She didn’t keep my secrets out of some bond or loyalty to me. She did it out of fear. Being with Layla has made me see what real strength looks like, and it has zero to do with muscle mass. True strength comes from resilience, an inner force that refuses to give up a fight. It comes in packages of all different sizes, five-foot-three inches of blond and gorgeous with a tongue that can slice through the biggest men with words or bring one to his knees with want.
Funny how weakness can be disguised by strength. On the outside, most would consider my father a strong man, but his unwillingness to fight for his life proves he and my mother are the perfect pair.
“How long has he been sick?” I don’t look over at her but keep my focus on the small garden across the yard.
“My guess is it’s been awhile. He was having problems but refused to see a doctor.”
“Hardheaded son of a bitch.” I push two hands through my hair and lock my fingers behind my head.
“Then when all that happened with you in Las Vegas, he changed. He made an appointment, and a few test results later . . . well, here we are.”
I tilt my head to meet her eyes. “Changed after Vegas?”
“Mm. He felt bad, I think, for not believing in you.” Her eyes narrow. “He lives with a lot of regret, Blake.”
“I highly doubt that. He’s hated me from the beginning.”
“No, he hasn’t. He . . .” She turns to the back door, probably making sure we’re not being overheard, then scoots closer to me. “He sees himself in you.”
“God, Mom”—I rub my eyes, pressing in on them until I feel the dull ache in my brain—“don’t say that. You’re confirming my worst fear by saying that. I’m about to have a baby and make Layla my wife. The last thing I want hanging over my head is the possibility that I’ll end up like him.”
“I know nothing I say will convince you, but at least give him a chance to explain.”
I shake my head, and she leans in closer to catch my eyes. “Please, just talk to him. If you don’t like what he has to say, you leave tomorrow and everything goes back to the way it was.”
“Until he dies.” My stomach pinches painfully.
She clears her throat. “Yes, Blake. Until he dies.”
“Fine.” I push up from my chair. “Where’s he at?”
She blinks up at me a few times. “Bedroom.”
I nod and pass by her into the house, heading for my parents’ room. Unease pricks at my nerves as I pass by my old bedroom. Everything looks almost exactly the same as it did the night I left. The metal band posters are gone, but the twin bed and dresser are the same.
Reaching my parents’ door, I knock softly even though it’s cracked. The sound of the local news and the blue light from the television filter through the gap.
“Come in, Son.” His voice sounds weak, as if maybe I woke him up.
I push inside to find him on his bed, his back propped up with pillows and a blue blanket over his legs.
“Do you have a second, sir?”
He nods and motions to a chair near his side of the bed before hitting Mute on the TV. “Feel better after getting some air?”
A slight heat warms my cheeks at his witness to my weakness. “Sorry I took off.” I tuck my chin and take the offered seat. “I know Mom worries. I just needed to—”
“Process.” He regards me with an understanding I’ve never seen from him before. “I get it. Took me three months, so . . . yeah, I get it.”
“And now you’ve processed?” My fists clench at my thighs. “Come to terms with the fact that you’re giving up?” I can’t help the anger that floods my veins.
He chuckles softly. “Never really thought about it as giving up. I figured I’d lived a long life. I have no desire to prolong the inevitable if it means my last few months on this earth are spent bedridden. I want to spend my time with your mom, with your brother and you, and I’d like to hold my grandbaby before my time comes”—he drops his chin and smooths his blanket—“if that’s okay with you.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I force back the emotion and remind myself that this is not the weakened man who sits before me. This is the man who smothered me until I couldn’t fight hard enough. This is the man who gave me something to fight for when I should’ve lived free and easy to do whatever the fuck I wanted.
“Dad, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry, Blake. All I ever wanted to do was protect you, and because of that I lost you.”
“Protect me from what?” I lean in closer, fixing my glare on his foggy green eyes. “You took everything I loved away from me.”
“I know, but that’s not how I saw it back then.”
“Not how you saw it?” My jaw tenses and I’m spitting words through clenched teeth. “There’s no other way to see it.”
“What you see, the man I was when you were a growing up . . .” He sighs heavily and allows a few quiet seconds to tick by. “I wasn’t tough when I was a kid. When all the other kids were outside playing, I had my nose shoved in a book. I got teased, beaten up, bullied.”
“You never told me that before.”
“It was a long time ago.” His eyes lose focus and wander away from mine. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”