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Everything.
Freezes.
I rear back, unable to look at him.
“Connor, just listen to—”
I shake my head, cutting him off, and lock my eyes on his. Ava once told me we had the same eyes—my dad and me—and I agreed even though I’d never really paid attention before. I just thought I knew him well enough to see them clearly. But now… now I look at him and… “Who the hell are you?” I grab my ball, ignore him calling after me as I leave the house and go to my truck. He stands at the porch, knowing he can’t stop me, knowing he can’t save me.
Not anymore.
* * *
It takes over an hour for me to find the turnoff to the exact parking lot I’m looking for. As soon as I get out of the car, I can hear the stream of water, and I follow the sound to the lake clearing. I’m not sure when it was exactly that I decided to come here, of all places. Having this place bring nothing but memories of Ava is probably the last thing I need, but it’s the only thing I want.
We’d both declared the day we spent here The Best Day of Our Lives, and maybe that’s why it called to me. To remind me that once upon a time, I had it all right at my fingertips. I sit at the water’s edge, my mind spinning with too many thoughts, too fast, and I can’t seem to focus on one long enough to steady my pulse.
I think about my dad, and then Ava, and all the moments that led to now, and I still can’t make sense of any of it. And then I remember how much Ava had changed in the past couple weeks. I recall her moods, how quickly she moved from angry to happy to sad to loving to devastated, and I wish I’d seen it then; that something bigger was happening. I should have picked up on it when she demanded Rhys give back the jersey I’d sold him. She was so angry and so passionate about it… because she knew how much it meant to me. How that memory with my dad was one I hold close.
I picture her sitting next to me while I tell her everything that just went down. And it feels too fucking real when I imagine her taking my arm and holding it to her as she looks out at the lake, her eyes glazed, because—I’m too fucking late to realize—my pain was hers, too. I should’ve seen that, and I should’ve told her about my mom, but instead, I chose to protect a woman who abandoned me rather than the girl I love. My eyes close when I envision Ava turning to me, her breath leaving her slowly. “He’s still your dad,” she’d tell me. “He’s still the same man who believed in your dreams more than you did, who did everything he could to make them come true. He’s still that man who held you every morning while you cried because you were so afraid he’d never come back. But he always came back for you, Connor. Always.”
I wipe the pathetic tears off my cheeks and suck in a breath. Hold it. Then I get to my feet.
Because she’s right.
He always came back.
And so I have to as well.
* * *
Dad looks up when I open my front door, but he’s not alone. There’s a man I’ve never seen before sitting next to him. Their hands are locked, fingers laced, and Dad’s quick to separate them, quick to stand. “Oh, thank God, Connor. I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.”
I can’t take my eyes off the other man. He’s stockier than Dad, with hair so dark it’s almost black. His eyes are brown, but light, like Ava’s, and when he stands, he stops a few inches short of my dad. He clears his throat, looking between Dad and me, again and again, and all I can do is stand, one foot in the door, one foot out. I want to run, but Ava’s imaginary words force me to stay. “I should go,” he says, breaking the silence.
Dad nods, and I finally find my voice. “Stay.”
The man’s eyes widen, and he glances at Dad. “I think maybe you guys should…”
I step into the house, closing the door behind me, and then approach him, my hand out. “I’m Connor.”
“Michael,” the man croaks out, taking my hand in a firm shake. “And I know who you are. Your dad talks about nothing but you.”
I nod and can’t seem to stop the movement as I peek over at Dad. He’s looking down at his feet, as if ashamed. “Dad?”
He looks up now, guilt and remorse making his lip tremble.
“This doesn’t change anything.”
Imaginary Ava was right. He’s still the same man he’s always been, and I can tell by the way his embrace soothes the ache and removes all my insecurities.
Michael stays. He sits next to Dad while Dad and I reveal all our secrets. Fifteen years’ worth of them.
I tell him about Mom. Every single detail. From the cars she gave Ava, to the All-American game, and the last meeting we had when I told both him and Ava I was in Georgia. I tell him that in a way, I lied because I was ashamed of my need to get to know her, my need for closure. He says he understands. That he has to, especially since he can’t be one to judge. But he’s pissed—not at me, but at her—for going behind his back and using their conflict to get to me.
And then he tells me about Michael.
All of it.
