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36
Jax
I was tempted to keep walking, but I wasn’t going to let him be the bigger person. Not this time. I turned.
He looked old. Now that I could see him up close, I saw gray hairs dominated his temples. There were more wrinkles on his face than I would expect for a man his age. His shoulders were more stooped, and if I hadn’t known him, I would have thought he was a man close to twenty years his senior.
We stood just staring at each other. Gene was the first to break the ice.
He stepped to the aisle. " I wish Alan hadn’t made such a mess of things. His heart was in the right place. He was just trying to do something to help me out after…well, it doesn’t matter. It was never my intention to hurt you, Jax. And it wasn't Grace’s either."
"I wish a lot of things were different, too. But 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.'”
“True. But not everything is always as black and white as we’d like to make them out to be either.”
“Feels pretty black and white to me. Every time you come into my life I get screwed. Literally and figuratively.”
He paled.
Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t have anything to say about that!
“Grace is really upset. Please talk to her. Don’t let your issues with me get in the way of a good thing with her.”
I took a step closer. “Stay out of it, Gene. Who are you to give advice anyway?”
“Fair enough. I guess this has been a long time coming.”
I gla
red at him, but he didn’t flinch. “I’d have rather it not come at all. How long have you lived here? Does my mother know? Where’s Mallory? She’s not here, too, is she?”
Gene handled my rapid fire with amazing calm as if he’d anticipated my questions. It only worked to piss me off further. I stood and began to pace the small space behind me. I’d had years to think of the questions I wanted to ask him, the threats I wanted to throw at him. But I hadn’t ever figured I’d get answers; hadn’t had time to assimilate that by some chance of fucking fate that I’d be here.
“I’ve been here for about five years. I didn’t know at first, of course, but after a couple of years, I knew you’d moved here also because your name has become practically synonymous with the revitalization effort. Passion is big enough that there’s been no reason for our paths to cross. Until now. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it did.”
“You’re sorry?” I threw my hands in the air. “You have a lot to be fucking sorry about, don’t you? That’s all that exists between us, but ‘I’m sorry” doesn’t come close to fixing this.”
His eyes filled with remorse. “No, it doesn’t.” His lack of excuses cooled some of my anger.
“Does my mother know?”
“She asked me not to contact her. Out of respect for her, I haven’t. So, no, I don’t think she does.”
“Respect?” I sneered and turned my back.
“Whatever else you believe, I did love your mother. I couldn’t repair the damage, so I did the only thing I could. I moved away and tried to rebuild my life. Our lives.”
“And Mallory?” I spoke over my shoulder. “What happened to her? My mother kept your secret, so your daughter wouldn’t lose both of her parents, but sometimes I wonder if that was a mistake.”
He flinched. Good.
I’d hoped that would be a conversation ender, but no, he seemed determined to talk. “I found an inpatient program in the Midwest that had a good reputation. It was difficult being separated, but I knew it was for the best.”
“And afterward?” I pressed. I’m not sure why I cared; I think I hoped some kind of justice had prevailed.
“Things were good for a while. But after a couple of years, she spiraled downward. I don’t think she ever got over what happened. She got caught up in some group, became addicted to drugs, and every effort I made to reach her and get her help failed. She was an adult by then, so I had fewer resources. But I never quit trying.”
He blinked rapidly. “One day I got a call from the police. She was dead from an overdose.” His voice choked. “I had to go to the mortuary to identify her. I almost didn’t recognize her—my beautiful baby girl. I’d failed to protect her, over and over again.”
