What's in a Name?

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Micah stared for a long time at his cell phone. Really, he didn't have all that much time left. He had a tattoo appointment in thirty minutes, and he was trying to make it so that he could use that as an excuse to stop talking if he wanted to.

He wasn't going to tell Jeff anything about it just yet. Micah had always been curious about it after all, but he didn't want it to be for the wrong reasons. He had only really been interested in finding where he came from and who his parents were; always the distant question if they would be more accepting than his adoptive parents, or wanting to know why he had been put up for adoption. The question of what if things had been different.

Sasha had written down her phone number—Micah wasn't sure he could really call her mom. Her name was Amber to him. He dialed in her phone number one more time, making himself hit send before he could stall more.

It rang a few times before she answered, when he had been hoping it would go to voicemail. "Hello?"

Micah felt his words stick in his throat, considering he didn't know what to say. How did he even introduce himself? Did she know his name? He had never thought to ask who had named him Micah—her, or his adoptive parents. Maybe she knew him by some other name.

"Hi," Micah finally spoke just so she wouldn't hang up on him. "Um, this is—My name is Micah. I'm your, the one you... your first son?"

There was a long drag of silence on the other end before she let out a breathy, "Oh."

"Maybe I should have called sooner," Micah fumbled quickly. "Since I think you know—Sasha is here."

"Yes, Abram says he's there to bring him back, but he won't tell me much about what is going on," Amber said, sounding resigned. "But I know it's for the better."

Micah folded the paper with her number into the smallest piece of paper he could make. "There are custody issues going on."

He could hear her sniffle over the phone, and he wondered what she looked like. He had only seen her briefly a couple of times and he had tried not to get too invested in seeing her. "With you? Are you seeking custody?"

"I am," Micah admitted, not sure how she would react.

"Good," she declared a little more firmly. "He deserves that much. Is he with you now?"

"No. He has to be in foster care while I'm getting custody, but it's all pretty local. Sheriff Rolland helped place him with Mrs. Vander, and—"

"Rolland is still Sheriff?" she asked.

Micah stalled in confusion, before remembering she had grown up in the area. "Oh, no, not that one. His son, Jeff. He's closer to my age. A lot nicer than his old man."

"Oh, yes, good." She sounded flustered. "Do you, do you need something from me?"

She didn't sound accusatory about it—more like she was offering. Micah thought of all of the things he could ask for, but he had only called for one, really. "My father," Micah admitted quietly. "You listed him as unknown."

He could hear her swear under her breath. "Yes, I had to. When my parents found out I was pregnant, they were adamant that they would get the boy arrested for it. Sheriff Rolland—the older one—was on board to do it, especially once they saw that the baby wasn't white. He was ready to go to the tribal police and say one of their boys must have raped me—it wasn't like that. So I said I didn't know who it was," she explained quickly. "But he never... I never told him I got pregnant, I Just told him that my parents found out I was dating a boy from the res and that I wasn't allowed to see him anymore."

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