Chapter Thirty-Three
Quinton sat in his office staring at his cell phone on his desk. He took a long breath and thought about what he was doing. He hadn’t talked any more to his parents about their revelation. They were still at his place; he ate breakfast with them, came home after football practice for dinner, then worked on grading tests and homework before going to bed and starting over. They didn’t push him to talk either. That was how they were in his family. Nosey and intrusive as hell until it was something heavy. Even his sister was giving him space to process, which he appreciated. He needed to process everything they’d said.
That and he needed answers. Answers to something that bothered him almost more than discovering the truth about his dad.
With a sigh, he picked up his cell phone with one hand and the business card with Khris’s number with the other. He dialed the number before he would change his mind again.
He answered on the third ring. “Khris speaking.”
“It’s Quinton.”
There was a moment of silence before Khris spoke. “You got the entire story?”
“My mom told me that you’re my half brother.” He didn’t bother beating around the bush. He wanted to get to the point of this discussion as soon as possible.
“I am.”
“And you knew that when we were in school?”
“I found out in middle school.”
“How? Did your dad tell you?”
“Our dad—”
“Your dad,” Quinton cut in. He didn’t care what DNA said; that man was not his father.
Khris hesitated a second before continuing. “My dad got drunk one night. I was telling him that you were trying out for the middle school team. That you were good. He got mad. Told me I was better. Then told me that I had to always be better than my bastard of a brother. I didn’t really believe you were my brother. But the more he pushed me to be better than you, and he said it a few more times, the more I realized you really were his kid.”
“He made you hate me?” Quinton asked. Confused and frustrated to know that a grown man was ultimately responsible for Quinton’s teenage trauma.
“He made me resent everything about you. You didn’t have what I had. Your family struggled. But you thrived. People liked me because my dad paid for their respect. People liked you because they respected you. The resentment he put in me turned into something else. It turned into my own hate.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Quinton asked.
“Because, when the Best Small Town application came by, and I saw that you were the football coach, I finally asked my dad if it was true. He said it was. Then he laughed about you falling from glory to become a coach of some rural football program. I wanted to see you. You’re nothing like what he said. You’re still getting respect. You’ve turned that damn team around. Hell, you even have a daughter who’s kicking ass on the football field. I remembered how much I hated you just for existing. How he wanted me to hate you.”
“Hate me enough to break my leg.”
“Yeah...that was really fucked up on my part.” Regret filled Khris’s voice.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because he beat up on me the night before,” Khris answered bluntly. “You were going to get recruited, I wasn’t. I took it out on you. I was wrong for that.”
“Yes, you were.”
A pause before Khris answered. “I know we won’t ever be brothers. Not for real, but I also didn’t want to continue pretending like I didn’t know. I wanted you to know.”
“Why? So I’ll second-guess my upbringing and my dad?”
“Nah, your dad loves you.” Khris answered as if that thought never crossed his mind. “You don’t know it, but he came to my dad after I broke your leg. I don’t know what happened in that room, but I’ve never seen my dad that shaken before. He didn’t say a word about you for the rest of the year or through college.”
“My dad came to your dad?”
“He did. You got the better dad, Quinton. Never forget that.”
When Quinton got home that night, he was surprised to find Willie sitting in the kitchen eating a piece of cake. He’d deliberately stayed out later than normal, hoping to avoid his parents and any awkward conversation.
“What are you doing up?” Quinton asked.
“Waiting on you. Shouldn’t you be home early? You’ve got an important game coming up this weekend.”
Quinton waved off his dad’s words. “I’ll be fine. I’m going up to bed.”
“Quinton, wait.”
Quinton stopped at the door of the kitchen and sighed. He turned, lifted his chin and faced his dad. “Sir?”
“You can’t ignore me forever.”
“I’m not ignoring you.” He just didn’t know what to say right now.
“Then what do you call it?”
“Processing.”
His dad scowled. “What the hell is processing?”
Quinton hated it, but he wanted to smile at the ornery look on Willie’s face. “What do you want me to call it? Trying to get my anger and frustration under control so that I don’t say something to you or Mom that I might regret later.”
His dad waved his hand as if urging him to come back. “Go ahead and say it. No need to hold back.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Just say it, Quinton,” Willie said firmly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m a grown man. I can handle whatever it is you want to say.”
Quinton eyed his dad and then crossed his arms. “I should have known. You all lied to me for years.”
Willie flinched but didn’t look away. “We did what we thought was best.”
“Best for who? Was it better for me to hear this shit from Khris? From the guy who made my life hell for years?”
His dad’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t think his dad would ever admit it.”
“That doesn’t make it better.” Quinton turned to leave. The anger at them keeping this from him for so long bubbling like acid in his midsection.
“I didn’t want you to leave.”
Quinton turned around. “What?”
Willie glanced away before dragging his gaze back. “I thought that if you knew he was your dad, you’d wish you had something better.”
Quinton came back into the kitchen. “Why would I do that?” He never would have chosen Mr. Simmons over Willie.
“Because kids don’t always appreciate what they have. I heard you one day wishing that we had something better to eat. You mumbled something about betting Khris had better for dinner.”
“When did I say that?”
“It was so long ago you probably don’t even remember, but you said it. That hit me like a knife through the heart. I loved you from the moment you were born. I never once thought of you as anything other than my child, but that day, I worried that if you knew the truth, you’d turn your back on me and try to be more like him. That man didn’t want you then. He would have made your life a living hell or worse, used you to get back at your mom and play with your emotions.”
“I never would have chosen him over you. Do you think I didn’t see how much you sacrificed for me and Dawn? You’re my dad. Always have been and always will be. You should have trusted me with the truth.”
Willie’s chin wobbled before he nodded stiffly. “Maybe I should have.”
“No maybe.” They were silent for a second when Quinton scoffed and shook his head.
“What?”
“I called Khris today. To see if he knew. Which of course he did. He admitted that was why he treated me the way he did. Said his dad was horrible to him and planted the hate he felt for me.”
Willie let out a heavy breath. “I believe it. That man was horrible.”
“Khris admitted the same. He said I had the better father. The thing is, he didn’t have to tell me that. I already know I have the better father. I knew back then that you were the better man. I just wish you would have told me.”
“What are you going to do now that you do know?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m not trying to build a relationship with anyone over there. You’re my dad.” He was angry and upset they’d lied, but he knew that with every part of his being.
His dad let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
Quinton held up a hand. “But it’s going to take me a minute to get over the fact that you and Mom lied to me. For so long. I need you to respect that.”
Willie nodded. “We will.”
“And respect what I’m trying to do with my own family. You’ve got to take the car back. Let me and Halle figure out the best things for Shania.”
“But—”
“No buts. You tried to do what you thought was best for me back then and it backfired. Trust me to know what’s best for me now.”
His dad met his eyes and after a few seconds he nodded. “I trust you, son.”