36. Thing two
Chapter 36
Thing two
TOMER
O n the night Lettie accepted my collar, I told her there were three things I needed before I could say I have it all .
Viktor Lenkov is dead in the ground, where he belongs. That was thing one—not affiliated with Dr. Suess.
If the tone of the evening is any indication, it’s possible I’ll be crossing the second item off my list—making peace with Big Al.
Once that’s done, there’s nothing stopping me from marrying Lettie.
Boss throws his arm over my shoulder, silently leading me away from the throngs of apology givers. Like I told Sue, the new sign would’ve been enough for me. Everything else, though, made that momentous gesture insignificant.
Not to say it was. It means the world to me.
Somehow, their words affected me more.
All these years, I assumed the worst in everyone. Figured the Nofunfuck sign and frequent jokes were how they honestly felt. By believing that lie, I discounted all the positive things they’ve said about me and their kind gestures.
Like when Sawyer spent an entire day hitting store after store to buy all the furniture, bedding, and related supplies to furnish Lettie’s room at Freya’s apartment. And how Leo sent Jonesy and Aaron to rough up Davidov when I couldn’t do it myself. How Kri and Shep dropped everything on a moment’s notice to keep Lettie safe and have my back when I went to torch the trafficking house.
And how Big Al stopped me from killing my father, dragging me out of that shack before I did something I could never undo.
Not that I’d likely want to. However, he knew I didn’t need that on my conscience. I suspect he saw me as a better man and was determined to help me see it too.
Perhaps he’s finally accomplished that.
Boss leads me into the copy room. My feet stop short in the doorway, and I gasp. With eyes bulging, I scan the room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling.
It isn’t a copy room anymore. It’s an office.
A nice as hell office.
Some of the cabinetry remains, including the counter. But the file cabinets, copy machine, and random supplies are gone. In their place is a massive workstation, three monitors hooked up to machines hidden under the desk. In the corner is a two-person couch with small tables on each end. There’s a padded ottoman in the spot where a coffee table would be.
Turning around, I face Big Al. “What’s all this?”
“Well, Lettie seems to be the only one who uses the copy machine lately, so I moved it down the hall to the little alcove near her desk. It left me with all this empty space.” He spreads his open palms to the sides. “Figured it’d make a nice office for someone.”
Once his eyes are done tracking the room, they land on mine. One side of his mouth quirks. “Know anyone who needs their own space?”
I gesture to the corner. “What’s with the couch?”
“Well, as someone informed me recently... you’re about to become a father. And that means Lettie will be a mother.” He grows oddly shy, cheeks reddening. “Sometimes, mothers and fathers need a place to rest and feed a baby or whatever. So I assume.”
A smile ambushes my face at the idea of Lettie feeding our caterpillar on the couch while I work. Or vice versa.
“Thank you for this.” My neck cricks to one side, and I raise my brows inquisitively. “Who told you I needed an office? Mia or Lettie?”
He purses his lips, narrows his eyes, and rears his head back, feigning being insulted. “I’m not as unobservant as you’re implying, kid.”
“My apologies, Boss.” I lower my forehead. “Last thing I want to do is insult the man who’s giving me my own office. Especially after I committed the biggest fuckup of my life by lying to him for eight years.”
His mouth opens, making room for a forceful exhale.
Before he can respond, I begin expressing how sorry I am by channeling every ounce of love I have for him. He deserves an apology more profound and earnest than the meaningful ones my family members gave me moments ago. “Big Al, I never thanked you. For what you did.”
He shrugs, adding a few shakes of his head, seeming unclear on what I’m referring to.
“When you stopped me from murdering Fred Stillman. I’m sorry you had to see me that way, and I’m sorry for never expressing how much it mattered to me. I needed you, and you were there. Literally taking the blade from my hand.” I pause for a breath and force a jagged swallow. “In truth, I was pissed at you for stopping me. We both know he deserved a death far worse. It took years to figure it out, but I know why you wouldn’t let me kill him.”
“Yes, he deserved a much worse end to his life,” Boss concedes. “I stopped you because it was the right thing to do. You aren’t a cold-blooded murderer. You’re a better man than that. You were back then. Still are now.” He presses his lips firmly together, breathing in sharply through his nose. “After everything he did to you, having his blood on your hands was a burden you didn’t need to carry. Good men don’t murder their fathers, even when they deserve it. Despite the shitty start to your life, you’re a damn fine man.”
His words confirm what I’ve slowly come to accept as the truth. The belief seals a fissure in my soul.
“I know that now.” My jaw tightens. “Thank you for seeing it in me.”
He steps forward, slowly approaching me. “Even good men have faults and make mistakes.”
His next words nearly shake me to my knees.
“I’m sorry I failed you, Tomer. I fault myself for you keeping Lettie a secret from me. As much as I blame you. Perhaps more.”
“Wh-what?” My neck wobbles, jostling my head. “You didn’t fail me. And what I did wasn’t?—”
He holds me by the arms and looks deep into my eyes. “I did. If I’d done what I promised, you’d have known that I would have forgiven you even if you didn’t tell me right away. You’d have believed I’d still love you. But since I didn’t do enough to right the wrongs that monster did to you growing up, it left you feeling like you’d lose me if you finally admitted it. Right?”
Moisture needles at the back of my eyes. “Yes. A few weeks turned into months. Then after a year, it felt like it was too damn late. I was... afraid I’d lose you. The fear twisted into other worries until I was terrified you’d leave Florida and Redleg to be with your daughter.” Tears spill, dampening my cheeks on their way to the floor. “One way or another, I thought I’d lose you. Either because you couldn’t forgive me or because you’d leave me. For her.”
It’s amazing how easily you find clarity when you stop listening to the negative voices in your mind.
“I get it.” He nods solemnly, pulsing his hands on my arms to convey his compassion. “I wouldn’t have left you. I never will. And that’s how I failed you. Never, for one minute, should you have doubted my position in your life. From the night I found you in the barracks, crying into your liquor bottle, I wanted to be there for you. Not only because of what you could do for the Army or our unit. And not because I felt sorry for you.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “It’s because I was unwilling to go another moment letting you think you weren’t worthy of a father’s love.”
He wraps me in his embrace, and I fold myself around him, letting him hold me up.
And I cry.
Cry for the years I’ve wasted in my mental prison.
Cry for the suffering I caused him and myself.
Cry for the man he always saw in me, but I didn’t.
And I cry for the little boy who was raised to think he didn’t matter.
And this man in front of me—my true father—allows me to cry. He lets me sob. And he comforts me through it, never shaming me or telling me to suck it up or be a man.
Because that’s what fathers do when they love their children.
Once my tears have dried, I pull out of the hug.
His eyes are also misty. “I love you, son.”
Finally, I say the words I’ve never said to anyone other than Lettie.
“I love you too.”
With my next breath, I know it’s time to go get my third thing.