AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Farrow faces my dad head-on. “And?”
“You were teenagers.”
“Okay, but what does that change? I told you that he has no bad bone in his body. I told you that he’d give you the last shirt he owns. Right off his back. Shit, I told you he’s been kind towards the women he’s been with, and he would let Luna rule his world if she wanted to. I told you he’d be there for her. I told you they’d be good together. So what the hell does us meeting as teenagers have to do with shit?”
“I wish I knew what he meant to you from you or even him. Not from Luna. Not from Moffy. Instead, you just kept telling me who he is.”
Farrow keeps shaking his head.
“You left out an important part.”
Farrow breathes angrier, shaking his head harder. “I didn’t.”
“You forgot to tell me he’s like your brother.”
It knocks Farrow one step backward. He rotates his head away from my dad.
“That’s the thing, Farrow. I had no goddamn idea the depth of how close you were to him. I didn’t know what he meant to you.” My dad cringes into a wincing smile. “And that’s the other thing, I should’ve known. It was right there in my face.” Guilt knits his brows. “He was your best man, but for some goddamn reason, I thought you were just college buddies. Crossed paths later and decided to become bodyguards around the same time. But you aren’t just college friends. Right?”
Farrow takes the longest second to recoup from this bombshell. I haven’t seen him this frazzled before. Not much ever seems to unsettle him.
My dad crushes the silence first. “I learned that he followed you to Yale when he was a teenager. I did some digging after that nonchalant comment from Paul, and I learned from ‘sources’ that he stayed with you for most of your adult life. I learned that you do know him better than anyone else on this fucked planet, so you can stop acting like you don’t.”
Farrow’s eyes are reddened as they meet my dad again. “It shouldn’t have mattered. I gave you enough.”
“I didn’t know how deeply you knew him. So when you vouched for him, I would’ve liked to know it was coming from the closest thing he has to a fucking brother.”
Farrow looks tortured. He combs a rough hand through his hair.
Dad sees. He blinks a lot, like he’s reassessing what he’s saying to Maximoff’s husband. “I’m not trying to blame you, Farrow. I should’ve asked more questions. I should’ve realized sooner. I’m not saying you’re at fault—”
“You’re saying it would’ve made a difference,” Farrow says through clenched teeth. “I don’t advertise my relationships like they’re commercials on a fucking TV screen for other people to consume. They just exist. They are.”
“I guess I missed it,” my dad says, bitterness to his words. “Maybe I didn’t even want to see it. Maybe I was afraid of what it’d mean. You and him. He’d be inescapable.” Skin pleats between his cinched brows. “It would’ve been easier to be slapped in the face with the truth. But that never happened.” My dad shrugs at Farrow. “Why do you both undercut what you are to each other? You more than him? I don’t get it. Honestly. What’s the point?”
“We don’t undercut shit,” Farrow says quietly, almost under his breath. “We know what we mean to each other, and that’s all that’s ever mattered. This is the first time it’s ever been a point of contention with anyone.”
“I would’ve liked to know,” my dad says just as quietly. “It would’ve meant something to me.”
“We didn’t grow up together,” Farrow reminds him.
“Neither did me and my brother. I met Ryke the day I turned twenty-one.”
Realizations wash over me about the same time that Farrow’s expression changes shape. I think we’re both understanding just how much this would’ve meant something to my dad. He loves Ryke to his deepest, rawest core, and I wonder if he’s reevaluated everything Farrow has ever said about Donnelly.
I wonder if that’s ultimately a big reason why his heart has shifted.
I imagine he’s thinking if Farrow has seen good in Donnelly for years, if Farrow loves Donnelly to his deepest, rawest core, then maybe Donnelly isn’t a bad influence or a bad guy. Maybe he’s a man worthy enough to be with his daughter.
To be with me.
I don’t even care that it might’ve taken Farrow to change my dad’s perspective.
I don’t care that it wasn’t me who could’ve done it.
I’m just glad it’s happening.
It’s shifting.
Hope glimmers, and I wonder if Donnelly saw this tiny spark before he left the house. I wonder if this is partly what he was trying to leave me with too.
My dad holds Farrow’s gaze. “Christ, you were younger than even me and my brother when you two met.”
