Thirty-Four
Gray
Stuck in the passenger seat of Dad’s cushy rental sedan, I can barely sit still. My knee bounces, and I’m rocking back and forth as if the motion can somehow make the damn car go faster. I should stop, but I can’t. This traffic to get clear of the Super Dome is killing me. Not being with Ivy is killing me. Is she okay?
In my haste, I’d left my phone behind. I’m cursing myself now.
Pressing my fingers against my aching eyes, I try to focus on breathing. I need to calm before I totally lose it and end up kicking a hole through the floorboards.
“So it’s true?” My father’s gravelly voice cuts through the silence. “You’re with Sean Mackenzie’s oldest?”
“Ivy,” I croak out. “Yeah.” I don’t ask how he knows. Gossip is a disease in football.
“Nice kid.”
I glance at him, incredulous. But then shake my head. Of course Dad has met Ivy. She seems to know everyone in professional sports. He catches my look and shrugs. “Haven’t seen her since she was a teenager. But she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Pretty too, in a subtle way.”
I snort and grind my clenched fist against my mouth.
“And you love her?”
“I want to marry her.” Not that he needs to know. But it feels good to say. Because nothing will change that truth.
Finally, traffic breaks, and he turns the car onto the main road. For some reason, I find myself looking at his hands. Those big hands that always felt like a hammer crashing into my skull when he’d cuff my head for some minor infraction. They look old now, the knuckles swollen, the skin spotted with age. A sick lurch goes through me.
I lean back, stare out the windows.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been home,” Dad says in a low voice.
“I am home,” I say. When he doesn’t answer me, I glare at him. “Did you really think I’d ever come back?”
His profile is like granite. “Why wouldn’t you?”
My laugh is bitter and short. “Here’s a tip. You want your child to visit? You don’t fucking beat his ass when he’s a defenseless kid. You don’t let his older fuckhead brothers beat his ass.” I’m yelling now, my voice ringing in the space between us. “And you don’t fucking leave him alone to take care of his dying mother.”
Dad had been stoic until the mention of my mom. But his gaze slices to mine. Red flushes over his weathered cheeks. “First off, I never beat you. I pushed you to excel.” At my ripe curse, he glares. “And look at you now. The best in your position. Hell if you won’t be the number-one pick. That discipline helped forge you into a champion.”
“I excelled due to innate talent and hard work. Not because you and Jonas and Leif whaled on me when I did something wrong.”
His lips press together. For a long moment, he doesn’t say a word. Which is fine by me.
“I didn’t know how bad they’d gotten,” he says finally, quietly. “I was just trying to do right by you. Make you tough.”
“Well, brilliant. Only don’t expect me to care.” I lean my head against the window. Will this ride ever end? My chest is so tight it hurts to breathe. I refuse to think about Ivy right now. Not in this car.
Again, my dad speaks. “I shouldn’t have left you to deal with Liv.”
Grinding my teeth to keep from shouting, I force a calm tone. “I didn’t ‘deal’ with Mom. I was there for her. I wanted to be. I just didn’t want to be the only one to do it.” Something sticks in my throat, and I struggle to clear it. “I needed help. She needed her whole family, Dad.”
He nods, concentrating on the road. “I know. I was wrong.” His knuckles turn white. “I couldn’t… I wasn’t strong enough. But you were. You’re the best of us, Gray.”
His words sit like a stone on my chest. I say nothing.
“I’m proud of you, son.”