The door shuts with a loud click and the only sound in the room is the ice shifting in the bags. I pop my neck to the side, finding myself too damned tired for a screaming match. “Whatever it is, can we argue about it later?”
Dad slips into a seat across from me. An hour ago, John sat in that same chair and offered me more fatherly advice than my own supposed father had my entire life. “I told your mother you’re still alive.”
“Thanks.”
“Call her. She’ll want to hear your voice.”
“I will.” I stretch my shoulder and wince. “Mind keeping me on your insurance for a little longer?”
Dad’s face moves up as he smiles and I raise my eyebrows in response. What the hell?
“You’re good at this,” he says. “It was awful watching it, but at the same time, I smacked the guy next to me and told him you’re my son.”
I chuckle, because I got nothing to say. I take it back. I do know what to say. “Did you always know I wasn’t yours?”
The smile slips off his face and I sort of regret my choice of words, yet, I don’t. This conversation needs to be had and there’s never going to be an appropriate time or place.
“Yes. Colleen had been sick for a long time and let’s just say there was a breakdown in communication between me and your mother and I’m aware how babies are made.”
I nod, the truth not making me feel much better. “Why did you stay with her? She cheated.”
“I loved her. Denny loved her first and I stole her away from him and then when things got rough I abandoned her and Colleen. She needed comfort, and when I didn’t give it, she ran to arms that were still open.”
Fuck. I toss the bag I’d been holding to my eye into the trash. “You’re real live and let live about this.”
“I love her, West. She loves me. When you feel like that about someone, you find ways to make it work.”
My heart aches—Haley. Was what I did to her different?
“You say you love her, but you wanted me to break up with Haley. You told me to trust you, that a girl would be my worst downfall. Is that how you see Mom? Do you really love her or has it all been a show this entire time?”
My dad ages ten years with each second that passes. He appears smaller, grayer and weary. “I loved your mother from the first time she poured a beer over my head because she’d heard my type of lines before.”
My eyes widen and my lips twitch up and down. My mother poured a beer over Dad’s head? My father used pickup lines on my mother? Who the f**k are these people and part of me is loving every second. Watching my reaction, Dad’s mouth tilts up. “I think you can understand why your grandparents were less than thrilled with me.”
Dad’s parents are picture-perfect conservative and stuck-up. “Then why did you push me so hard on Haley?”
The happiness vanishes. “Because the road with your mother was difficult. From the moment we met, nothing was easy. Life threw everything it could at us and sometimes we won and other times we failed. But through it all, never doubt that I loved her and never doubt that she loved me. While that’s true, my choice to be with your mother, her choice to be with me—it made life complicated and we suffered because of it. You have to understand, West, that when it comes to your children...you don’t want hard. You don’t want to see them hurt.”
I readjust the ice bag on my shoulder, acting as if it’s slipping, but I really need a break from the intense. There’s a sadness within me and this happiness that has got me all screwed up. My parents love each other and that’s...that’s something to hold on to, but to know they’ve experienced pain, too... It somehow makes them human.
Dad leans forward and rests his combined hands in the gap between his knees. “What I said is true. You may not share my blood, but you are me through and through. Not just the stuff that drives me up a damn wall, but the stuff that makes you, you. Your sense of humor, your tenacity, how you love your family.”
Dad lowers his head and I wipe at my eyes. I’m tired. It’s why I’m emotional, but somewhere deep inside the young kid that followed this man around like he was a god rejoices.
There’s an edge in his voice, a brokenness that doesn’t belong to a man who owns the world. “You may not want it, but you’re my son. You have always been my son. You will always be my son and I love you.”
I want to say I love him back, but there are still parts of me that need to heal—internal parts—unseen hurts that need space and air. “I can’t come home. Not yet.” If ever.
“I know. I knew it the moment you threw your first punch in that cage. You’ve found something, a direction, a path I’m not allowed on, but let me at least be a spectator. Give me the chance to meet you at the finish line.”
My own voice cracks. “Okay.”
“Okay. And so you know, I’m not abandoning you. Your room’s still yours. So’s your car and credit cards. I’ll still give Haley the scholarship.”
“I’ve got to do this on my own. The temptations you’re scared about me returning to... They belong to the world at home. I’m a boy there and here...”
“You’re a man.” Dad squeezes the only nonbruised part of my body and repeats, “You’re a man.”
“Did it bother you?” I ask. “That I ended up working with Denny?” A pause. “That I’ll still be working with Denny.”