Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
NASH
I didn’t know how long I sat in my truck, just staring at my old man. When I’d gotten a closer look and realized it hadn’t been the person I’d been hoping for, I’d told Nat I needed to call her back, and then I’d shut off my ignition and just…waited.
There wasn’t much left to say between the two of us. I hadn’t left a whole lot of room for misinterpretation. Apparently, my old man didn’t see it that way.
Exhaling deeply, I opened my door and stepped out.
My dad stood when I stopped a couple feet from the steps. He gestured to my door at the top of the staircase. “Never been here before.”
“Nope.”
Not once in eight years. When I had told my dad I was moving out at the age of seventeen, he’d tossed me a wave over his shoulder, told me where my next job site was and when I needed to be there, and that was that.
It’d been Caroline, Rory’s mom, who’d facilitated the rental. She’d set me up with the sweet-ass deal that’d allowed me to move out so young. And then she’d made sure I’d had furniture to fill the room and food to fill my fridge. I owed more to her for how I’d turned out than I did to my own father.
“I’m—” My dad cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry about that.”
I shrugged because, really, what else could I do? I’d made peace with the fact that my dad wasn’t a good father and couldn’t be bothered with any part of my life. I had no intention of digging up that shit again.
“I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk.” The lines around his mouth were pinched, his eyes holding a weariness I couldn’t remember ever seeing.
With a sigh, I said, “C’mon up.”
After unlocking my door, I turned on the light and tossed my keys on the kitchen counter. “I’d give you the tour, but, well…” I gestured around us. “This is it.”
My dad nodded and surveyed the space like a contractor would. He took note of the exposed, vaulted ceiling. Ran his hand over the original brick along the far wall. “It’s nice.”
I shrugged. “It’s tiny, but the Millers give me a good deal in exchange for doin’ any repairs that come up.”
And…that was it. Silence cloaked us, and it was awkward as fuck. After the day I’d had, I just wanted to collapse into bed and fall asleep watching The Great British Baking Show like I’d been doing every night this week because it reminded me of Rory.
When it was clear my dad wasn’t leaving anytime soon, I asked, “You want a beer or something?”
“Sure.”
I ducked into the fridge to grab two. And then for a solid three minutes, we just stood there, breathing and drinking and not saying a damn word.
“Look, Pops, I don’t know why you’re here, but?—”
“I’m not sellin’.”
I froze with my beer halfway to my mouth, too stunned to do much of anything but blink at my old man. “You’re…what?”
“To Bozeman, I mean. I’m not sellin’ ’em King Construction.”
Breath escaped me in a whoosh, and I sagged back against the counter, too overwhelmed—not to mention shocked—to even contemplate what this meant.
“Earlier tonight… Well, I deserved every word,” he said. “I’ve been a shitty dad to you, and I’m sorry I can’t go back and change that.”
I kept the platitudes to myself, because, yeah, that was a boiled-down version of real life, and I had no intention of letting him off the hook for it.
He set his beer on the table before running a hand through his hair. “When I was growin’ up, things in my house were traditional. My old man provided, and my momma stayed home. When Annie left…well, I didn’t know how to be both for you, kid. So I was neither.”
Didn’t matter how many years had gone by since my mom left, hearing her name still hurt. It excavated all the memories I’d long since buried. The ones I’d just as soon forget.
“I checked out after that because I didn’t want to face the fact that I wasn’t enough to keep her. I’d been so lost in my grief over missin’ your momma that I never stopped to think about what her leavin’ had done to you. I was just tryin’ to get by.” He tucked a hand into his pocket and lifted a shoulder. “When Henry offered me what he did… Well, I saw a way outta here. Outta Havenbrook and the memories of your momma that I see wherever I go.”
Jesus, I couldn’t imagine dealing with that for twenty years. Everywhere I looked around town, I saw Rory, and it gutted me. And we’d been seeing each other for months. What would it do to me if we’d built a life together, had a kid together, and then she’d decided neither of us was worth staying for?
“Pops…” I said, my voice strained.
He shook his head. “I don’t want your pity. That wasn’t my intent. And I understand if you still don’t want anything to do with me. Hell, I don’t want much to do with myself. But I just wanted you to know that about the business. It’ll be passed down to you, same as it was for me. And it ain’t a ploy to get you talkin’ to me again.”
I couldn’t muster up a single word as my dad turned around and walked to the front door. He paused with his back to me, his hand on the doorknob. “I know I don’t deserve another chance after all you’ve given me. But I’ll be here just the same.”
He quietly closed the door behind him, and I could only stare, relief and gratitude and shock surging through me. Nothing could ever erase the years of frustration and neglect I’d felt at the hand of my dad, but this… Knowing my old man was staying when he’d had the chance to leave—and hearing just how much that’d cost him? Well, maybe this was the bridge we needed to make it to the other side.
I rubbed my chest, swallowing down the tightness in my throat. Without thought, I plucked my phone from my pocket and cued up Rory’s name…all before remembering the only person I wanted to share this with wasn’t all that interested in speaking to me.