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I blow out a long breath after I swallow a mouthful. I guess that for as much as I’ve written my dad off lately, he might bethe sounding board I need…as long as I don’t get too detailed, it can’t hurt to get his perspective. Maybe he’s an asshole half the time, but the other half of the time, he isn’t.
“I ended it with someone I started to care deeply for, and it hurts.”
“Oh. I had no idea,” he says.
I take another sip of tequila. “Because I didn’t let you in on it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you ran to the media with shit about Lincoln, and you killed our trust in you.”
“I didn’t run to the media. I talked to a friend in the media about the history between two families at odds. I’ve apologized profusely,” he says defensively.
“You were trying to ruin a family twenty years after you already ruined yourself,” I say dryly.
He sighs heavily. “Call it what you want, but that’s not true. It’s in the past, and why are we talking about this right now?”
“I know you lost everything when you lost the bar. I know you blame Lincoln for all of it. And I know you’re trying to mend your relationship with him. But I’ll be honest, Dad. You haven’t been the same since you and Mom ended things, and you haven’t made me feel like I can come to you when I’m going through something.”
“Is that why you ran away to Grayson’s for the last few days?” he asks. He takes the tequila from my palm and helps himself to a sip.
“You bet your ass it’s why. I had something I was working on, and I needed a quiet space to do it in. You had your friends over for poker night, and you were smoking here, and…” I trail off and shrug. “I had to get away for a while.”
“I’m sorry. You should’ve said something.”
“I’m saying it now. It’s why I’m moving out, Dad.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do that. I know you wanted me out, and I’ll figure something out. I know you don’t want to know this about your old man, but I’ve been where you are. I’ve done the thing where I had to end it with someone I cared deeply for. Sometimes in life, we have to make choices that aren’t what we want, even if they’re right.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, and I realize how I don’t really know a damn thing about this man. He was with my mom since they were in high school, so how could he have been where I am?
He said something not so long ago about being twenty-eight and dumb. Is this related to that?
I have no idea, and I don’t have the energy to find out. I take the bottle of tequila back, and I take another sip.
“So what are you going to do?” he asks.
“About?”
“The girl.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “Nothing, I guess. It’s over now. It was good while it lasted, and I’ll have to chalk it up to that.”
He nods. “You could do that. Or you could really think about what you want out of your future. I know I pushed hard to make football the center of your life…but look where it got me. I’m an old man now with no wife, kids who hate me, and no job. I lost the respect of the league I loved so goddamn much, all in the name of doing what I thought was right for the people I cared about most. Don’t end up like me.”
“Your kids don’t hate you, Dad,” I say softly.
He presses his lips together and raises his brows. It’s the one part I commented on, but it’s not the biggest part of what he said.
He’s right about pushing hard to make football our priority, and he’s right that I don’t want to end up like him.
Am I putting football before her? I’m loyal to my team, and her dad is a part of that. I’m putting respect first. Loyalty and honor.
It’s the right thing, isn’t it?
So why does it feel so goddamn wrong?
I want to call her. I want to hear her voice. I want to reverse the damage I’ve done.
