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Sky
The roar of his motorcycle echoes through my chest when he drives off, the sound softly fading in the distance.
“Why do you think I came here, Jay? Because you made it perfectly clear I needed to make the first step. Why didn’t you have the guts to come to New York and see me?”
“You want to know, kid?” he asks.
“Yes, I do,” I state.
“Fuck,” he swears, running a hand though his long hair, putting his baseball cap on backwards. “My life was this uphill battle I needed to climb. I needed to lose myself to find myself. I know how corny it sounds but it’s the truth. After your mom left, I went on living my life like I used to. Drinking, doing drugs, doing women. I never knew what shit I was going to pull next or where I might end up.”
He clears his throat, and runs a hand over his beard. “I won the championship in California that same year. I was celebrating, and I drove home drunk from the bar and crashed my truck into a damn tree. My legs were pinned; I was there for hours. It wasn’t until early morning an off-duty firefighter spotted the car on the side of the road, and I was unconscious when he pulled me out. My knee and ankle were shot. To make this even more of a cliché, I got addicted to painkillers. I could never ride again. I thought my life was over, but it was only beginning.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know.”
“It was actually a damn blessing in disguise. You were too young to notice, and it took everything in my power to convince your mom to let you stay during the summers. With everything I had already put you both through, with the drugs, I didn’t blame her for not trusting me. I promised Chelsea I wasn’t using hard drugs anymore, and would never put you at risk. Never again. You remember how I was living back then in those two trailers, before I built the house?”
“I always thought something was wrong but I was afraid to ask,” I tell him.
“I tried to beat it but every time you left I relapsed.”
“So it was my fault?” I ask, raising my voice. Fuck him for blaming me for his own shit.
“No, it wasn’t your fault. I took you leaving as a reason to start using again. When Mac contacted me and moved onto the property, he took me to meetings. He was volunteering at the prison not far from here, and asked me to come along. That’s where I met Hunter’s dad, who was still doing time back then. We’d gone to high school together, and he told me about Hunter’s problems and asked me to take custody of him. I signed the papers the year you stopped coming around. He was a screwed up, angry kid, but I knew he used to ride BMX. I’d seen him riding, and he blew me away. He didn’t want anything to do with me back then because he thought I was some kind of asshole who wanted him or the drugs he was slinging. The streets, his father and uncle not looking out for him, screwed with his head; he thought everyone had an angle or was out to take advantage of him. I wanted him to follow the dreams I couldn’t finish. My dreams became his in the end, and my demons became his as well. Fuck, the irony,” he mutters.
“He told me he’s been going to NA,” I say, staring at my hands. “He didn’t tell me much about his father, only that he never sees him.”
“He must really trust you, baby—he never talks about himself, he learned that from my sorry ass. When the judge granted me custody I helped Hunter stay on the straight and narrow, and he did because he found his outlet in riding and competing. I guess that’s why he never visits Oliver—because his father reminds him of a time in his life he wants to forget. I guess the reason why I didn’t come to New York, or what I tried to convince myself, is because I was ashamed, but also because I didn’t want to leave Hunt and Drew when they needed me. I knew you had a good life with your mom in the city, I didn’t want to mess up your life…not again.”
I glance up at my father, he looks so heartbroken.
“I needed you too, Jay, and I’m sorry I never came around the last five years,” my voice cracking.
“Kid, come here, I’m so sorry, for everything,” he says, giving me a hug and letting go after a minute. “Sometimes the ones you care about are also the people you hurt the most.”
“I don’t want Hunter to care about me,” I whisper.
He caresses my cheek. “Why, honey?”
When I lock eyes with him, he’s crying. He holds my stare, brushing his hands over his face.
“I don’t want to break his heart, like mine was broken before I came back here.” I let out a slow breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he says after a while, resting his hands on his knees.
“Jay …” I shake my head. “You don’t need to say anything.”
“But I want to.” His voice is strained as he kneels before me, clutching my wrists. “I’m so, so sorry,” he sobs.
“Jay, it’s okay,” I promise, laying both my hands on his shoulders.
“It’s not, but I’m glad you’re here,” he tells me, his face wet from his tears. “I’m grateful,” he chokes out.
I take his hands in mine. “Me too.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Brushing the tears from his eyes, he says, “I…I didn’t know how to talk to you.”
“Dad, it’s okay, I didn’t either,” I tell him, trying to be strong.
