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“And you’re back tonight.” It’s half question, half statement.
“I’m back as soon as I meet my nephew. If he takes after his uncle”—I point at myself—“and is fast, then definitely. If he’s slow, it might be tomorrow.”
She grabs a sticky notepad and scrawls across it. “This is my number. Keep me posted.”
“Aw… You gave me your number.” I give her a wink. “If I weren’t taken, I’d slide into your texts.”
“Shut up.”
The door slides open and in walks Pop. “Now, that man, on the other hand…”
“Ew.” I turn and walk to my father and wrap him in a big hug. He slaps my back but only after pulling me a little tighter than usual. “Hey, Pop.”
I toss a look over my shoulder at the rehab manager and hold the sticky up between my index and middle finger, before stuffing it into my pocket.
“You look good, son. I expected the beard.” He gestures to my face.
“You say that like it was its own person.”
He shrugs and moves behind me to the passenger door, acting nonchalant, but I know better. He’s an extra hand or two if I need it. I’ve been working with Sarah and I have a plan for this. Right hand on the oh-shit handle. Right leg on the step and push with all my might up. My weaker leg swings right where it needs to go. It’s not graceful, but it works.
“Atta boy.”
Pop closes the door for me and rounds the hood, slipping into the truck with ease.
We exchange pleasantries until we’re almost at the hospital.
“You surprised the fuck out of me checking yourself into rehab. I was pissed and I was proud. But if I’m honest, the hardest part was the shame.”
Fuck me. How did I do him wrong in this situation?
“How did I not know? How did I not see you were struggling so much? I beat myself up. How did I miss my son needing my help? I’m sorry I failed you, Layton. I’m sorry you needed me and I was so… whatever, that I couldn’t be there for you.”
What?
“Will you forgive me?”
“Pop, there’s nothing to forgive. Not this direction anyway.” I move my finger from the driver’s seat toward my body. “I didn’t ask for help. How could you have known?” I stare out the windshield and gather my nerve. “I don’t want to get too deep into it, but I lost my last piece of Mom in that wreck.”
His head whips to mine, and his eyebrows draw together. The questioning look on his face shows the confusion he must be feeling.
“Did she ever tell you about her texts to me?”
“Nothing more than she called and texted each of you all the time.”
“Well, she sent me a lot. Ones that were priceless to me. It’s why I kept that old nicked-up phone for so long. It was melted in the wreckage.” I swallow thickly. “I lost her again at that moment, and it was more than I could handle. The broken body. The wrecked career. Losing her a second time. Anyway, like I said, I didn’t ask for help. None of those things could be fixed anyway, so…”
“Livy said something to me—hell, it might’ve been her first day on the ranch—that she assumed you were my carbon copy. That maybe we butted heads because we were alike, not because we were so different.”
“Ha.”
“I walked away from that conversation and was accosted by a similar one I had with your mother. You might’ve been ten or eleven. We’d argued over something, probably because you were a teenager and acting like one. And Emilia reamed my ass over something I said or did to you. She told me I was less patient with you because you were me, only shorter.”
I jerk my chin back and turn to my dad.
“I’ve always been hard on you. Not intentionally. Certainly not maliciously.” He throws the gear shift in park outside the hospital. “But you always hit a nerve about things I didn’t like in myself. Livy was right, and so was Emilia. Only you’re not shorter anymore. Now, I’d love to continue this, but my grandson is being born. You game to go welcome him into the world?”
“Absolutely.” The dismount from the truck isn’t nearly as smooth, but I leaned into my strong side and leveraged where I could play to my strengths. It wasn’t graceful, but it didn’t hurt.
