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“Yes, you would have,” she said immediately.
“I was wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. That I was such a first-class jerk. That I left you on your own to be responsible for him. I . . . he’s better off that it worked out this way.” The truth was not always easy to swallow.
“We’ll never know for sure.”
She walked away, leaving me alone.
Chapter Forty-Four
Drew
“I need to speak with you.”
I’d barely slept, missing a certain mouthy spitfire who could put everything in perspective, no matter how brutal. I wasn’t prepared to face my father, but I needed to put this shit to bed. I’d been carrying around this resentment too long. There wasn’t much chance of repairing the relationship with my father. I didn’t even know if I wanted that anymore. But I had to get this poison out of me. It had eaten me alive for so many years that it had nearly destroyed me. Yesterday made me realize I had a foundation to build on. It might be small and ugly and crumbling, but it was there.
“If you’re going to ask me for money or your trust fund, don’t bother,” he said, replacing the coffeepot on the burner. My father didn’t offer me a mug, didn’t really acknowledge me at all, refusing to look at me.
“I don’t want anything from you other than a few minutes of your time,” I said without inflection.
My father had on jeans. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him out of slacks and a dress shirt, other than our annual fishing expedition and maybe a casual dinner at their home. He always looked sharp, like he was one step ahead of everyone else. I’d tried to emulate that, believing if I wore a suit, I’d be successful like him. Turned out that had very little to do with it.
It felt like we were on an even playing field because I was dressed casually too. He hadn’t slept either. The lines around his eyes were deep. My mother’s illness was taking its toll on him. He actually looked old, like he’d taken about all life could throw at him. That bothered me because my father was a fighter. Seeing him defeated was just wrong.
“Let’s go to the study,” he said, still in command after all. So all the fight hadn’t gone out of him.
“After you.” I gestured with a broad sweep of my hand, following him down the hall.
Dad settled against the front of the desk instead of taking a seat in one of the chairs. It was where he felt most in control, and I conceded it to him, sitting before him. We weren’t in a power struggle. That exchange had already occurred, and neither of us came out a winner.
“What’s this about?” he asked gruffly, finally meeting my eyes. He was still pissed. I’d destroyed his company, the very thing he lived for, and kept a grandson from him.
The anger I harbored toward him felt thin, but it still burned. I wasn’t going to let it consume me any longer. I needed to get it out.
“You’ve had a favorite son for as long as I can remember, and it wasn’t me.” I paused, letting that sink in. His eyes flared as if that was the last thing he expected me to say. “I don’t blame you. Easton’s smart, driven, a decent person—everything you’d want in a son.” I shrugged as if indifferent, though I was struggling to find the words to say what I wanted to express. “It’s not that I ever doubted you loved me. It’s just. . . you loved Easton and Mulaney more.”
I sagged in my chair, surprised by what had come out of my mouth. Ididbelieve my dad loved me, just not as much as he did Easton and Mulaney. For a long time, I’d refused to acknowledge that.
He didn’t respond, so I kept going. “One thing that you taught by example is that when you find your passion, you put everything into it. I know it’s dead and buried, that I should be over it after all this time, but baseball was that passion for me. When that ended, you acted like it had been a hobby. Somenothing, a little boy’s game you expected me to grow out of.”
“I went to every game you ever played,” he protested, turning red. “All the way from Little League. I never missed one. Not. One.”
“I know,” I conceded, slumping farther into the chair.
“So I thought it was ridiculous, huh? So much so that I supported you your entire career.” His jaw worked. “Who do you think taught you to play? Who bought you your first bat and ball? You swung a piece of wood before you took your first step. Took it right out of my hands, and I was thrilled because I’d be able to play ball with my boys.” He got louder with every sentence.
My mother had said I was born to play, but I’d never heard what my father was telling me. “When I played the game, it was the one time I thought you might be more proud of me than you were of Easton. I know it wasn’t a competition, but I was better.” This was so difficult to get out. “That was why I worked so hard to be the best. I wanted you to be proud of me.” I looked at him, feeling like a child. What I saw in his eyes caused my chest to tighten.
“I would have been proud of you, even if you’d been the worst.”
What?Those were the words I’d wanted to hear all my life. They felt good as they wound around what was left of my soul. They were astounding and . . .healing.
I took a second to gather myself before I spoke again. “When I was injured, it killed me. I loved the game, and I lost it. I loved Erin, and I lost her. When there were no more games for you to come to, I-I lost you. The thing we had in common was gone. But you were happy because then I could work for Carter Energy,” I accused, the bitterness I’d been fighting rising to the surface.
He leaned forward, gripping my shoulders. His eyes misted over. “When you were lying on that dirt, I died,” he choked out. “You have no idea what it’s like to see your son unmoving, then waiting at the hospital during surgery. When the doctors said you’d never play again, I was devastated. Not for me, but for you.”
He looked toward the unlit fireplace, collecting his thoughts. “I didn’t know how to handle it.” His face contorted in shame at the admission. “I thought if I focused on the negative, it would be worse on you, so I steered you toward Carter Energy in hopes it would give you something else to dwell on. Of course, I wanted you and Easton working with me. What father wouldn’t want his sons beside him, building a company?” He took a breath. “But the only reason I drove you toward the business was to take your mind off what you’d lost. I see now that may have been the wrong thing to do.” His eyes pleaded with me to believe him.
“Then why did you and Easton and Mulaney blow off my ideas? Hell, you like her better than me.”
