The kind that’s a fuckup.
“Are you mad?” The question comes from Zander. It takes me aback. I stare at him for a long moment before I realize that this is a part of parenting I’ve missed out on. Answering those kinds of questions that you don’t know how. I’ve seen it with Grady through the years, wondering if I’d make the same choices he has. I always come out realizing that I don’t know what the fuck I’d do. Because back then, fantasizing about having Baby Z and Mugs back in my life was just that—a fucking fantasy. The only thing I had was the what-ifs.
“No,” I say. It’s too complicated to explain to a kid.
Amber shuffles and clears her throat, saying, “I don’t lie to him. Tell him the truth.”
“It is the truth.” I stare her down for a long minute before stepping away and walking to my boy. For being so tall and with such broad shoulders, right now he looks so much younger than his fourteen years. I don’t know how I’m going to explain the situation to him, or if he’d even understand, but I can’t fuck Amber over with this. She tells me to be honest with him, so I’ll do it and hope for the best.
Fuck, I hate this shit.
“Hey,” I say to get his attention, but he doesn’t look at me. Irritation swells in me, but I fight hard to bite it back. “Dude, come on.” The change in tone from father to club president gets his attention. His eyes are watery and a little red in the center. Fuck. No wonder he didn’t want to look at me.
“I’m pissed,” I say. He stares at me with shock all over his face. Shit. He looks so much like I did when I was his age. “Because I fucked up. No kid should grow up without their dad. I’m pissed because I was a goddamn idiot and should have fought for you and your mom. I was into a lot of bad shit until recently, and it cost me my son. That fucking hurts. Finding out I got a little girl—a baby I fucking begged your mom for—that tears me up. But I’m not pissed at her. That shit’s on me. You don’t take a woman like your mom and fuck her over. Not ever.”
Zander stands so still, eyeing me warily. He probably only heard about half of what I said, if even. But Amber heard, and that’s enough for now.
“Are you going to leave?”
Fuck. I just want to hug the kid and not let go of him. I used to think about what he’d be like when he was born, or if he’d be into sports or cars like I was. I spent so much time wondering what my boy would be like, but not any of those dreams, no matter how big or grand, live up to even a fraction of the reality of having this kid stand in front of me and asking me a question like that. This is the reason I got clean—so I could have and remember moments like this. I just didn’t know I’d ever get them.
“Nope. Never. I’m going to be so far up your ass, you’re going to think I’m toilet paper.”
Zander laughs like I’m joking, but he’s got a goofy smile on his face, and fuck if it isn’t the best thing I’ve seen all day.
“Good,” Amber says from behind me. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
CHAPTER 12
In this moment, everything is perfect. My family—my old lady and my beautiful, perfect kids—are sitting around Thumper’s old wooden kitchen table. I’m leaning back in my chair, just chilling as I watch the three of them interact. Amber pulls me into conversation every now and then, and Zander is quiet as hell, but he keeps staring at me like I’ve got two heads or something. I want to talk to him, but when I try, I just fucking freeze up and can’t. Piper is in her high chair and talking her little baby ass off in a language that Amber pretends to speak, but she can’t possibly. Her conversational skills are about as solid as mine are when I’m fucked-up—nothing makes any sense.
Amber’s eyes shift to mine and she tries—and fails—to subtlety nod her head in Zander’s direction. My eyes widen and I shrug my shoulders. The woman’s got to give me some help here. I don’t know how to be a dad. Fuck.
“Do you like movies?” I ask Zander. His eyes shoot to mine immediately, but he doesn’t speak. He just nods his head. I suck in an unsteady breath and stand.
“Are you leaving?” His face pales, and his eyes bounce from me to his mom. His brows draw together, and his knuckles are white as he grips his fork like his life depends on it.