“What’s that version?” he asks.
“I remember a preacher once saying there’s at least two categories of forgiveness. One is just as much about you as it is about the other person because unforgiveness left on its own too long becomes bitterness. And that can creep into every part of your life, end up hurting the people you love who had nothing to do with the person who hurt you.”
“And the other category?”
“That’s when someone you love has hurt you, and you hold on to it as long as you can until you can’t anymore. The hurt of being apart from that person outweighs the hurt of what they did, and you just wanna make it right so you can repair the relationship.”
Irony soaks the silent moment while Rhyson processes what I said. That preacher was my father, and I’ve still never found a way to forgive him.
“So which category did I fall into?” As soft as Rhyson’s question is, it jars me.
“What do you mean?”
“When you forgave me? Was it the first or the second?”
“Maybe it was both.” My throat is so raw it hurts to laugh. “I just woke up one morning and really needed to hear your voice. It just so happened to be the same day you asked to hear mine.”
“Yeah?” The smile is back in his voice.
“Yeah.” I’m smiling, too. I knew he could do that. “Sometimes forgiveness is a decision you make with your head that takes a while to reach your heart, and sometimes it’s just . . . there. You’ll know how to move forward with your dad. Your mom, too.”
“Hey, speaking of my mother, she said she saw you at the wedding. Was she rude to you?”
There’s always winter in Rhyson’s voice when he speaks of his mother. A chill that I never hear for anyone else, not even his dad.
“No, she was cordial. I think she’s hoping San and I will hook up and you’ll be safe from my clutches.”
“San?” His voice predictably hardens. “The hell?”
“Calm down, baby. It was a joke.”
Kind of.
“Jokes are funny, Pep.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Hey, can I ask you something stupid?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’m serious. You know I love you, right?” Something in his voice desperately searches for the answer. “Not some twisted around control thing handed down from my parents, like real love. You know you’re the most important thing, right?”
“Baby, why—”
“Just answer me. Just tell me you know.”
“Rhys, I know.” I close my eyes to savor this sweet moment his words just made for me.
“Good. Yeah, well.” He sounds like now he feels silly. “I just wanted to make sure.”
A smile stretches over my face as I recall our day at the music festival. “I keep thinking about that day at the beach. It was—”
“Kai!” Dub’s voice snatches me away from the conversation. “There’s a blogger Malcolm wants you to talk to. Hurry up so we can get back to the routine as soon as you’re done.”
He’s covered in curiosity. Who am I off talking to by myself with a goofy grin on my face?
“I’ll be right there.” I wait for him to walk away before speaking. “Hey, I gotta—”
“I heard Dub.” Rhyson’s tone is stiff as bark. “Duty calls.”
“You know there’s nothing going on between us.” My voice drops to a whisper. “You know it’s only you.”
“I know how you feel. I have my suspicions about him.”
So do I, but that would inflame this conversation, and I don’t want that when we only have seconds left.
“Can I be completely honest with you?” he asks.
“Always.”
And I’ll be completely honest with him . . . as soon as I figure out how.
“I knew you’d make it big. I just thought I’d be a part of it.”
“You are, Rhys. You are.”
“I haven’t even seen you perform on tour. Not one show. And to know that he gets to . . .”
A harsh breath breaks the silence his words slipped into.
“He’s there every step. He gets to share all of it with you, and I hate that.” He’s quiet for just a second. “I want that.”
So do I.
“I’d probably be really nervous if I knew you were in the audience and fall on my face anyway,” I say to lighten the moment heavy with his honesty. “But I do wish you were here, too.”
“The tour’s ending in LA, right?”
“Yeah, it was a scheduling nightmare. By all rights, we should have done LA with the North American leg, but Luke wanted to end it all in his hometown with a big bang.”
“Maybe I’ll catch that last show here in town.”
I’ve been performing for thousands every night, but the thought of this one man in the audience breaks me out in a cold sweat.
“Okay.” A nervous laugh breaks free. “Just don’t tell me for sure.”
“Kai, come on.” He chuckles. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. I can’t explain it, but knowing you’re there would freak me out.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you if I come. I couldn’t come to a show right now even if I wanted to anyway,” he says. “I’m helping Jimmi with her album, putting finishing touches on Marlon’s, and working on a few of my tracks.”