spotted the woman, seated as though she was queen over all. Would she even remember my name? Doubtful. I was nothing but an ATM to her back in the day. I spotted the rock on her finger and snorted into the air. What poor bloke did she have fooled this time? Doesn’t matter. He’ll see, eventually. My eyes drifted back to my boy. Where was his coat? At least a jacket. Geeze. What kind of a mother did he have, anyway?

The kid’s eyes found mine and my heart stopped in my chest. Did he know who I was? Ha. Not a chance. His wanna-be-mama wouldn’t care to let on about his disgraceful daddy. Maybe I could just say hi…that couldn’t hurt anything, right? I scanned the playground and spotted her eyes sweeping in my direction—this woman whom I had loved in my ignorance. Quickly, I ducked behind a tree, praying to God its breadth kept me hidden. If she saw me here it would all be over. The law would be on my tail in an instant, and all for some bogus protection ordered she’d filed that labeled me as a threat to her existence. Can you believe the nerve of her? Smearing my name like that, all because she got tired of being a family? The courts will believe anything these days.

My gaze was drawn to my left as a football whizzed by me. I sucked in my breath when my kid raced for my hiding spot, laughing to one of his friends chasing behind him. “Sawyer,” I coughed, petrified by my own stupidity. He bent and grabbed the ball, his blond hair falling over his eyes as he searched for the voice calling his name. “Sawyer, it’s Dad.” I kept my body out of sight of his mother as we locked eyes. “It’s me, buddy. I’ve missed you so much.”

Sawyer tilted his head as he looked me over, his eyes drifting to his mother.

“No, no,” I reached out a hand. “No need to call Mom. I’m leaving. Just know that you have a dad, kid. And he loves you very much.”

“My dad’s dead,” he stated, clutching the ball to his chest.

I swiped a hand down my face. “Look at me, boy. See these eyes? They’re just like yours.” I looked him over, growing excited when I spotted another resemblance. “See this birthmark? Looks just like a—“

“Clover,” he whispered in awe as he stared down at his forearm, comparing it to mine.

My face exploded in a smile. “It’s me, son. Whatever Mom told you—it’s not true.”

His face fell. “My mom died at the same time as my dad.”

I shook my head. What was this nonsense she’d fed him? I peeked around the tree, and my knees grew weak. In the place of his mother, a middle-aged woman sat with her knitting as though she’d been there for hours. When a scan of the park didn’t reveal her to me, I turned back to my boy. In his stead, a little girl of four or five stared up at me, hand outstretched.

“Mister, my ball?”

My body trembled as I looked down at the ball in my hands. My son was nowhere to be found.