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“Hunter, aren’t you tired?” he asks, rubbing his knuckles over his chin.
I lean against the wall, staring at my shoes, my hair falling in front of my eyes.
“Tired from all the shit that went down between us. I know I can never bring your mother back,” he says. “And I should have tried to build a relationship with you when I got out.”
“Yeah you should have,” I grumble.
“In the end, Jay was the father you deserved. I was still dealing with my own shit.”
“So there wasn’t room for me in your life? Is that what you’re saying?”
He taps a cigarette pack on his wooden desk, and says, “I thought I was doing you a favor by giving you space. But, son, I needed you as much as you needed me. Your mother died, and instead of banding together, we fell apart.”
“Save the speech. And leave Mom out of it,” I rasp.
“We need to talk about her, because she is the goddamned reason you started popping pills,” he bellows.
Shrugging, I drawl, “Guess I learned from the best, huh, Dad?”
“Christ, son. I can’t change the fact I got put behind bars, and couldn’t keep you in check. But we’re both different people now,” he says.
“Really? This is your version of an apology? Fuck you,” I growl, balling my fists. “Guess who was dealing the pills for this piece-of-shit club in the first place? Dad?”
His voice is ice cold when he says, “Leave the club out of this. You know better than to piss me off. I know what I did. I owned up to it. You need to do the same. We need to put this shit behind us. If time has taught us anything it should be this.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek, exhaling hard through my nose. I can’t start hyperventilating. Not here, not with him. I can’t have a fucking temper tantrum.
“Hunter?” He steps toward me, holding up his hands, trying to calm me.
I start to sweat, and it drips down my spine. “Stay the fuck away from me. And m-my l-l-life,” I stutter, frantically scanning the room for a way to escape him, my past, the present, my future. I want to disappear like he did, like she’s going to do.
“Why did you take care of it?” I grit out.
He holds my gaze. “Because you are still part of me, and where I come from we take care of each other, blood or no blood.”
A mocking laugh escapes me. “Rich, hearing you say that,” I answer, pacing the room.
He slams his fist on his desk. “The greatest mistake I ever made was leaving you. But I did and I…”
“Your greatest mistake?” I say. “Give me a break. It was the easiest thing you ever did.”
He bites his lip, getting that thousand-yard stare in his eyes. “I can’t turn back the clock. No matter how hard I try, or try to make amends, it’s never going to be enough, is it?”
When his eyes focus on me again, I shake my head. I’m not prepared for him, for this.
“I’m sorry, son. I know whatever I say or do will not make up for the fact I was never there. I know you needed me, and I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be. ‘Messed up’ doesn’t cover the person I was, or what you became because of me.”
“I became fucked up?” Sarcasm underlies my words.
“Yes, dammit, you fucked up, but you are the strongest son of a bitch I’ve ever met, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become. I’m proud of you, Hunter.”
I can’t look at him. My eyes will probably give me away. I can’t admit how much him saying that means to me.
“I’m glad Jay took you in when you needed a home,” he says, lighting a cigarette.
“Jay said you were the one who told him about me,” I mumble.
He slowly nods. “Yeah. We went to high school together.” He blows out the smoke through his nose. “When I was in prison for a couple of years we got back in touch, and I asked him to take custody of you.”
