AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He stops but doesn’t turn to look at me, and I swear I’m fourteen again, just wanting my father to tell me that he loves me, that it’s not my fault my mother is dead, that I’m enough. I never got those words, and I hate myself for still wanting them over seven years later.
“I’m on break, by the way.” I move to stand in front of him so he can’t hide from me anymore. “I had my appendix taken out a while back. Did you know that? I got married too. How about that?”
He won’t look at me. He’s staring at his shoes.
“I hate you for abandoning me.” My words are quiet, but he flinches like I struck him. “I needed you, and you left me at the hospital. I deserved a lot better from you.”
My lip trembles, and my chest is tight as I stare at the man who was beaten down by life and he let it win. He wasn’t strong enough to fight to live.
“But I have to thank you.” My voice breaks. “I learned I will never give up. I’m a fighter, and no matter what life takes from me, I will keep going. Should I ever be blessed to have a child, I will spend every day of my life making sure they know I love them more than life itself. I will no longer be afraid of love because, what has that gotten you?”
The sliding glass door opens behind me, and I hear Brendon’s laugh cut off.
“Ryan, I didn’t expect you this weekend,” Grandpa says, and Brendon comes to stand behind me, his heat radiating against my back.
Dad looks between Brendon and me and nods. A tear rolls down his cheek, and it breaks my heart.
“I’m glad you’re a better man than I am.” His tone is rough, like he’s been smoking two packs a day for twenty years. Hell, it could be the truth, for all I know. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger, but every day I’m glad you had your grandparents.”
My throat burns with the warring emotions threatening to drown me.
“I’m proud of you. I hope you can believe that.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway. “I love you, son. You were always enough. It was me who wasn’t.” Then he’s gone, and I crumple to the floor.
A sob rips from my throat, and I mourn the loss of the parent that still breathes. I never let myself grieve him. Instead I wrapped my anger around me and used my fear of being him to keep people at arm’s length. Until a smart-mouthed redhead came into my life and made me fall in love with him.
Brendon pulls me against him and holds me tight as I finally let the pain out. It’s been years since I saw my dad, and I’ve never been bold enough to call him out on his shit. I was scared it would push him further away, make me harder for him to accept. But thanks to Brendon, to his unending love, I don’t need him like I used to.
“I love you,” Brendon says against my temple. “You are more than enough.”
I wrap my arms around him and let the rapid waves of sobs ease into a stream. Seymour’s cold nose touches my underarm, and I open up enough for him to burrow in between us.
“We’re a fam-damn-ily,” Brendon says, petting the pup. “No getting away from us now.”
I lift my face to his and kiss him softly. “We can’t keep chickens in our dorm room.”
“You are the sucker of fun!” he groans.
Grandma sniffles and comes over, chuckling at us.
“You were never the problem, baby.” She cups my face and kisses my forehead. “And your momma would beat that man for leaving you, but his shortcomings are not your fault. They never were.”
“Thanks for taking me in.” Another tear streaks down my cheek, and she brushes it away.
“It wasn’t ever a question, and we loved having you around.”
“Except your damn hockey gear smelled like shit,” Grandpa says, taking the basket of eggs and moving into the kitchen.
We all laugh because he’s not wrong, and it has not changed.
This right here is what family is about, and I’m so fucking lucky to have it.
Grandpa starts cooking eggs, and Grandma leaves Brendon and me to our moment.
I sit up so I can see Brendon’s face but don’t move out of his arms. “I want to get rings. I don’t care if they’re just those silicone ones for now until we can afford good ones.”
“Those come in crazy colors and shit, right? Can they do patterns? Can you have them, like, engraved or stamped or whatever?” His mind is spinning with possibilities, and I love that about him.
“I think you can get custom ones.” I shrug. “Why? What do you want on yours?”
