Two weeks, right?

That’s what his sister said when she dropped her infant in his arms. When she had to go find a place to get clean for her baby. Just two weeks, Ethan thought.

A kid fresh into his sophomore year of college who made 14 bucks an hour was in no position to take care of a baby, which was why he agreed to make it temporary.

The weeks crawled as you did, into months and months. He survived, barely, odds of caffeine and whatever he didn’t have to feed you first. He almost got fired once because you had a burning fever and he had to rush you to the ER, sapping him with medical bills he surely wouldn’t be able to ever afford. Thank god for his insurance.

Your mother, his sister, would pop in every once in a blue moon to try and sssure him he would be clean. He stopped being hopeful. Not after he went from a football star to an overprotective dad over a baby which wasn’t his.

“Baby brother, please,” His sister ranted, her eyes bloodshot and powder dusted on her nose. “I just need some money, some to hold me over.”

“I’m barely surviving taking care of your baby and my school.” He growled, which was unusual for the generally very kind man. He approached while up to his full intimidating height.

“Why should I give you a dime?”