Chapter Twenty-One #2
“You must be proud. I don’t get to every meet, but he’s incredible to watch,” I say, carefully navigating this topic since I know they haven’t seen him swim in years.
“I haven’t been in a while. Jonathan asked me to stop coming. Said it put too much pressure on him. So”—he shrugs—“I don’t go. But I did for most of his life. Even hired some world-class instructors to improve his stroke. It paid off.”
“It did,” I say, noting the dip of his eyes. He looks like he’s pulling from memories he wishes he could return to. “Did you teach him to play football as well?”
“Not really, other than tossing the ball around with him when he was a kid. His mother hates that he plays. She can’t stand to watch, afraid he’ll get hurt.
But he plays anyway. There’s no talking that boy out of anything.
” He opens the grill and presses the spatula into the burgers.
A flame erupts with a sizzle. “I coach Ryan’s basketball team now.
And baseball in the spring. That and the business take up most of my time. Rather be where I’m wanted.”
I rub my arms to warm them up, not sure how to transition out of this conversation. It’s obviously a raw topic. I resort to what I know best, after years of small talk at adult functions. “You have a beautiful home.”
Hal’s face lights up. Pride emanates off him as he admires it.
“Built it myself. Well, Samantha and me. She helped design it and picked out the details. Me and the guys from my team built every inch. We lived in a trailer on this land for years until the company finally made a profit and we were able to make this a reality. A lot of hard work and love went into making this home.”
He speaks of the house like it’s his greatest accomplishment—like most would praise their children.
This is his castle. Nothing about this man resembles the controlling, abusive father I was prepared to meet.
Sure, he’s loud and unfiltered. And he definitely has a strained relationship with Jonathan—the air changes when they’re in each other’s presence.
But he seems to love his family. Or else he’s wearing a very convincing mask.
“You’re shivering,” Hal notes. “Go ahead inside. The burgers will be ready in a few minutes.”
As soon as I step through the door, Jonathan is there to envelop me, rubbing my arms and back to warm me up. I tuck my face into his shirt, breathing him in.
“What were you and my dad talking about? You were out there long enough to turn you into a Popsicle.”
“Just… dad stuff.”
“Since when are you a dad?” He grins. I pinch him, causing him to jump back with a laugh. “Ow.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Hal announces, holding up the platter of burgers like an offering at a feast.
“Perfect timing,” Samantha answers, a platter of roasted potatoes in her hands. “Jonathan, can you get the pitcher of iced tea? Sadie, is apple cider vinaigrette okay with you for the salad?”
I nod.
Hal intercepts Jonathan as he picks up the glass pitcher. He says something only his oldest son can hear. They exchange a steely gaze before Jonathan disappears into the dining room with the tea.
I sit across from Jonathan with Hal at the head of the table, his youngest son and wife on either side of him. I keep trying to catch Jonathan’s eye, but he won’t look up from scowling at his plate.
The table is animated with Ryan being the entertainment, sharing accounts of his basketball game—Hal adding details not important to the ten-year-old.
Jonathan’s brother has no problem teasing his father or being goofy in his retelling to make everyone laugh.
He even gets Jonathan to smile and receives a tousle of the hair in return.
He has me fully engaged in his storytelling, laughing along with his big gestures and silly voices.
“When’s your next performance?” Samantha asks me.
I’m stunned for a moment. “You know I dance?”
She smiles like I’m being modest. “Jonathan told me.”
This is the first time our eyes meet across the table. Jonathan’s neck is pink. Is he embarrassed? I want to lean over the table and kiss him—he’s so fricken cute right now, being called out by his mom.
“December twentieth,” I tell her, still smiling at Jonathan.
“Maybe we can come—”
“No,” Jonathan and I say at the same time.
I bite my lip. “Sorry.”
Hal tilts his head, not pleased that his wife is being shut down.
“I get too nervous. I’ve never let anyone attend my shows other than my parents my entire life.”
Hal laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all night.
My face is the color of the apples tucked into the centerpiece.
His laugh tapers off. “You’re serious?” He looks to Jonathan.
“You’ve never seen her dance?” Jonathan shakes his head.
“But you’re on a stage, in front of an audience. You’re a dancer, for damn sake.”
“Hal”—Samantha sets a hand on his arm—“don’t embarrass her.”
“I just don’t get it.” He scoffs with a shake of his head.
When I glance at Jonathan, his jaw is clenched. He looks like he’s about to tip the table over.
“It’s fine,” I assure them both. “I know it sounds silly. I’m superstitious, and I guess this is just one of those things I started when I was little and am afraid to give up now.
So, I only ever let my parents watch me.
” I look at Ryan. “Like wearing the same pair of socks when you’re on a winning streak,” referencing a story he shared.
“Man, those things stank,” he says, causing his family to laugh.
“But I guess—”
“Do you mind if I show Sadie around?” Jonathan asks, scooting his chair back and picking up his plate and glass.
“Sure,” his mother replies, cutting off whatever Hal was about to say. And I have a feeling it wasn’t going to be yes.
“Thank you,” I say, gathering my dinner setting as well. “This was so nice.”
“Anytime,” Hal replies. Samantha rubs his shoulder. “And I mean that. Come by anytime.”
I smile, appreciating the open invitation. Although I’m not sure how Jonathan feels about it. He nearly drops his glass.