Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fisher
I've never shared that story with someone I cared about. The only other people who know are my therapists and my childhood friend. I haven't talked to Damien since moving here, but I check in with him every six months so he doesn't worry about me.
Admitting how badly you screwed up your life isn't an easy thing to say aloud, especially to someone you're in love with and who you want to see the best in you.
Noah's always been the exception. She makes me feel safe to reveal all the bad and ugly parts of myself. She listens and doesn't pity me. But she's the one person in this world I can't have.
Jase will never forgive me if he finds out our secret.
And if I don't choose my son, I won't be able to live with myself for screwing up a second time.
Jase needs his father more than ever. He needs guidance and a role model, and most importantly, I need to be honest about why I left.
I call him every night and attempt to make plans, but he constantly brushes me off.
But I didn't return to Sugarland Creek to give up that easily.
He needs to trust me again, and he never will if he finds out I've been lying to him.
After Noah and I shower, we lie in her bed, and she lets me hold her, knowing what's to come. We talk about a bit of everything except the giant elephant in the room.
Three hours pass before she shifts and faces me.
“I should go back and make sure everything's ready for tomorrow. Can we talk more after the fundraiser?”
The sadness in her tone guts me.
I trace her cheekbone, her nose, and run the length of her jawline, imprinting every inch of her face to memory. Nodding, I give her a soft smile. “Yeah. I should go check on Jase.”
Once she walks me to the door, I cup her face and breach her lips with my tongue for a deep kiss.
“Can I ask you one more thing?” she asks as I place my forehead on hers.
I blow out a shaky breath. “Yeah, anything.”
“Did you mean what you said earlier about fallin' in love with me?”
Fuck, she's not making this easy.
“Yeah, Goldie. Meant every word.”
I walk up the steps to Jase's apartment and knock. After I drove to the main house, Garrett explained that Gramma Grace cleaned him up, and after they had a chat about respect, he went home.
“What?” Jase answers, looking as defeated as I feel with a nearly empty beer can in his hand.
I wince at his double black eyes and nose bandage. “You cooled down?”
He shrugs, then nods.
“Good. Get your shoes on.”
“Where are we goin'?” he asks with hesitation as if he plans to argue.
“To visit your sister.”
I haven't been to Lyla's grave since the day we buried her. I wish I could say I recall every second of that day, but I was too numb to process any of it. The only memory I have is of Mariah crying next to her mom and my parents sitting next to Jase.
My mind blocked out everything outside of that.
“Did your mom ever take you here?” I ask, driving slowly through the cemetery. A shiver runs through my body as I look out at the tombstones. I hate cemeteries.
“Each year on her birthday.” Jase keeps his voice low as he looks out his window.
Once I park and we get out of my truck, I realize I don't remember where hers is. I never came again after the funeral. I knew being here would remind me of her absence and what happened in the weeks following her death, but there's no valid excuse for not visiting.
I'm a shit father.
Luckily, I don't have to ask because Jase takes the lead. The flowers they left for her last time are long dead, and I regret not bringing a fresh bouquet.
“Your mom picked out a nice tombstone.”
Staring down at it, I read it for the first time.
Beloved daughter and sister
Lyla Eleanor Underwood
October 13 2001 - May 3 2013
“Grandma did. Mom couldn't hold it together long enough to decide.”
“Oh.” I stand with my hands in my pocket, debating how to start this conversation I never planned on having with him. “She's not the only one who couldn't.”
“Honestly, I don't remember much. Only that Mom cried all day every day and you were gone a few weeks later.” His somber tone drives a knife into my heart because once he hears the truth, it could change everything.
“I didn't wanna leave you, Jase. I wanted to be strong enough, but I was at war with myself.”
He looks over at me, his brows pinched together. “Because they blamed you?”
“I blamed myself, too. The guilt ate me alive. The pain of losin' her consumed me.” I shake my head, ashamed that it took ten years to have this talk with him. “There's somethin' you should know about why I was gone. I dunno how much it'll matter now, but you deserve the truth.”
I lower myself to the ground, flattening my palm to the fresh-cut grass and feeling closer to her than I have in years.
“I woulda died if it meant it could save her,” I say, choking up at what I put my childhood friend and my family through. “I tried takin' my own life even knowin' it couldn't bring her back.”
Jase steps closer, but I purposely keep my head down to avoid his gaze.
“When?”
“Three weeks after.” My voice cracks as I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I felt like I couldn't exist in a world where she didn't. The pain suffocated me until I couldn't take it any longer.”
He blows out a sharp breath. “Does Mom know this?”
I look at him watching me. “She does.”
He frowns. “She never told me that.”
“She was tryin' to protect you while livin' in her own personal hell. She needed someone to point fingers at, and I willingly accepted it because no matter what anyone told me, it was my fault.”
“How'd you try to kill yourself?”
“You remember my friend Damien?”
“Yeah. He brought me gifts every year on Christmas and my birthday.”
“Oh. He never told me that.” Sounds like him, though.
“Braxton didn't like him comin' around. He thought Damien was one of Mom's triggers. She'd spiral for the next few days after he left. But I liked talkin' to him, so she let him stay.”
“I only see him about twice a year for the same reason,” I admit.
“What does he have to do with Lyla?” He sits next to me.
If I'm going to come clean, I might as well face both of my children.
“It's what I asked him to do for me. Do you wanna know the full story? I've tried to spare you the details because it's not somethin' I'm proud of, but it explains why I was gone. At least for those first two years.”
He pauses briefly before nodding. “Yeah, I wanna know.”
I inhale deeply, preparing my mind and heart for a deep dive into the past after already doing it with Noah. But he deserves to know just as much.
“Lyla's death felt like the lowest point in my life until three weeks later when I asked Damien to shoot me, and I realized that was my lowest. You and your mom blamed me, and I had nothin' to live for. I thought death was my only out.”
I explain what happened that day and how I felt when I woke up in the hospital. Jase hangs onto each word, but with his flat expression, I'm not sure how he's taking it.
“You don't just get to ask someone to murder you and walk away from that. Especially to a detective.” I shake my head at the irony.
“Damien knew I needed help and if I didn't get it, I'd eventually succeed. The grief and pain gutted me, hollowed me out until I was nothin’ but a shell, which led me to spendin’ two years in a behavioral health facility.
I missed you like crazy, but your mom couldn't forgive me, so we divorced.
She didn't want you to know where I was, and at the time, I agreed with that.
I worried about how you'd take it. Later, I realized it left too much room for interpretation of why I was gone.
Not tellin' you had you believin' I abandoned you.”
“Yeah, I did. Mom said you decided to travel for work because being at home was a constant reminder of Lyla,” he says. “I remember wonderin' why you never called or sent a postcard.”
A pang of sadness hits me in full force. Each word of truth that leaves my mouth is accompanied by a dull ache in my chest.
“I had it in my mind that you'd written me off like your mother. She said y'all were better off without me, and I assumed it to be true. I thought not comin' around was makin' it easier for y'all to move on. I didn't wanna be a reminder of what happened.”
“Well, it wasn't true.” He takes a shuddering breath as if he’s fighting his emotions, too.
“I lost a sister and a dad within a month. Practically a mom, too. She was a mess, for years, and it wasn't until Braxton came into the picture that she was somewhat back to her normal self.” There’s a moment of silence as he turns his focus back onto the ground.
“I really needed you.” His voice is low and filled with pain as he rips up pieces of grass.
Though I don't blame Mariah for how she coped with everything, I wish she'd been honest and not made me feel like Jase didn't want me either.
“Jase.” I sigh deeply and don’t say another word until he peers at me again.
“I have so many regrets. I spent the past eight years between therapy and grief counselin'.
Every appointment or group session I went to, I talked about my goals.
My number one was findin' a way back into your life.
I knew I had a lot of explainin' and apologizin' to do.
I'd screwed up, and I needed to find the courage to come back. I'm so sorry I let you down.”
“I remember feelin' a mix of happiness and anger when you called me last year.
Happy because I was overwhelmed to hear your voice.
Anger because I realized how easy it woulda been for you to do that ages ago.
I wanted to see you and help you get a house, but I wasn't sure if I wanted a father-son relationship.”