Chapter 37 #2
“Vox, we both know Grey knows something’s up.
My guess is he doesn’t want to make a scene and risk pissing you off this close to the event, and that’s the only reason he hasn’t sent me packing.
Even still, waving it in his face isn’t a good idea, and I’m willing to bet he’s got security keeping an eye on my place now as well. ”
“This is so fucking stupid!” I yell in frustration.
“Just a couple more days, baby,” Connor soothes. “For now, let’s concentrate on this meeting with your dad, okay? Do you want to take your Jeep or the Volvo?”
“Let’s take the Jeep. I think having something to do with my hands will be helpful.” Plus, the Jeep is loud as fuck, and maybe the road noise will help keep my thoughts in check.
“Pick me up out front of the condos where you found me in the snow,” Connor says before adding, “It’s going to be okay.”
By the time we park at the bar in Rainersville, I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up. Gone is the arrogant boarder, usually so comfortable in his own skin. In his place is a cowering child, desperate for the approval of a parent he doesn’t know.
“Connor, I…” I trail off, not knowing what to say. I have to do this. We just drove an hour to get here, and if I don’t go in, I’ll forever wonder what could have happened.
Connor twists in his seat to look at me, drawing my eyes to him.
“You can do this, but if you decide you’re not ready, we’ll turn around right now and try again later.”
By giving me a supportive out, he strengthens my resolve, and I pull myself together.
“No, it’s fine. I want to do this,” I confirm.
“What role do you want me to play?” Connor asks, confusing me for a second until he brings our clasped hands in front of my face.
Oh.
“I want you to be exactly who you are,” I tell him. “My boyfriend and my coach. I’m done hiding.”
Connor kisses my knuckles and lets go of my hand to reach for his door handle. “
“Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
My dad is already seated when we walk through the doors. I see him before he sees me, and my feet stop moving. Connor walks right into my back. He throws his hands around my waist to steady me. “Sorry. You okay?”
“My dad’s sitting right there,” I tell him stupidly. “Like he hasn’t been gone from my life for almost twenty years.” I’m shocked to discover that it’s sadness I feel more than anger, bitterness, or resentment.
As soon as my dad sees us, he stands from the booth and goes stock still, just like me.
“Come on, baby,” Connor whispers in my ear. “I’m right here with you, and if it becomes too much, we’ll leave, no questions asked.”
I grip his hand tightly and let him lead me to the corner booth. The bar isn’t crowded at this time of day.
Still holding my right hand in his left, Connor extends his right hand toward my father.
“Turner, thanks for meeting us way out here,” he says, like the mature adult he is.
My dad reluctantly tears his gaze away from me to shake my boyfriend’s hand. His eyes briefly dip to where Connor’s other hand is holding mine, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Thank you for coming,” he says to Connor before looking back at me with a nervous furrow to his brow. “I’d um, really like to give you a hug, if you’re okay with it?”
The request catches me off guard.
“Oh, uh, sure,” I stammer a millisecond before his arms engulf me, forcing me to drop Connor’s hand. My dad is roughly the same height as me, with a similar lean frame. He has his hair pulled back in a messy man-bun. He moves his hand to the back of my neck as he sobs against me.
I’m wary of his motives, but also, this reaction feels pretty damn real.
I allow myself to hug him back, and his arms grip me tighter when I do.
Finally getting himself under control, he steps back and slides into the booth, using his napkin to wipe his eyes.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry, but you have no idea how long I’ve been dying for that hug,” he says.
Our waitress comes to the table and takes our drink order. My dad chooses water, Connor orders a beer, and I go straight for a gin and tonic. No one says shit to me about ordering liquor in the middle of the day.
Unsure where to start, I blurt, “Where the hell have you been? And why are you here now?”
Blowing out a slow exhale, my dad starts his story while I quickly drain the drink placed in front of me a few minutes later, immediately asking for another.
“First, I just want to say I’m so fucking sorry for leaving, Vox.
I admit I was never meant to be a father.
When you were born, I was scared out of my fucking mind, but I was confident that between your mother and me, we could figure it out.
Until one day, she told me she got a modeling job she wanted to take and needed to be gone for two weeks.
I didn’t want to hold her back from her career, so I told her to go; you and I would be fine.
Well, the check-in calls slowed to a stop, and by the time two weeks came and went, I knew she wasn’t coming back.
Overwhelmed, I tried to keep my head above water, but I didn’t have the slightest clue what I was doing.
The winter that year was especially brutal.
The sun didn’t shine for eight solid weeks, and I felt myself spiraling.
I asked my mother if she could watch you.
I just needed to see the sun. I went surfing in California.
Met some people. And stayed. I’ve regretted it every day since, but I couldn’t have given you a life worth living back then. I was barely surviving myself.”
Connor squeezes my thigh under the table as my dad continues.
“But the guilt ate away at me, and I worked hard to make something of myself so that when I returned, I’d have something I was proud of to show for my time away. Something that hopefully you would be proud of as well. Something to make myself believe it had all been worth it.”
“And did you?” I ask. “Create something that made abandoning me worth it?”
My dad flinches. Perhaps my tone is harsher than necessary, but fuck it, I’m not holding back. This is years of abandonment issues that I’m going to make sure he gets all the credit for.
“I’ve built something, yes. Was it worth leaving you behind?
Of course not, Vox. And I’m so fucking sorry.
You’ll never know how sorry I am. The only excuse I have is that I was a twenty-year-old kid myself, and I fucked a lot of shit up.
If I could go back, I’d have packed you up, and we’d have followed your mom.
But I wasn’t the man then that I am now. ”
“Where is my mother?” I ask impatiently.
“I wish I knew. I had hoped she’d reached out and found you on her own.”
I shake my head. “Haven’t heard a word.” My dad’s lip quivers as he deals with the loss all over again, and I change the subject. “Tell me about Grey.”
“I came back to try to visit with you once when you were about twelve. My mother and I were still in contact then, and she told me you had just signed with Patterson about six months prior. I was so fucking proud of you. She also told me that unless I planned to stick around this time, I shouldn’t bother coming back at all because it would only hurt you worse when I left again.
My company was just getting off the ground, and I knew I couldn’t stay, so I took her advice, and I didn’t come.
“Not until my mother died, at least. You were eighteen then and didn’t need a parent the same way you did when you were six.
I thought maybe I’d do a better job since keeping you alive was no longer part of the gig.
I had convinced myself that maybe we could start again as friends since I had fucked the whole dad thing up pretty badly.
But when I tried to talk to you after the funeral, you were whisked away before I could reach you.
” His nostrils flare, and his jaw clenches in anger the longer he talks.
“It was easy enough to find you on social media, but it didn’t take long for me to realize your accounts were being managed by someone else.
Every account I made and messaged from was blocked before the message had even been read.
I’ve been at almost every professional boarding event you’ve competed in, and every time I try to get a message to you, some fucking Patterson goon blocks my access. ”
“Why would he do that?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“You’ve made Grey Patterson a very rich man, Vox. Richer than you probably know. My best guess is he saw me as a threat. Like perhaps if we rekindled our relationship, you’d choose to come with me and abandon Patterson Performance.”
“You think it was just about money? It couldn’t possibly be that he didn’t trust you not to hurt me?” I fire.
“That’s probably part of it, but shouldn’t that have been for you to decide?
What kind of person keeps a man from his own son, especially after that son is an adult capable of making his own decisions?
If you had told me that you hated my guts and never wanted to see me again, I would’ve understood.
I would’ve left you alone. But Grey never gave you your options.
He made the choice for both of us by refusing to tell you I was trying.
I’m not perfect, Vox. I deserve your rage, but I’m begging for a chance at redemption. ”
When my dad stops talking to wait for my reply, I twirl my near-empty glass in my hands. Fuck, I’m terrible at processing, but I suppose he has a point. I would have liked to have known my dad had come back.
A thought occurs to me, and suddenly I’m pissed. Like really fucking pissed.
What if my dad hadn’t run into Connor? What if he had stopped trying to get to me, and I’d spent another twenty years thinking he didn’t care?
What if I’d retired, taken a job with Patterson, and never known that Grey had isolated me like this?
Had he stopped my mom from gaining access to me as well?
As if thinking those things summoned the devil himself, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Grey.
I place the phone on the table so everyone can see the name.
“Do I answer it?”
“That’s totally up to you,” my dad says. “It’s time your ball was in your court.”
I swipe the phone to answer, putting it on speakerphone, letting my anger and confusion make the choice for me.
“Hello?”
“What the hell are you doing in Rainersville, Vox? You’re supposed to be resting. Interestingly, I can’t find Coach Lang either. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
Immediately, I wonder how I’ve missed Grey’s condescending tone all this time. Has it always been like this? His tone is so fucking accusatory, like he actually thinks he owns me. Like I’m still that little kid he found that needed him to call all the shots.
I guess until Connor, I was.
But not anymore.
I make eye contact with my dad first, who nods his head in a clear message: Say whatever you want. Then I look at Connor, who nods as well.
“I’m in Rainersville having a drink with my dad. And I do know where Connor is. He’s sitting right next to me, holding my hand as I learn the truth about how you’ve kept me from my father.”
There’s so much more I could say, but I cut myself off, waiting to see how Grey is going to play this.
His silence speaks volumes.
“Vox, that’s not what I was doing. At least not to be evil.
Your grandmother and I discussed the best course for you, which was obviously a future in snowboarding.
Your dad was either going to take you to California and ruin that chance for you, or he was going to show up only to leave again, and that wasn’t fair to you, either. ”
I absolutely hate how rational that sounds. When I look back up at my father, he’s chewing on his lip, presumably because he knows Grey’s right.
“What about after I was eighteen, Grey? When Grandma died, I had my own place and a contract to stay with Patterson. Why’d you keep him from me then?”
Please tell me he’s wrong.
“I’ll talk with you when you get back,” Grey says, desperately clinging to his shredded dignity and false sense of power, telling me he’s trying to buy time to get his story figured out.
“I’ll be busy when we get back, and allow me to save your security detail the trouble of tattling…Connor will be in my condo, and that’s where he’s going to stay. You and I can talk tomorrow,” I argue.
“I’d like to remind you both—”
I cut Grey off mid-sentence. “Yeah, yeah, we can’t fraternize. That means fuck, right? You’re a little too late.”
My dad snorts across the table as Connor scrubs a hand down his face.
“Tomorrow, Connor will be busy moving out of the Patterson-paid housing that he currently enjoys, not to mention looking for a new job. Call me when you get back.”
My dad speaks up, his eyes flitting back and forth between Connor and me. “Mr. Lang already has another job offer to consider, so don’t worry yourself about him too much.”
I bite back a laugh, not fully understanding, but still enjoying the moment. Though when I look at Connor, he looks like he might cry. Guess he understands more than I do.
“Call. Me. When. You. Return,” Grey enunciates clearly before hanging up on me.
“Well, that was fun,” my dad says, pulling an easy chuckle out of me.