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I start in the closet and grab whatever clothes I hadn’t already packed.
We’re about done when Dad barges inside my room.
“What the hell are you doing?” He slurs his words as his gaze ping-pongs between Marty and me.
“Packing.”
“You think you’re leaving?”
I turn to face him. “Why would I stay?” It’s a fair question, but one that makes his face deepen in color.
“Listen, you ungrateful—”
“Don’t finish that thought,” I warn before taking the piece of paper out of my back pocket and tossing it to him.”
“What the hell is this?” His question comes out more like a growl. It’s a tone I’ve heard most of my life. I’ll be so happy not to listen to it ever again.
“In case your paternal instincts were ever in question, we’re a match.”
His eyes scan the document and then flick up to meet mine. A shocked expression squishes his face. He must have actually thought I wasn’t his.
“That’s right. I’m yours. But since you never wanted me as a son, you’re getting your wish. We’re through. I’m no longer your responsibility.” As if he ever did anything to claim responsibility other than claiming me on his tax form. I look at Marty and nudge my chin to the door. He picks up my cue, stacks his box on top of a full one, and picks them up.
“Now wait one goddamn minute.”
“No, I’m done waiting. Me and you”—I wave my hand between us—“are officially done. Hopefully, Steve makes parole and can help you out, but the results never mattered as far as I’m concerned. It makes zero difference going forward. Coming back was never the plan.”
I pick up my box and shoulder past him with Marty on my tail. We make it to his car and shove my pathetic life belongings in his vehicle. How can an entire twenty-one years of existence fit into three boxes?
“You good?”
“I’m good.” Or else I will be. Maybe someday, my old man and I can mend what he broke. Maybe not. Right now, I don’t care because I refuse to let his actions define who I am. Those days are over. I found my family back in California.No regrets, no remorse.
Chapter Forty-Six
DALTON
Ten Months Later
I’m notsure who’s more nervous, Coach or me. Cassie and I sit on her couch and watch in awe as her dad directs his buddies where to place the television. Yes, I said television. I guess Coach bends the rules when there’s a baseball draft to watch.
Okay, so I lied. I know who is more nervous. It’s me by a long shot, but it has nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with this woman sitting beside me. I pat my pocket for reassurance and try not to dwell on circumstances I can’t control. The draft is a three-day process, with round one televised. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it’s about impossible when Coach goes out of his way, not to mention his beliefs, to host a televised party. Even Coach Callahan flew in earlier to join us.
“Dude, you’re like ranked number ten on MLB.com’s prospect ranking, according to Wikipedia,” Nicole says.
Oh, yeah. There’s that too. It’s pretty hard not to get my hopes up. I had another phenomenal year at Cessna University. Unfortunately, our year came to a close at the regional rounds. It was a rebuilding year, and the loss of power from Braxton and Noah stung. Carter filled Garret’s shoes nicely.
I look forward to seeing where the team goes next year.
Cassie graduated on time. She is currently employed at a nearby hospital, working as a registered nurse license pending. She constantly studies for her national exam, which takes place in July. She had gone to the library a few days ago, creating a perfect opportunity to talk to her dad.
“Sir, I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I want to ask your daughter to live with me. But I don’t want her living in sin.” It took everything in my power to make that statement, but I knew that was what Coach believed. I could respect his opinion. “That’s why I’m asking permission for her hand in marriage.”
He did his thing where he analyzed the situation—face stoic, mind assessing. “You know you’re not the person I envisioned for my daughter.”
“I realize that, sir. I—”
He held his hand up to stop me. “I had pictured my girl attending my church, raising a family, working at church functions.”
