Chapter Twenty-Six
Brady stepped into his pants and yanked them up. It was a shame we had to get dressed, but we had important things to take care of. If we were lucky, we’d have a lifetime of sneaking away for sex.
I buttoned my blouse and pulled my fitted suit jacket over it. Brady immediately grabbed the oversized coat and wrapped me in it.
“We’re walking across the property, not scaling Everest.”
He didn’t say anything as he reached for the zipper and enclosed me in the down.
“He kept a box of my accomplishments,” he muttered.
“What?”
He a ran hand over his hair that was a bit of a mess, thanks to my overeager tugs. “I found it the other day. Newspaper clippings, articles about the distillery, an unopened bottle of my whiskey. He told me he was proud of me.” He slipped the tie from his hair, smoothed the flyaways, and tightened the band around the thick dark mass. “He waits until he almost can’t remember who the fuck I am to tell me that.”
I stepped toward him, my arm finding the opening inside the coat and taking his hand. “How does that make you feel?”
“It pisses me the fuck off.”
He had every right to be pissed. That man made his childhood and teen years a living hell. He was never the father Brady needed or deserved. But who knows how much time he had left on this earth? How long was someone supposed to repent before they could make progress in moving forward with their lives?
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe this is your second chance to have your dad in your life.”
He closed his eyes, jaw clenching.
I ran my fingers along the stubble, smoothing the skin until he softened beneath my touch. “He was an awful person, and nothing will ever erase that, but maybe for you and not for him… the time he has left, you can try to have a relationship with him. He’s proud of you. That alone shows me he regrets his past. Shows me in his own way, he loves you.”
“He told me he doesn’t want me to forget or forgive him.”
“Then don’t.”
“But how do I have any sort of relationship with him when I can’t let go of the past?”
“Forgetting and letting go are two different things. You can let go of the past without forgetting it. You can decide to accept the things that happened and you can no longer change, and move forward with hope the future might be a little better.”
His head fell forward like my words were too heavy to process.
I cupped his cheek, running my thumb along his jaw. “If anything, do it for yourself. He might deserve to die with what ifs, but you don’t deserve to lose the chance.”
“What if—” He shook his head and tried to turn away from me, but I grabbed him, holding him in place.
“What if what?”
“What if I actually like him?”
An unladylike snort sounded in my nose as I attempted to hold back a laugh. “There are worse things.”
This time he laughed, and it felt light and carefree.
“You good?” I asked, willing to stay in the dark, cramped garage for as long as he needed.
“Yeah,” he said, a twinkle in his green eyes, a smile on his lips. “I am.” He pulled me into his chest, his lips pressing into the top of my head. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For not letting me run.”
“You can retire your running sneakers. I hate running, and we’re in this together.” I extended my hand to him, and he clasped it, tugging me into him and tossing his arm around me.
“Let’s go meet Ron.”
We walked out of the garage, and Jack jumped up, running circles around us. “I think someone is jealous.”
“He’ll get over it.”
Jack ran ahead, sitting on the porch and waiting patiently for us. “How’s the nurse hunt going?” I asked before we made it inside.
“I’ve been having a hard time with all the hoops they’re making me jump through.”
“I’ll help you.” It wasn’t a question. Not anymore. We were a team, and I would help him whenever he needed it. I waited for the fight, the pushback, but he just squeezed me tighter.
“I’d appreciate that. The sooner Ron is back in his own home, the sooner I can get my life back and have you in my bed whenever I want.”
“Mmm, I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow.”
“What about Gold Crest?” He came to a stop just outside the front door.
“It’s going to take months, but Laurent, myself, and Franc are all in. I have called into a lot of places, and I’m just waiting to hear back. Don’t worry about me. I love a challenge.”
“It’s not too much?”
“If it ever is, I’ll tell you. Okay?”
He nodded.
“But the same goes for you. If we’re going to do this, no more trying to carry everything on your shoulders. You don’t have to anymore.”
“It might take time to get used to, but okay.”
“Good.”
“You ready?” His hand lingered on the doorknob. He was stalling.
“Open the damn door, Brady.”
He pushed it open, the warm air of the fireplace meeting with the cold of the early December night. Ron sat on the couch, Fanny on his lap. The open door or the cold blast of air had both of them looking toward us. Fanny jumped up, and Brady slammed the door before the cat could take off.
She came to me, rubbing her head into my leg and dragging her body along my pants.
“Ron, this is—”
“You’re the Grasso kid.”
“I am.” I stepped forward. “But I prefer to go by Chardonnay. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Is it?”
“A couple of decades ago I’d want to wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze, but word on the street is you’re not all that bad.”
“I was.”
“People change,” I said.
Jack ran past us and into the kitchen, returning with his metal bowl in his mouth. He dropped it at Brady’s boots.
“Go,” I said to Brady.
“Are you sure?” He stared at the bowl, then at Ron, before looking at me.
I squeezed his arm. “I’m good. Go take care of Jack before he learns how to pour his own food.”
He kissed the top of my head, and I could practically feel the glare he gave Ron before patting his leg for Jack to follow him into the kitchen.
I sat on the couch beside Ron.
He leaned back and smirked. “That boy has always had a soft spot where you were concerned.”
“He merely tolerated me,” I said, thinking of my conversation with Mom and all the years we were at each other’s throats.
“That boy loved you.”
“Excuse me?”
Brady admitted to it himself, but no one knew. Not even me. Maybe Mom. But how did a man who spent most of Brady’s life drunk know?
“The way he used to defend you. He would have cut down an entire army if they misspoke about you. My mind might be going to shit, but I remember that much.”
“We lost so much time,” I admitted. He might not have known about the rift that he helped create between Brady and me, but the reality of it all was too much to keep inside.
Fanny jumped up and crawled into his lap. He scratched her under the chin, and she purred. “As someone who is losing time every day, can I offer you some advice?”
Never in my life would I accept advice from a man I despised for so long, but there was kindness in his tone, in the gentle way he pet Fanny, and her utter acceptance and affection for him.
The sound of dog food hitting the metal bowl echoed through the house. “I would love some.”
“Don’t waste any more of it. My biggest fear is I’m going to one day wake up and not remember anyone and not have said the things I should have said.”
“Brady said you told him you were proud of him. Seems to me you’re checking things off your list.”
He laughed gently. “He practically had to claw it out of me, but once it was out…” He sighed, looking relieved. “I felt lighter. Felt like maybe the time I have left, even if it’s a year, six months, a month, can be better than the seventy years that came before.”
“We can start now.” I placed my hand on top of his and smiled. It wasn’t forced, either. I genuinely hoped that however much time he had left on this earth, we could make it worth his while, and not just for him, but for Brady.
Brady walked in, concern contorting his features as his gaze took in my hand on Ron’s. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay. Ron and I were just saying how this place would look so much better if you got a Christmas tree.”
“A what now?”
“You heard me,” I said. “Time for a little Christmas spirit.”
“And not the alcohol kind,” Ron said, joining right in with my subject change.
I smiled. “This kind of spirit is better.”
“No,” Brady said with absolute authority.
“Too bad we’re a team now, and I’m using my power to override your decision.”
His eyebrows drew together. “You can’t do that.”
“Want to bet?”
“I don’t want you two to fight about it,” Ron said.
This time Brady smiled and, with his eyes locked on mine, said, “It’s kind of our thing.”