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The rest of the practice goes smoothly. Theo thrives on competition, and I’m proud of his perseverance. I sense Scarlett’s gaze on me a few times, but I keep my attention on that kid in the arena because unless she speaks, I haven’t mastered the art of reading minds. However, ever since the kiss on my front porch, there’s been this… thing sitting there between us, the very thing I wanted to avoid in the first place—awkwardness.
Practice finally ends—Scarlett darts away like she’s on fire—and I snatch up Theo’s bag, noting next time I do a load of laundry, this bag gets tossed in. Or fucking trashed because it stinks.
“You remember to put on deodorant every day, right?” I ask with a laugh, watching as my son quirks up an eyebrow at me in confusion.
“Duh. Why?”
Scratching the back of my neck, I regard him closely before proceeding. “I’m going to give it to you straight. You stink, and it’s puberty’s fault.” I chuck on his shoulder. “Just keeping an eye out on you. I’m sure girls are noticing you, and I’d hate for them to smell ya first. Especially after practice.”
He scowls, muttering, “ew, girls,” before wrinkling up his nose, his tiny freckles spread across his face because of the summer sun. Raising an arm, he takes a sniff at his armpit and then shrugs as if whatever odor present under there doesn’t bother him.
“I love ya, kid. Can you stay young forever?” I tug him into my side and fluff his hair. “Growing up is for the birds.” Growing up, loving someone from afar, all makes a person want to turn back time to simpler days.
“Can I ask you something?” He peers up at me, a frown marring his face.
I stop at the truck and turn around to face him, leaning against the passenger door. “Sure, what’s up, bud?”
“I overheard someone at your work.” He eyes the ground and shuffles in his boots like he’s uncomfortable.
“Okay…what did they say?” I’ve told Lukas to keep a lid on his extracurricular activities, so if it’s gossip, he probably heard it from him.
“They said Mom and Uncle Preston used to be together. Is that true?” His voice wobbles and my stomach drops to the pavement.
What the fuck, how do I answer that? I can’t lie to him, but the truth isn’t simple, not at all, and certainly not for a twelve-year-old to understand.
My hands tremble as I tug my hat off and squeeze the bill between sweaty palms. “Yes. They were, uh, engaged, before you were born.”
Theo blows out a breath, but I don’t think it’s in relief. “What happened to them? And don’t lie because I’ve gotten really good at math and something isn’t adding up to me.”
Oh fuck. I wish Scar hadn’t left early; I could really use her as back up here. “They broke up.”
“Why? From what I heard, it was because of you.”
The dagger digs deep, and I almost double over with pain. To have my son, my flesh and blood, hear about my past and not from my own lips, and question his parentage? Bile rises, incinerating my throat—all my nightmares are coming true.
I’m gutted. Totally flayed alive.
“Your mom and I made a mistake in college.”
“So, I was a mistake?” His blue eyes well and those glossy tears snake down his dusty cheeks.
I almost drop to my knees, catching myself on the door handle of my truck. “No!” the shout rips from my throat, “no, no, Jesus, no. Not at all.”Oh my God, what is happening here?
He swipes his face with his forearm; the snot trailing from his nose and sniffs. “Is Uncle P my real dad?”
Choking on my heart, I reach out and grab Theo by the shoulders, bringing him eye level to me, every ounce of truth lacing my words. “You aremyson. There’s no doubt about that.” I gulp in some air before continuing. “Remember when I told you why I run every day and why I write in my journal daily?”
He bites his lip, his fingers digging into the denim of his jeans. “Yeah.”
“My past self messed up a lot, and while I didn’t always make the best decisions, me and your mom got you out of it and we’d never,everconsider that a mistake. Okay? We freaking love you more than anything, you hear me?”
He watches me carefully, his blue eyes swimming and then he barrels into my chest, burrowing his head under my chin and I take in deep, ragged breaths, my heart cracking and repairing at the same time.
“Yeah, I do, Dad. I love you, too,” his muffled voice vibrates against my chest, and I hold him tighter, the salt from my tears settling into the seam of my tight lips.
Every fatherly instinct in me wants to rally. Gossip—this vile and this vicious—further proves the point that people don’t forget the bad things you’ve done, no matter how hard you’ve worked to change. Maybe Scarlett couldn’t either and this pipe dream of her and me together I’ve constructed in my mind… was doomed from the beginning. I should let it go and concentrate on what Iamgood at. Being a dad.
