27. Maggie #2
Balancing on one elbow to keep my body slightly upright, I reached back with my other arm to grasp his hair and pull him to my face.
My fingers slid into the hair just above his ear.
Feeling him this close to me was torment to my body, but it fed my soul.
I wanted him closer. I wanted him far away so I could scream his name without deafening him.
I wanted him faster. I wanted him slower. I needed him now .
“Kiss me,” my rough, perfect husband whispered when his face was inches from mine.
I inhaled just before we connected. Like they were their own force, his lips pried mine apart, causing a throaty moan to spill into his mouth. His hand removed a piece of my hair from between us as he pushed our bodies impossibly closer, teetering toward the edge of our unraveling.
When we finally reached it, we reached it together.
My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes clenched shut.
The entire world was falling, falling, falling, until there was nowhere left to go.
Jack held me against him as my body moved back and forth, shaking like a wilted leaf.
He clutched my hair with one hand and splayed the other across my lower back.
I could barely muster the energy to turn to see him come, but my curiosity forced my head to whip around and catch a glimpse.
And my God , was Jack a sight to see when he came.
His head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, as he grasped me like I was the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth.
The massive expanse of his chest heaved.
His olive skin glowed with a sheen of perspiration.
His hair was ruffled and messy, partially stuck to his forehead.
Words couldn’t describe how incredible this man looked after fucking me into oblivion.
I swore my name was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.
***
“Morning.” An agitated, hungover voice I knew all too well—and that welcomed me more mornings than not—greeted me in the kitchen as I padded down the stairs behind Jack.
Facing my dad after last night should have felt scarier than it did, but I still shook with nerves at the thought of speaking to him.
Jack insisted on staying glued to my side whenever my dad was around, and I found it hard to object.
To my surprise, Dad stood at the stove cooking sausage and eggs.
No…bacon? His usual meal of choice was the first thing I expected him to make as an apology breakfast. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it, so the choice of proteins threw me off.
Grease crackling in the pan pulled my dad’s attention away from Jack and me as he shuffled the food around and turned down the heat.
A pot of coffee steamed on the counter, along with a basket of rolls.
Not that it forgave half of what he did the previous night, but his effort displayed that he must have felt terrible about everything.
“What’s all this?” Jack was suspicious. He wouldn’t forgive my father nearly as fast as I would. I forgave a lot throughout our relationship, but Jack wasn’t that type of person. He held higher standards for me than I did.
Maybe it was time I started taking notes.
His arm reached for mine as we descended the remaining steps.
“Thought I’d make breakfast. It’s the least I can do after making a mess of your floor last night.
” Dad wouldn’t make eye contact with either of us, but he gestured to the floor, now clean of whiskey and broken glass.
The memory of the night before made me shudder.
It was hard enough seeing my dad disappointed without a large amount of alcohol in his system, but the way he acted when Jack and I returned from the barn was unacceptable. “You two hungry?”
“Nope. We’ve got to feed the horses. Come on, Mags.” Jack tugged on my arm to lead me outside.
“Wait,” I resisted. Obviously, breakfast wouldn’t make up for what happened, but he was trying. We at least owed him a chance. “I’m kind of hungry, and the horses can wait a few minutes.”
Jack gave me a look. Just as I predicted, he had no interest in my father’s efforts.
But how could I blame him? The evidence of my father’s rage was right there on his left cheekbone.
I raised my eyebrows and gave him a pleading look after making sure my dad’s attention was back on the food.
After a moment of hesitation—and the desire to get the hell out of there—Jack nodded reluctantly and led us to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me. “Orange juice?”
“Yes, please.” He kissed the top of my head and headed for the refrigerator for my juice. I watched my dad’s bothered expression as his eyes followed Jack.
“I made coffee,” he offered. When he poured the coffee into three separate mugs, Jack shook his head.
“She’s been off caffeine since she’s been pregnant. Not good for the baby.” I swore the smug tone in Jack’s voice was on purpose. As much as I wanted to take baby steps toward forgiving my dad, seeing Jack stand up in his own, subtle way made me smile inside.
“Oh…right,” Dad muttered, bringing only two mugs of coffee to the table.
His eyes made me think he might give me a little hug or kiss on the head like he usually would at home, but he stuttered and hurried back to the stove.
He began plating the sausage and eggs and brought them to the table.
Shockingly, my dad was not nearly as hungover as I thought he would be, considering his level of intoxication the night before.
One more indication of his excessive drinking. I couldn’t help but think it worsened when I left for Wyoming. It wasn’t like anyone was there to stop him in our empty house in Pennsylvania.
Jack set my orange juice on the table and rubbed my shoulder as he took the seat next to me. “You okay?”
I nodded slightly. This conversation needed to convey three things: One, my dad would never act like that again in front of me if he wanted to see me or my baby in the future.
Two, he was going to respect my situation and Jack’s.
And three, apologizing would get him nowhere.
I expected promises and proof of change if our relationship was going to continue.
Dad sat down at the table across from us.
My stomach immediately started to churn.
I never had much morning sickness in the first few months of my pregnancy, but it felt like it was about to begin.
Jack latched onto my hand like he knew what I was thinking as my dad took a long sip of coffee.
“I’m going to rehab,” he admitted with an exhale.
Both mine and Jack’s jaws dropped to the floor.
Every time he got too drunk and acted out, he would wake me in the morning with an apology breakfast and the promise that it would never happen again.
I stopped expecting anything different after the third or fourth time it happened.
His mug dropped to the table a little harder than he meant to, bringing our attention back to his face.
“Last night was an all-time low for me. I’ll admit, I didn’t respect you a bit, Hennicke, and the fact that it was you stopping me from making that bad decision, well…
it led to a sort of revelation.” Jack nodded solemnly but displayed no emotion.
“I’ve painted you as the wrong kind of kid for a long time.
It was difficult to come to terms with the fact that I was the exact type of person I was trying to keep my daughter away from.
But you aren’t that man. You’re better. And I need to work on getting better, too.
I am so terribly sorry for what I did last night. To both of you.”
Silence ensued as my father looked between both of us for some sort of approval. I wasn’t sure what I could say at that moment. Was I proud? Relieved? Skeptical?
“I don’t expect either of you to forgive me for this. It was embarrassing waking up this morning and remembering everything I did.” I flinched, but he folded his hands and continued. “Actually, I…I spoke with your father last night, Jack.
The breath left my lungs, and my stomach lurched. Dad told Lenz?
“What?” Jack's stern voice matched his stone-cold face. “You told my father?”
Dad nodded and motioned for Jack to calm down, which I was sure would only make him angrier. “Wait. Before you get mad, let me explain.”
“You damn well better have an explanation for running to my father without giving me the chance to say anything,” Jack spat. I squeezed his forearm as he tensed. To be fair, Jack’s dad deserved to know, but Jack should be the one to tell him.
“Explain, please, Dad.”
“I didn’t tell Lenz about what’s going on over here, but I did tell him that he should pay a visit.
” Jack tensed even further under my touch.
“The reason I called him was to let him know that I am taking a break from polo while I’m away at rehab.
He thought it was a great idea and even offered to find someone to lease my horses.
Anyway, you two need to be the ones to tell him, preferably sooner rather than later.
Lenz is a good man— better than me. It’s not fair to keep such a secret from him. ”
We nodded in agreement and looked at each other. In the few months of having to communicate without actually speaking, we had learned to read each other’s eyes.
I can’t believe this , Jack’s seemed to say. What are we going to do?
We have to tell your dad, I replied with mine.
That’s terrifying. He’s going to be so hurt that we didn’t say anything.
I squeezed his hand. I love you. We got this.
Jack rubbed my hand with his and told me, without words, that he loved me too, then turned to my dad. “Thank you, Richard. We are going to tell him.”
“And I think it’s great you’re going to rehab, Dad. I’m so proud of you.” I meant every word. Dad was the only person who could help himself get better. That he was finally at this point brought a massive sense of relief. It wasn’t a sure fix, but it was the first step on his road to recovery.
Dad’s eyes softened as he looked at me. “I want to be a better father to you, my Maggie. And this baby,” he motioned to my stomach. “It deserves a good, sober man for a grandfather. That’s what I’m going to be for your family.”
He glanced at Jack when he said the word family , and my heart nearly cracked from the changes my lost father was finally choosing to make. He deserved to be happy.
“When do you leave for rehab?” I asked, faking an itch to hide a tear below my left eye.
“Next week. I told Wally I couldn’t take the horses to New York with him. This is more important.”
“Seems you’ve had a busy morning.” Jack offered a slight grin.
“I wanted to feed the horses for you, but…the sun doesn’t help a hangover.”
The three of us chuckled and, for the first time, everything felt a little bit lighter.
Rehab was only the start. Recovering from alcoholism was a process.
A battle my dad would have to fight for a long time, even after becoming sober.
But he was throwing himself into getting better, and I couldn’t be happier.
“Speaking of, we should probably get to that.” I turned to Jack.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of them.” He stood and kissed my forehead.
I gave him a questioning look to make sure, and he nodded. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, baby.”
His reply brought me back to the first time we had gotten together after all those years in the backseat of his truck.
The times had changed so unbelievably that I did a double take when my mind was brought back to the reality that was my life: my dad and me sitting at the table of my kitchen in freaking Wyoming. With a baby growing inside me.
“Maggie.” My dad reached his hand across the table to latch onto mine after Jack left. “I am so, so sorry for the way I acted last night. You did not deserve that.”
“Thank you for saying that, Dad. It means so much that you’re trying to fix yourself…
for real this time.” For years, I assumed my father’s addiction meant he would never have control over his alcohol consumption.
That I would always have to tiptoe around him and hope he would find the will to recover.
“You know I would do anything for my daughter. And you’re not the only reason I’m doing this. I owe it to myself to get better. I’ve struggled with this for a long time, and I’m sick of hopelessly staring at the damn case of beer in the fridge,” he sighed. “This is important to me.”
“It’s important to me, too. And whatever you need, I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”
“So will I, Maggie. As soon as this baby comes, I want to join the family out here and do everything I can.” My heart swelled. He was moving here. For us.
It was at this moment that I realized, no matter what, it would never just be me and this baby. I had a family who would stay by my side through thick and thin, through mistakes and minefields.
Forever.