by Louise, Tia
“I can do that.” He nods. “Hell, I’m going to be freaking out until I know you’re okay.”
“Join the club.”
“Well, I think that’s just wonderful.” GA walks slowly into the kitchen with Hope right beside her. “I hope it works out for you.”
“I hope so, too.” Hope lifts her crossed fingers.
I don’t know what they’re talking about, but she’s adorable. Then she turns to me, and her expression warms. She’s still smiling, but her pretty eyes are so full of questions.
A bitter ache twists in my chest, and I know as much as it hurts, I’ve got to let her go now, too.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I feel Scout stiffen at my side.
“Sure.” Her voice is soft, and I step forward to catch her hand.
He turns behind her holding his hands over head and pointing as he mouths, Marry her.
I shake my head. Leading her outside to the waiting car, I think about what I’m going to say. I don’t want to tell her the truth, that I violated my parole and if I’m caught, I’ll go back to prison. It’s still hard grappling with the fact I was even in prison. The lies, the fact my father never came to my defense, still burns in my stomach. Add to that, I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to clear my name, get my life back.
I don’t want her worrying like my brother.
We stop at the driver’s side door, and she looks up at me expectantly. “What’s up?”
The wind pushes her wavy hair across her pink cheeks, and her blue eyes are so bright. For a minute I can’t speak, I can only gaze at her loveliness, wishing things were different.
Last night was everything. She smelled like honeysuckle and tasted like the ocean. She was electric, melting into me, fueling my desire. We made love until I wasn’t sure where I ended and she began. It was so good. It was everything I needed. It was like coming home.
It felt like my brother is right…
It felt perfect.
“I want you to keep the car.” My voice is low.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “But you paid for it.”
“I never paid for it. I used the seven-day trial period to get it.” I can’t tell her I never planned to keep it.
“Don’t you need it?” She reaches up to move a silky lock of hair off her face.
My fingers curl with wanting to do that. It’ll only make this harder. “It’s your dad’s dream car. You need to hang onto it.”
A sad little smile lifts her lips, and she glances down at her boot-clad feet. “I don’t know how much longer I can. I don’t even know what I’m doing here… Am I staying? Going back?”
My eyes squeeze shut, and a knot is in my throat. Still, I have to say it. “You can decide what you want to do. I’m flying back to San Francisco tonight.”
Her lips part, and she pulls back. “Tonight?”
“I’ve got unfinished business, and if I don’t get back—”
“So that’s it? You’re leaving me here?”
I can’t tell if she’s angry or hurt. Or both. And I hate it.
“Hope…” My chest tightens. “We knew from the start it would end this way.”
“End?” She blinks fast, and the mist in her eyes guts me.
Reaching forward, I pull her to my chest. Her body is tense like she’s fighting me. Still, I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight to my heart.
“If I could change things…” My voice is rough.
We don’t speak, and gradually she starts to relax. Her hands are on my waist, her cheek against my chest. I want to kiss her…
Releasing her, I step back, sliding a hand in my pocket. “Your dreams don’t deserve to wait on me and my shit.”
Her head is bowed, but she squints up at me. “This year has taught me I can wait on a lot of things.”
This girl. “Hope Eternal… You’re always so positive. So wise. How do you do it?”
Shaking her head, she blinks away from me. “I have a dream. I just hold onto it.”
“What is it?”
She looks across the top of the car at the blue sky. “It’s doing what I love. It’s being with someone who loves me as much as I love him.”
Her words resonate in my soul. The truth of what she and I have shared is undeniable, but is it possible?
Stepping forward I grasp her waist, drawing her to me. I can’t resist her. I lower my mouth to hers, parting her lips.
Her arms wrap around my neck as our tongues slide together, and her body presses against mine. It’s magnetism and chemistry and friction. It’s all the elements coming together. It’s completion.
I kiss her cheek. I trace my lips to her eyebrow, inhaling one last time at the top of her head. I’ll never forget her scent.
Lifting my chin, I focus on the blue sky above, the only thing we have for sure. “Goodbye, Hope.”
“Goodbye?”
Taking her hand, I look into her eyes. “I said I’d never lie to you. I can’t make a promise I can’t keep. I don’t know what’s coming next, but if there’s any chance—”
She steps forward, placing her fingers lightly to my lips. “I’ll wait for that chance.”
Jr
I park GA’s ancient Chevy pickup outside my father’s grand estate. It’s a beat-up old orange step side, but my grandmother says a truck is the most useful vehicle on the road. When I suggest she could at least upgrade to a more recent model, she accuses me of ageism.
“I know all this ole boy’s quirks. I’m too old to start over with a younger model.”
Who am I to argue with her?
It’s a conversation that soothes the gaping hole in my chest. Hope refused taking money from me. She said her phone had Apple pay, whatever that means. She’ll find the envelope of cash I tucked inside her teddy bear coat.
She climbed in that Impala and drove away, and I felt like a chain had been hooked to my heart, my lungs, my stomach. All three were ripped out, dragging along the road behind her like beat up old tin cans.
Now I’m standing on the front porch, waiting to confront my dad. Three days ago, this moment was the only thing on my mind. She’s right… this year has taught us a lot.
The door opens, and Becky crosses her arms as she surveys me. “So you’re back.”
It’s not a question. She’s dressed in mom jeans and a green sweater. Her straight, white-blonde hair is smoothed into a high ponytail, and even though it’s a young look, that severity in her eyes makes her look so cold. I can’t help wondering… Did I ever love her? I loved Jesse from the moment I saw him, purple and red and screaming his head off.
But her?
“I’m here to see my father.” My voice is flat.
“He’s not seeing people right now. He’s working on the books.”
“He’ll see me.” I’ve lost too much getting to this point to walk away.
Her hip cocks to the side, and her eyebrow arches. “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Consequences be damned, I push past her into the foyer. We grew up in this house, but it was never decorated like this. It looks like something out of one of those British movies. The ones with those old ladies in frilly dresses with pinched up faces squawking about tea time.
“Dad?” I shout, looking up the polished-oak staircase. “Dad?”
“Stop shouting, John.”
My eyebrows rise, but I don’t care to ask since when she calls me John. I don’t have time. “Tell me where he is.”
“I already told you—”
“It’s okay, Rebecca.” My dad’s polished voice interrupts. “The prodigal returns. Unexpected, but isn’t everything these days?”
He looks strangely younger than he did two years ago. His hair seems less gray, and his skin a bit tighter. He’s always been fit, even when we were young. Today he’s dressed in a navy Adidas track suit, and he holds out his arms like I’m fucking going to hug him.
Anger blazes to life in my chest. “Cut the crap. You know why I’m here.”
“My boy. Always the straight-shooter.” He lowers his gaze on mine. “And why are you here, John?”
When I was a kid, I remember grown men being intimidated by my dad’s leveled gaze.
I’m not intimidated. “Tell me why you sent me to San Francisco.” Energy rises in my chest with every word. “Tell me why you had me meet a supplier we’d never worked with. Why I had to go alone. Was it all for her?”
His eyes soften, and he dares to act like I’m amusing him. “Come. Let’s talk in the study.”
Holding out a hand, he motions towards the short hall leading under the stairs. I follow him into a wood-paneled room lined with bookcases filled with all sorts of books—fiction, nonfiction, hard- and soft-bound. It smells like a library. I would sit in here to do my homework when Mom was still alive. Otherwise, Scout and I were relegated to less fragile parts of the house.
Going around a green leather wingback, he takes a seat behind the desk. I sit in a matching chair across from him.
“You insisted I go alone.” I repeat, ready for his confession. I’ve had almost two years to think about all the ways he set me up, then never showed up to defend me.
“Let me get this straight.” He rocks back, and his voice drips with sarcasm. “You came all this way to make what you did my problem?”
“I came to make you confess. I spent eighteen months locked in a cell, not knowing what might happen from day to day, not able to see my son …” I have to stop there.
If I think of Jesse, I’ll lose control.
Focus.
“Did you do it all for her?”
If he says yes… What a waste.
I’m a completely different guy than I was when I left here that morning, and I know for sure I’m not in love with the woman standing in the foyer. I wonder if I ever was.
“I didn’t do it for Rebecca.” Leaning forward he levels his gaze on mine. “I didn’t like Clyde. He was twitchy and suspicious, and I didn’t trust him. I figured if anyone could handle him, it was you.”
“So you knew.” It’s not a question. It’s an answer. “You set me up.”
“I did not set you up.” His voice rises. “I sent you to see if the guy was legit.”
“But you didn’t tell me. You were hoping I wouldn’t come back.”
His eyes cut to the desk, and he doesn’t dispute me.
Rage spikes in my veins. “When did you start sleeping with her?”
Blue eyes, same as mine cut through me. “Yes, I wanted to fuck her.” It’s a lusty rasp. “Rebecca always made my dick hard in that short little cheerleader skirt, flirting with her eyes at me.”
My throat tightens. “You’re sick.”
“Come back in a few years, and we’ll talk.” His eyes narrow. “I was forty-two when you were a senior. Your mother had been dead ten years.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I never touched her before your divorce.” He taps the mahogany with his middle finger. “That’s the truth, John.”
Shifting in my chair, I decide to let that part go. “If it wasn’t a setup, why didn’t you help me? You let them convict me when you knew I was innocent.”
“I didn’t know anything. First your brother goes to California and becomes a porn star, then you head out there and start dealing drugs. I couldn’t pollute the brand any further with your behavior.”
Slamming my palm on his desk, I stand and lean closer. “You knew I wasn’t dealing drugs.” My voice is low. “You knew what happened.”
If he’s intimidated, it only lasts a second. He’s on his feet just as fast. “I’ll tell you what I knew. I knew you got an offer to play with the Chiefs, and you turned it down. I knew you had the chance I never got and you walked away from it for what? To work at a gym?”
I’m momentarily thrown. “What the fuck are you talking about? Becky was pregnant. I didn’t want to play for the NFL. I wanted to be a father. I wanted to be here with my family.”
“Everybody needs money. And with a wife like Becky, you needed a lot of it.”
It’s like the rug is jerked out from under me. I take a beat to catch my breath. “Are you honestly standing there saying… You really fucking believed I was dealing drugs for money?”
“A lot of guys in this business do it.”
“So you turned your back on me just like you did Scout, who for the record is not a porn star. He’s a dumbass, but he’s not a porn star.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate to admit it.
Standing here across from him, I remember how I thought I’d react in this moment. I thought I’d grab him by the neck and shake him. I imagined yelling in his face what a son of a bitch he is. I planned to rail at him for the time he stole from me with my son, the memories I lost.
And that was before I knew he’d married my ex-wife.
I never expected this.
Shaking my head, I step over to the bookcase where a framed photo sits of Scout and me holding a football, so young and innocent. It’s all he ever cared about. “We’re your sons, and you fucking don’t know us at all.”
Turning back, I study my father. He’s my height, fit and muscular, and he looks like a very small man. Fifty-three and dressed in a track suit, married to a shrew who’s probably only interested in his money.
I pity him.
“If I was wrong, I apologize.”
“You were wrong.”
“Well…” He nods, and something like regret crosses his face. “I apologize.”
“You’re going to do more than that.” Returning to the chair, I lean forward. “You’re going to help me clear my name. You’re going to give me my son full-time, and it’s not going to be a discussion. It’s going to happen.”
His eyes remain on the desk in front of him. “I have no interest in starting over as a dad at my age.”
I go to the door and stop. He’s still sitting there looking defeated. I’m done with him. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
Becky is waiting when I return to the foyer. I’m not interested in talking to her either, but when our eyes meet, her thin lips press together.
Her chin lifts, and she shakes her ponytail back. “John?”
I pause, curious about what the fuck she might have to say to me.
“I never meant to hurt you.” Her fingers twist, and she almost seems nervous. Almost. “We married too young. Your dad was here. I was lonely.”
Is this how she’s rewriting history? “I was always here. If you were lonely, that’s on you.”
“You were here, but you were playing with Jesse or going to your grandmother’s or doing things with Scout. You weren’t here with me. I was alone. Bill was the only person who found me interesting.”
After what he just told me, I don’t want to think about why my father found her interesting.
Relaxing my stance, I don’t want to fight. I just want her to go away. “Look, you can let yourself off the hook. I’m not hurt. I only want my son.”
She has the nerve to look concerned. “What does that mean?”
“It means, he’s not staying with Alice. He’s moving in with me.”
“And I don’t get a say? He’s my son, too, John.”
“Are you pretending to care?”
“I’m not a monster,” she sniffs. “I don’t mind if he lives with you full-time, but I like visiting him every week.”
“I have no problem with you visiting him.”
“You’re not going back to California?”
Her question makes me hesitate, wondering how much she knows or how much she’s been able to put together. “I’m going back tonight.”
“It’s out of the question. You’re not taking my son to California.” Her eyes flash, and she steps forward. “Are you even supposed to be here?”
“No, but I’m working on it.”
She hesitates, realizing she has
an advantage. “What would happen if I picked up this phone and called the parole board right now?”
Anger flares in my chest, and I step forward, looking down my nose at her. “If you do that, you’d better pray they put me away for life.”
Her defiance holds a moment before she backs down, scampering from the room. “I’m going to speak to your father about this.”
“She’s not calling anyone.” My father’s voice fills the room.
Becky makes a surprised noise and stops. I’m momentarily taken aback, but I can only hope what I said put a crack in the stone where his heart should be. “Thanks.”
Becky pipes up from beside him. “Don’t ever threaten my family again, John Roth.”
I’m annoyed at her using my given name like she’s my mother, but my father puts his hand over hers. “Do what you need to do, son.”
Glancing at the clock, I’m out of time. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ve added your name to the prayer chain, John.” GA’s hand is in the crook of my arm as we walk slowly towards airport security. I’m still amazed I got a one-way ticket for less than a hundred dollars. “We’ve faced worse orgies than this, and the Lord answers prayer.”
“Ogres, Gran.” Scout’s voice is low, and he glances over his shoulder around the small space. “The word is ogres.”
She frowns at him. “That’s what I said. We’ve prayed against worse orgies than the California judicial system. God will provide.”
My brother gives up trying to correct her. “What orgies have you prayed against worse than this?”
“Don’t be rude, Bradley,” GA scolds. “Regina’s cousin Gwen had a spot on her lung last year, and Regina put her on the prayer chain. When Gwen went for her follow-up appointment, the doctors couldn’t believe it. The spot was gone.”
Scout makes a skeptical face.
“Don’t you question the power of prayer, Bradley Scout!”
He throws up his hands. “I’m not questioning. Y’all pray.”
Their banter does little to ease the ache in my chest.
Jesse is on my hip. His arms are around my neck, and his head hasn’t left my shoulder. I’ve waited as long as I could to go through security. Now I have to leave.