Twenty-eight
Ethan
Iblink several times, trying to scrub the sleep from my eyes as the insistent alarm tone blares in the room.
My hand snakes out from under the covers, fumbling a moment before my fingers find the cool glass of my phone, hitting the silence button.
I push myself up, feeling the slight creak in my shoulders.
Entering the shower, I let the hot water scald the tension from all over my body. My hand grazes against the built-in shelf and stops. Sitting right there, mocking me, is Lily’s favorite body wash.
That fragrance triggers the moments we shared before everything fell apart.
When we first started dating, we had sex in the shower several times a week. We were insatiable. The steam would cling to the glass, fogging the world outside. All she had to do was look at me, lean back against the glass door, soap foam slicking her torso, and my dick would perk up to say hello.
I let out a low, frustrated groan just thinking of Lily’s naked body, covered in soap bubbles, pressed against me while I drove into her.
I brace myself with both hands flat against the cold, white tiles, the pressure digging into my palms. I hang my head and wait for the blood to retreat.
Once my dick deflates, I turn off the water. Grabbing the plush, oversized towel from the rack, I dry myself off and finish getting dressed.
Upon exiting the room, the first thing I notice is Lily’s door, still half-shut.
My feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying me toward it before I can even process the thought.
Not wanting to wake her, I carefully push the door a tad wider.
My eyes land on her frail body, a small mound beneath a mountain of blankets.
I push the door fully open and step inside. Cautiously, I pad over to the bedside, relieved to see the blankets rising and falling steadily.
Feeling a little lighter knowing she is safe and sound asleep, I quietly back out of the room and begin to make my way downstairs to the kitchen.
I stop midway when I hear Jake’s booming laugh, followed by Maddy’s higher-pitched retort. A small smile tugs at my lips.
“Can too!” Maddy declares, pointing her spoon, dripping with milk, at her brother.
“Can not,” Jake mimics, his tone playful.
“Good morning, you two,” I say.
“Hey, Daddy.”
“What are you two going back and forth about this morning?” I ask, looking up at Jake, who has his back to me, sliding the juice jug back into the fridge.
“Jake doesn’t think I can hold my head underwater for one minute,” Maddy informs me.
I look down at her, meeting those vibrant, curious eyes that are just like her mother’s. “Oh, yeah?”
“That’s because when she got to fifteen seconds, she threw herself out of the water like a startled cat.” Jake chuckles.
“That was one time, Jake.” She rolls her eyes like a typical teenager, then goes back to scooping up her cereal.
“Well, I’m sure you can prove him wrong, sweet pea,” I say, kissing the top of her head before moving toward the coffee machine.
I glance over in time to see Maddy stick her tongue out at Jake, who just smirks, shaking his head.
I place a fresh K-Cup into the brewer, the plastic clicking into place. “So, what are everyone’s plans today?” I ask, pressing the “brew” button. The machine whirs to life.
“Sam and Ebony are coming over for girls’ night,” Maddy announces.
I look up at Jake, who is still leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone. “Jake. What about you?” I ask.
He slowly looks up, meeting my gaze, then shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“Would you mind spending some time with your old man?” I ask.
Jake doesn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the floor, his jaw working subtly.
“I would really like to make things right. Not just with your mom, but between us. I’m not asking for forgiveness, just…” I pause, running a hand over my head. “I just want to spend some time with my son. Is that such a bad thing?”
His shoulders are tense, his muscles bunching and jerking beneath the fabric of his T-shirt.
I wait for him to respond but he remains silent.
“I’m not going to give up on you, Jake,” I continue, my voice gaining a quiet determination.
Finally, he turns to me. His expression is unreadable, but then he says, “Okay. For Mom.”
I let out a slow, shaky sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
He gives me a curt nod, then turns and disappears up the stairs.
“What are you doing?” Lily asks from behind me.
“Trying to find the right moment to speak to my son who on some days hates my guts,” I mutter.
I’ve been watching Jake swim laps in the pool for the last twenty minutes.
He came home from work about two hours ago, and I’ve been hovering, trying to work up the nerve even though he agreed to spend time with me.
“He doesn’t hate you, Ethan,” she reminds me.
I love how much she tries to find reason and hope in everything.
“How are you feeling today?” I ask.
Lily moves her gaze away from Jake, who’s doing a flip turn at the far end, to me. “I’m good.”
I study her face, searching for the truth beneath the answer. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
One corner of her mouth lifts, and a quiet chuckle slips out. “Seriously, Ethan. I’m good.”
Relief moves through me. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Lily rests her hand on my arm and gives me a tender smile. “It’s going to be fine, Ethan. He’s your son, not a stranger. You don’t have to be perfect with him. What matters most to Jake is that you’re there for him.”
She gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to rest for a bit.”
I give her a nod, a silent thank you, and watch as she walks out of the kitchen.
Turning my attention back to Jake, I notice he’s pulled himself out of the water and is sitting on the edge of the pool, his shoulders tense and his back stiff. His feet are still submerged, kicking idly, and I sense the weight of unspoken anger in his posture.
I scrub my hands down my face, the tension knotting my jaw, bracing myself for the inevitable confrontation.
Opening the patio door, I slide it shut and make my way toward him.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he responds, his gaze fixed on the shimmering water.
I kick off my sandals, feeling the hot concrete beneath my feet, and sit beside him, letting my own feet slip into the cool water.
“How long were you watching me?” Jake asks, kicking his feet lightly, sending small ripples across the surface.
“Not long,” I admit. “I was giving you your space. I know how much swimming means to you.”
He scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound that cuts through me. “But not enough to bother to show up to any of my meets before, right?” He finally turns, his eyes burning with disappointment.
I nod, unable to meet his gaze for more than a second. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve a lot more than that, Dad,” he spits out. He turns away again, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched.
We sit in silence for a beat, the tension radiating between us. I want to say something, anything, but the words catch in my throat.
“Why did you do it, Dad? How could you hurt Mom like that?” he asks.
I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. That’s when it hits me. I never, not once, had the guts to sit my kids down and tell them the ugly truth about what I did to our family. What I did to their mother.
“There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, Jake. No amount of sorry will ever be enough to fix what I broke.”
“You broke more than this family, Dad.” He looks over at me again, his eyes still filled with anger, but now also swimming with deep sadness.
Hearing those words, spoken with such cold conviction, hurts more than I could ever imagine. But I force myself to absorb every barb, because I deserve every single one.
“You were selfish. You weren’t there for us when we needed you. I thought I was over it, learning to forgive like Mom taught us, but now that’s she’s sick?” He shakes his head, turning away from me with a huff, his hands clenching into fists on the edge of the pool. “It brings all the pain back.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I take responsibility for every mistake I’ve made and will do everything I can to correct them. I swear it.”
“I want to believe you.” He turns back to me, his eyes narrowed. “What makes this time different?”
“I’m not asking you to believe me right now,” I say. “All I ask is for a chance to show you I can be a better father and continue to support your mom, through my actions, and not only with words. I lost four years, Jake. I can’t let any more slip away.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his face revealing his internal conflict. “And if I don’t give you a chance?”
“Then I will respect that. I will do my best to earn your trust, even if you never give it to me directly. I’ll keep showing up. Even if you don’t want me to.”
We keep our gaze on one another. I hope he sees and hears the strong willingness in my voice that I will not disappoint him anymore, and that I will never walk away again.
He breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh, keeping his head down. “I forgive you, Dad. I think I already did when you shaved your head for Mom.”
My breath hitches. He looks at me, and his tense features soften. A small smile touches his lips.
“I want to trust you, but I’m scared you’ll stay for a while and then go again. I already know how to deal with you being gone once. I can’t do it again, Dad.” He looks away toward the house, his gaze distant for a moment, then adds, “But I’ll try. For Mom. For Maddy.”
And hopefully for him, I want to add but don’t say.
Turning back to me, he gives me a full, genuine smile, like the sun finally breaking through dark clouds. “And I’m sorry, Dad, for being a dick.”
I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s okay, son.”
“No, it’s not. But like you, I promise to be better.”
And for the first time in years, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. An opportunity to rebuild the bridge and close the gap that my years of abandonment, selfishness, and pain caused.