Chapter 45 Wyatt
WYATT
MY FATHER JOINS ME ON the dock later that night, where I’m sneaking a cigarette. I cut back almost entirely this summer, but the past few days have been…overwhelming, to say the least.
“You okay?” He comes up beside me at the edge.
I exhale a cloud of smoke and let the night breeze carry it away. “Well, my girlfriend’s pregnant so…”
Dad chuckles. “Is it too late to give you the condom talk?”
I groan. “Don’t even start. It was one drunken night. And we were so responsible.”
“Clearly not.”
“Seriously, we even drove to the pharmacy the next day for Plan B. We had to chase some down, and we thought we took it in time, but…”
“But fate had other ideas.”
“Fate? You think I was fated for this?”
“Nah. Not really.” He shrugs. “I believe in making your own fate.”
I go to rake my hand through my hair, but I forget I’m holding a cigarette and almost burn the ends of my hair off. I take a deep drag instead and blow out another puff of smoke, watching it float over the water.
“You seem to be handling it okay,” Dad remarks.
I bark out a laugh. “I started smoking again, so obviously not. I’m trying to, though. I have to figure out how to be someone who can handle this.”
“Of course you can.” His tone goes gruff. “But I will say…”
“What?”
“Being a father isn’t something you can half-ass. You can’t get lost in music for days.”
“I know. If she keeps the baby, I’ll do whatever I need to do.” A lump fills my throat. “I love her.”
His expression softens.
“I’m not gonna let her go through this alone.” I take another drag. “It’s weird, but when she told me, we were sitting right there,” I say, nodding to the end of the dock. “Time just stopped for a moment. But then…it kept going.”
He chuckles. “Well, yes, that’s usually how time moves. Forward.”
“No, I mean… I wasn’t panicked. I was calm. I thought, okay, I guess maybe we’re doing this, or maybe not. Blake even commented that I wasn’t as scared as she thought I would be.” I exhale another cloud. “Were you scared when Mom told you she was pregnant with us?”
“Beyond scared,” he admits. “I reacted poorly.”
I frown at him. “Poorly how?”
“We got into a big fight because she kept it from me for weeks. I only found out because she started bleeding and had to go to the hospital.”
“That doesn’t sound like Mom. Why didn’t she tell you?”
“Because she was scared of how I would react, and rightly so. I didn’t want kids that young.
I was still in the NHL. But not only that—I didn’t know how to be a father.
Because mine was a piece of shit who only spoke to me if it was about hockey or when he was beating the shit out of me and my mom. ”
I nod, because I’ve heard this before. And while I feel sick about the childhood he had, I’m proud of who he’s become. He’s a good man in spite of his father. He could’ve taken a whole different path, perpetuated the cycle of abuse, but he broke free of it.
“I lashed out,” he continues, and I hear the grief in his voice.
“I said shit that I regret. The thing about your mom is she always sees through my bluster and cocky remarks. She knew it was coming from a place of fear and was able to forgive me. We made up, and then we had you guys, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”
He reaches over and slings one arm around me, squeezing my shoulder before releasing me.
“You’re already ahead of the game, Wyatt. You’re standing here saying you’ll do whatever it takes. And that’s something I had to learn the hard way. I had to learn to be your dad.”
“Well, I had—have,” I correct, “a great father. I know I can do this if she wants me to. Maybe not perfectly. I’ll probably screw it up half the time, but I think I can do it.”
I can’t believe the words that are exiting my mouth. Who the fuck is this guy? My entire life, my head has been pure chaos, pushing me in a thousand different directions. One summer with Blake has tethered me. Not in the way she fears, though.
Not a trap but an anchor.
When I check on her a short while later, she’s curled up on her bed, her cheek pressed against the pillow. The ashen shade of her face tells me she just threw up.
“You okay?” I ask quietly. “Need me to bring you some crackers? Water?”
“No, thank you. I’m just gonna lie here until my stomach settles.”
I stretch out next to her, and she rolls toward me and rests her cheek on my chest. I run my fingers through her hair.
“You were right,” I find myself saying.
“About what?”
“When you said I’ve been stuck in my own life by telling myself stories about who I am, who I’m supposed to be.
I’ve been so fucking stubborn about everything.
Refusing to even consider playing pop music, refusing to let people help me.
Convincing myself I can’t ever have a relationship because I’m self-centered and music comes first and I’m destined to be alone on the road.
” There’s a strange ache in my chest. “Fuck. All I ever did was hold myself back.”
“And you’re not holding back anymore?” she murmurs.
“I don’t think so. It’s…sort of fucked up, but the moment you told me you were pregnant, it’s like I could suddenly see all these new paths available to me.” I swallow. “Not necessarily ones that lead to fatherhood. I’m not saying we should keep it. But all those paths have one thing in common.”
“What?”
“You. All paths lead to you.”
She tilts her head up at me, and her bottom lip starts trembling. I don’t miss the flood of emotion in her eyes, so I pull her close again, gently stroking her hair. After several beats of silence, her whisper tickles my neck.
“You don’t have to stay here if you want to go write.”
“No.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”