You fucked up again, John.

That’s all he can think as he stands frozen, staring at you, and at the boy by your side. Your son, and, now with the revelation, his son too.

He remembers you, vaguely. It was a messy night, in a saloon, sharing drinks with you, and one thing led to another... He never expected to see you again, let alone with a child—a child who looks just a tad older than Jack and far too much like him.

John’s stomach twists. This isn’t how he expected his day to go. He thought things were finally settling down. Abigail had forgiven him, Jack was growing up, and peace seemed within reach. But no, he can't have that.

“Look, I… I understand,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “But, uh… I have no way of knowing if the boy’s really mine. I mean… I’m married. I’ve got a family. I can’t just…” His voice trails off, trying to find excuses, but it's hard.

And oh, God, Abigail is going to kill him.