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“The guy started getting all sappy, telling me about what a good baby you were, and that you never cried much. So sometimes, he would forget all about you.” Derrick grunted. “Which was when I punched him in the arm. Something my sister called to bitch at me about the next day because it left a huge bruise.”
I wrapped my fingers around his, stopping his circle drawing, and squeezed. “I think I just fell a little in love with you.”
He grinned, and I found myself returning it. “My bucket list is complete, then. I got the most beautiful redhead in the world to fall for me. I can die a happy man now.”
A giggle escaped me, and I released his hand.
“After I punched him and he whined like a little bitch, he started telling me all kinds of things about you. Like how you would get pissed at him and take your diaper off and hide it in his dresser. It was always his underwear drawer, and it was always a messy kind of diaper.”
My cheeks flamed as red as my hair, and I covered my face in embarrassment.
He laughed and went on. “Whenever your mom would leave you with him to run errands, you would always hide from him and only come out when he started screaming in panic.”
“I don’t remember any of this,” I mumbled behind my fingers.
“My favorite, though, is how one time your parents were arguing, and you ran straight at him and headbutted him right in the balls. He grabbed himself like he was remembering the pain, or maybe the pain was so bad it still lingered, from the way he described it.”
“He deserved it, I’m sure.”
“Agreed,” he said with a deep, throaty laugh.
A waiter appeared, and since I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet, I just ordered the tequila lime chicken. Derrick ordered the same, along with some wine to pair with our meal. But as soon as the waiter was gone, he was back to telling me more about what my father had drunkenly confessed to him. His face turned serious, though, the amusement fading from his eyes. “Scott told me all about you, things I think surprised even him that he knew about you, Kin.”
“Like?” I got out hoarsely.
“The chicken, for one. The way you always made up songs, for another. You would dance around the house, making up songs so easily he even wrote a few of them down. He says he still has them. He showed me one, actually. It was old and folded up on a piece of notebook paper. I was scared to touc
h it because it looked like it was falling apart, but he read it to me, and then he started crying.”
A lump filled my throat. “Why are you telling me this, Derrick?”
“Because I’m not sure he ever would have told you any of this himself. Hell, sweetheart, I’m pretty sure he never meant to tell me any of this. But I’m glad he did. It tells me he loves you. Yeah, he seems to have lost his way for a while and I still want to kick his ass for that, but he cares about you, Kin.”
It went against everything I knew about Scott to accept that, but for some reason, what Derrick was telling me was making my heart jump with hope. Maybe my dad did care. Maybe he did love me.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” I demanded, glaring at him. “Maybe you’re just making all of this up in hopes I’ll be the first to mend our fences, or whatever bullshit metaphor you want to use here. You love your sister and want her to be happy. Maybe this is just to trick me into welcoming her with opening arms.”
He sighed heavily. “I get it. You’re stubborn, and you don’t want to believe me. But it’s the truth, honey. And as much as I love my sisters, I wouldn’t hurt you in any way just to make Shannon happy. Because, yeah, I do love them all. They’re crazy, and I wouldn’t change them for anything. But I would kill for my nieces, Kin. And you’re one of them now.”
“Not yet,” I grumbled.
He grinned. “As good as.”
“Whatever.” I leaned my elbows on the table. “I want to see this song.”
“Why would I lie about a song you made up as a kid?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps I don’t think you’re lying about it. Maybe I just want to make sure I’ve got my copyrights taken care of and he can’t profit from it.”
Derrick threw his head back, laughing hard and pulling others’ gazes to him. I leaned back in my chair, smiling a little myself. Begrudgingly, I believed him because I couldn’t figure out what he would have to gain by lying about anything he’d told me regarding my father.
“Are you normally the fixer of all your family members’ problems?” I asked once the wine arrived and was poured.
“Depends on the situation. We tend to take turns a lot. I just got lucky that this particular problem fell—almost literally—into my lap.” He winked, lifting his glass and taking a drink.
“I’ll believe you under one condition.” His brows lifted. “I get to call you Uncle Derrick.”
“No deal.”
