11. Gage #2
"Because I was young and stupid and I thought love was enough to justify anything." He ran his hands through his graying hair. "Caroline was everything Regina wasn't. Warm, gentle, genuine. When I was with her, I remembered what it felt like to be happy."
"But you came back."
"Because Regina found out. And she made it very clear that if I left her, she'd take my sons and disappear.
She'd make sure I never saw any of you again, and she'd destroy everything she could get her hands on out of spite.
" His voice broke slightly. "So I ended it.
Came home. And in my depression and guilt, I shut myself away, threw myself into work, and let Regina's anger consume our family. "
I stared at him, trying to process this new understanding of our family's destruction. Regina's cruelty hadn't been random or inexplicable. It had been revenge for a betrayal that had cost her the only thing she'd ever truly valued—control over her husband's loyalty.
"She made you all pay for my choices," Jasper continued. "Made your lives hell because she couldn't hurt the person who'd actually betrayed her. And I let it happen because confronting it would have meant admitting I'd been too weak to choose love when it mattered."
"You were protecting us," I said, the words feeling strange in my mouth.
"I was protecting myself from losing my children.
But in trying to keep you safe from her immediate wrath, I condemned you to years of her slow, systematic destruction.
" He leaned forward, his expression tortured.
"Everything she did to you boys... the manipulation, the emotional abuse, the way she turned you against each other, it was all revenge for something I did.
I don't think I even realized it when it was happening. I was so blind to so many things."
I could hear the guilt in his voice. It was impossible to miss when I was so intimately connected with it myself. Apparently the guilt of your failures was a Farrington man's trait. Maybe we were all cursed.
The weight of his revelation settled over me like a blanket. Our childhood hadn't been destroyed by random cruelty or Regina's inherent evil. It had been collateral damage in a war between my parents, with us caught in the crossfire.
"I should have been braver," Jasper said quietly.
"I should have seen what she was doing and stood up for my boys.
I should have been the father you all deserved.
I should have fought for Caroline, fought for a life where my children could grow up in a house filled with love instead of vengeance.
Instead, I came home like a coward and all my fears came true anyway. "
I could see the parallel he was drawing, the lesson he was trying to impart without saying it directly. That choosing fear over love, protection over risk, often led to losing everything you'd tried to save.
"There's something else I need to tell you," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thick envelope before passing it to me. "I kept track of you, Gage. All these years. You were never really alone, even though I gave you the space you clearly wanted."
My hands stilled on the envelope. "What do you mean?"
"I had people watching out for you. Not invasive, not controlling, but.
.. making sure you were safe. Making sure you had work when you needed it, that you weren't completely isolated.
" His voice grew thick with emotion. "I couldn't bring you home against your will, but I couldn't bear not knowing if you were okay. "
The revelation that I'd never been truly alone, that someone had been quietly ensuring my survival even when I'd convinced myself I was completely cut off, made my throat tight.
"I lost track of you six months ago," he continued, guilt heavy in his voice. "The last reports I had were from Oregon, and then... nothing. I'm sorry you were alone when you got hurt. Sorry I couldn't prevent this accident like I tried to prevent everything else."
"You've been watching me for eleven years?"
"Making sure you were safe. Making sure you had options. It was the only way I knew how to love you from a distance."
He handed me the envelope. "Your grandfather's inheritance. It's been sitting in trust since you turned eighteen. Regina fought to have it dissolved, claimed you'd abandoned your family and forfeited any right to Farrington money. I've been fighting her on it for eleven years."
I stared at the envelope, afraid to open it. My grandfather had been the one adult in our family who'd shown unconditional love, who'd made the ranch a sanctuary for all of us kids.
"How much?" I asked quietly.
"Enough to buy a house. Start a business. Build whatever kind of life you want here in Willowbrook, if that's what you choose. Not that you need it. I don't think I've ever seen a person capable of living as frugally as the life you've been punishing yourself with."
My hands shook as I opened the envelope, scanning the legal documents that transferred a sum of money that would have taken me another decade to save. Not just enough for a house, but enough for independence, for choices, for the kind of security I'd never dreamed possible.
"Why now?" I asked.
"Because Regina can't contest it anymore. Because the divorce is final and her influence over family assets is gone." Jasper's expression softened. "And because Barrett's birth made me realize how much time I've already lost with my sons. I don't want to lose any more."
I looked up at him, seeing something in his face I'd never noticed before. Regret, yes, but also hope. Like maybe it wasn't too late to salvage something from the wreckage of our relationship.
"I don't know how to forgive you," I said honestly. "I don't know how to trust that you've really changed, that you won't just enable the next version of Regina who comes along."
"I don't expect forgiveness to be freely given," Jasper said quietly. "I expect to earn it. Day by day, choice by choice, for however long it takes."
The simple acknowledgment that trust would have to be rebuilt instead of assumed made something ease in my chest. This wasn't a demand for instant reconciliation. This was an offer to do the work.
"I'm staying," I said finally. "In Willowbrook. Permanently."
"Good. This town needs people who understand what it means to fight for the people you love."
"I don't know what I'd do here. For work, I mean."
"You're a master craftsman, Gage. I've seen your work. You could start a construction company, take on renovation projects. With this inheritance, you could be selective about your jobs, take on projects you actually care about."
The idea settled in my mind like a seed finding fertile ground. Building things instead of constantly moving. Creating something permanent instead of running from everything meaningful.
"There's a property that went up for sale last week," he said, the words coming out before I'd fully processed the decision. "I think you're familiar with it. The old house by the swimming hole. That place has been empty for years. Needs extensive work."
"Really? No one's interested in it? It's a beautiful house."
"It used to be, and with the right work it could be again. It's a big project and we're a small town. I think that's all that's put people off. Only a matter of time before someone looks at it and sees the potential."
He looked at me carefully and I nodded slowly.
This was it. This was what I needed to do while I decided the direction my life was going in. A purpose, a project.
An apology that up until now I hadn't known how to give.
I wasn't ready to explain why that particular house mattered, why the idea of restoring it felt like the most important project I'd ever considered. But Jasper seemed to understand that some decisions didn't need immediate explanation. He clearly knew me better than I realized to even suggest it.
"If you're serious about this, about staying and building something here, I'd like to help," he said carefully. "Not to control or influence your choices, but to support them. To be the father I should have been all along."
I studied his face, looking for signs of manipulation or hidden agenda. But all I saw was a man who looked tired and genuinely remorseful, someone who wanted to make amends for failures that couldn't be undone.
"It won't be easy," I said. "Trusting you. Believing you've really changed."
"I know. But Gage, I've already lost eleven years with you. I don't want to lose any more."
The vulnerability in his voice reminded me of something. The way Trace and Delaney had looked at me when they'd offered forgiveness. The way my brothers had welcomed me home despite everything. Forgiveness wasn't about what people deserved. It was about what they needed to heal.
Maybe I could learn to extend that same grace to the man who'd failed to protect me.
"Okay," I said quietly. "We can try."
The relief on his face was immediate and profound. Like he'd been holding his breath for eleven years, waiting to exhale.
After he left, I sat on the cottage porch with the inheritance documents in my lap, staring across the ranch toward the direction of the old swimming hole where I'd spent so much of my childhood. Toward the house that had been sitting empty for years, waiting for someone to see its potential.
For the first time since the accident, I felt something that might have been excitement. Not just about staying in Willowbrook, but about building something here. About taking the skills I'd developed in eleven years of construction work and using them to create something permanent.
Something that might convince Billie Schulster that I was finally ready to stop running.