I pull back just enough to look up at him, my attention fully locked in now despite the sex mess running down my leg. “You serious? Who is he? What does he have?”
Jaxon brushes my hair back from my face and kisses me again, softer this time. “It's a lot to take in. Are you sure you want to get involved?"
My heart hammers in my chest again, this time for a different reason. “Yes. Tell me everything.” If we can take Langford out of the equation, both of our businesses can be saved, and if Jaxon has a way to do that, I’m all ears.
Right after I put my clothing back on.
27
JAXON
My chest is swollen so big, I think it might explode everywhere. The minute this guy told me I got approved with my pension as collateral, I almost flipped out. My hand can't sign these official forms fast enough.
"And you're positive your father will sign the rest of the paperwork required?" he asks with stern eyes locked on my face. I don’t care if Dad likes it or not. I'll wait until he's wasted and get him to sign them by telling him I got detention like I’m in high school again.
"I'm positive, Mr. Clingler. Dad understands how badly he needs to do this as much as I do." I'm already standing, ready to head home and tell the old man the good news, as the banker rises and collects all the forms.
"I must warn you, Jaxon, that if your father doesn't agree to this, all this hard work will be for nothing. And of course it's dependent on the pension being verified too." He taps the stack of papers on his desk to straighten them and nods at the printer. "I'll get your copies."
"Yeah, I know he's got to sign, and I'll get in touch with the VA. I won't start getting it for a few months, but they'll verify that it's there." I can't believe how much relief I feel at having secured this mortgage. On my pay, I can't afford a payment this high, but between me and Dad both, we should be able to cover it until my pension does kick in. After that, Dad is welcome to stay as long as he wants.
I'll still consider it his home and maybe even sign the deed over to him when we finally get this thing paid off. It's just good to know not all of our problems are going to be an uphill battle.
"Well, here you are," Clingler says, handing me my copies of the files. "Have your father come in to sign and we'll send this to the underwriters ASAP."
"Thank you," I tell him, taking the papers from him.
Then I turn and walk out, feeling lighter than I have in months. With the papers in hand, I jump in the truck and head home. I'm walking on air today. Nothing on earth could bring me down. So when I pull into the drive and park out front, I brace myself to keep this same good mood regardless of my father's reaction.
The smell of whiskey hits me the second I open the door. Dad sits at the kitchen table in the same clothes he wore yesterday, a half-empty bottle beside him and a glass in his shaky hand. His eyes are red and unfocused when he looks up at me, but they're alert. He's not totally wasted—yet.
“Everything’s gone,” he mutters before I can even speak. “That damn fire took the last job. No money coming in. City’s gonna take the yard, the equipment, the house. We’re done, boy. Might as well start packing.” It's such a negative way to look at thingswhen this fight is far from over, but I see how he can feel so defeated, he wants to give up.
I set the folder down on the table and sigh hard, standing over him feeling like I’m the parent and he's the kid. “Dad, stop.”
He keeps talking like he didn’t hear me, words staking over each other about bills and Mom’s hospital stuff and how he failed everybody. I let him go on but I reach over and pull the glass out of his hand. “Listen to me," I say, cutting him off. He tries to grab it back but I hold it away. “I just came from the bank, Dad. I got approved for a mortgage on the house—big enough to cover the back taxes, pay off the rest of Mom’s medical bills, and give the company enough to get back on its feet. We’re not losing anything.”
His eyes narrow like he thinks I’m messing with him. “You what?”
“I put my pension up as collateral. They’ll verify it, but they need your signature too because the deeds and the company are still in your name. I already told them you’d sign." I'm not trying to be pushy or angry, but someone has to be the adult here, and it's clear that he's been so out of it over losing Mom for so long that he's forgotten how.
Dad stares at me for a long beat, then his face twists into confusion and hurt, and maybe a touch of anger. “You went behind my back and tried to take my house? My business? Everything I built?”
“I’m not taking it,” I say calmly, pulling up a chair to sit down. “I’m saving it. You’ve been running on empty for months, Dad. I’m just stepping up, okay? I’m staying in town for good, buying into Cole and Son’s, but I need you to teach me how to run itright. The way you always wanted it to be.” I focus on him solely, watching every inflection of his face, the way his eyes shift in confusion and how they well up with tears.
He pushes up from the table, then leans over it. “You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? Jaxon, I don't need your help at all. I made it through the worst things?—"
“I want us to keep what’s ours,” I fire back, cutting him off. “I want my daughter to grow up knowing her grandpa still has something to be proud of. This is my home too, at least for a little while. And she needs a home to visit me and her grandpa."
The anger drains out of his face all at once at the word "grandpa". His shoulders droop and his eyes overflow. The man who used to carry me on his shoulders at job sites, who taught me how to swing a hammer before I could ride a bike, stands in front of me weeping, looking so defeated and discouraged, I think he might give up entirely.
But then he steps around the table and pulls me into a hug so tight it knocks the air out of me. His whole body shakes as the sobs start. “I’m sorry, Son. I’m so damn sorry.”
I hug him back, one hand on the back of his head. “We’re fixing it now, together.” This isn't the exact reaction I thought he'd have, but it's good. It means something between us is finally healing, that Dad has realized I'm actually manning up to help.
I may have failed in his eyes years ago, but not today. Today I am taking the helm to steer this ship in the right direction, and he's finally going to let me lead.
Dad pulls away just enough to look at me, tears running down his face. “Let’s sign right now. I’ll go to the bank today. Whatever it takes.”
