Chapter 74
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
For me, letting go of my anger was a great deal easier than letting go of his perceived ambivalence.
—Ursula “Sula” Moore, in an interview about her late father, software giant West Moore
Before I go to see my father, I take care of wrapping up my life in town. I contact a former navy buddy who recently moved to town to see if he wants to buy my building. When he asks why, I explain, “I’m moving to New York.”
“Doesn’t seem like your cup of tea, Kensington.”
“There’s a woman,” I begin.
Before I can continue to tell him about Fallon, his silver eyes flash with humor. “Of course there is. Is her pussy good enough to go chasing after…”
I had him up in a chokehold against a wall within seconds. With my hand pressed against his jaw, I murmur directly into his ear. “Don’t speak about my future wife that way.”
He gurgles for a few moments as I continue to cut off air to his windpipe. Finally, he manages to get out, “I’m.” Gasp. “Sorry.”
I let him drop before I do something that will keep me from Fallon any longer than necessary. Or that will require Thorn’s intervention. God only knows I don’t want to be indebted to his ass any more than I am. As it is, I’m getting daily pings from him asking how Fallon is, if I’ve told her everything. And if she’s forgiven me.
Since I can’t give him an affirmative on all three of them, I continue to ignore him.
As I drive out to the home I grew up in, I think back to my earliest childhood memories on Kensington Farm. How my mama used to love flowers. How she’d hold my hand as we walked amid the sunflowers that grew behind the barns.
Mama . Until Paige came home a few years ago to confront my father, I’d forgotten about those memories. I’d shut her out. I’d let my father’s lies replace the warmth that Melissa Kensington had bestowed upon us.
What would our lives have been like if she’d lived? I ask myself, not for the first time since we found out the truth.
After Paige had the strength and purpose to confront our father about the truth surrounding our mother’s death, it caused thirty years of lies to unfurl. It also caused thirty years of love to come into question. What Tyson Kensington did shook the foundation of our lives, making Paige believe she killed our mother. Lying to her when she fell pregnant as a teen when she tried to search for the baby’s father. Denying her the chance to have a family with her now husband.
Lies.
For what?
I turn down the driveway that leads to the big house. Parking my car in the semi-circle, I sit for a few minutes with the car running before turning off the ignition and sliding out. I stare at the home I lived in for the first eighteen years of my life and the only word that floats through my head is the one that escapes my lips is, “Lies.”
That’s when I hear Jesse’s voice, “It wasn’t all lies, brother. There were just too many told to us.”
Turning, I see him standing a few feet away. We’ve always been close but there’s some things we’ve never discussed over beers at Rodeo Ralphs. I jerk my chin up. “Have you forgiven the old man?”
“Forgiven? Yes.” I open my mouth to speak when Jess lifts his palm and I see the diamond brightness in his eyes. “Forgotten? I can’t say I’ll ever forget the night I drove up and Paige was right there railing at him for ruining her life. He was so adamant he was right.”
“That’s what I can’t reconcile.” My tone is hushed as we stand shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the deck.
“What?”
A rush of air leaves my lungs. “He lied, and he lied, and he lied.”
Jesse faces me. “Yes. He did.”
My hands fist at my sides.
“Ethan, what’s the problem?”
“Where is the old man?”
“These days? He’s probably on the back porch…hey! Where are you going?” Jesse shouts as I bound up the stairs.
I don’t answer him as I walk around the wrap-around porch until I spy my father sitting in a rocker. His head turns in my direction slowly as I make my approach. It strikes me suddenly how much his heart condition has affected him. Once upon a time, Tyson would have had his pistol cocked and aimed at any potential intruder. I’d have felt proud of my father for standing his ground, for protecting his honor.
Lies.
I’m so much like him it scares the fuck out of me.
I don’t want to end up like him—brittle and damaged. Willing to hurt the precious parts my heart out of a misguided sense of righteousness.
It stops. Right now.
My steps slow as I approach. I move in front of him until I’m the only thing he sees. His face lifts and something stops me from just saying what I came to say and leaving. I did that once to Fallon with disastrous results.
I need to talk to him, to find out why.
Instead, I drop into the rocker across from his and set it in motion, not saying a word. Waiting for him to speak first.
It doesn’t take long. “You and your mother used to sit right there.”
“I have a faint memory of her reading me books. Maybe some of that occurred right here. Then again, maybe you’re just lying to me about her.”
He flinches. “Have a lot to say sorry for.”
“You lied, Dad.” I stop the motion of my chair. “Why?”
His face takes on a thoughtful cast. “Pain. Pride. Take your pick.”
Despite my feelings for what my father did to our family, my empathy for the body my father’s trapped in makes me ask, “Let me try to translate? You felt like less of a man because she got into that wreck? Because you couldn’t bring her back and Paige was born?”
He stares deep into my eyes before giving me a slow nod. “Over the years, I began to resent…”
Because I know him well, it’s easy for me to complete his sentence. “Paige. Because she looked like Mama?”
Nod.
“Acted like her?”
Nod.
I swallow and ask the toughest, “Fell in love?”
His eyes close. For a long moment, I think he’s drifted asleep until I track a lone tear down his cheek. “Why should the son of the bast…”
“Bastards?”
Nod.
“Why should the son of the bastards who took Mama fall in love with the girl who looked just like her? Is that what you were trying to say?”
Nod. Another tear falls. “Wrong. Loves Paige. Austyn. Me too. Wrong.”
“Yeah, Dad. You were wrong.”
Shame wars with love when he admits, “Lied. But miss your mama. Still. ”
“Dad, yes, you lied. But your lies?” I shake my head. “They didn’t just touch Paige, Austyn, and Beckett. Those lies touched Jesse. Me. Those lies were far-reaching.”
His tears are falling ceaselessly now. He reaches for a tissue, but his hand is trembling. I lean over and hand it to him, appreciating what Jesse said now differently. Sitting back in my chair, I study the man whose behavior I let cloud a large part of my adult life. “I’m not certain I’ll ever forget what you did in the name of love.”
He accepts my words with a slight inclination of his head. But who am I, another liar, to sit in judgment? My father told lies and broke apart multiple relationships because of love? I did it because of my job, uncaring of the fact that I broke the heart of the woman I love in the process. “The problem is, you raised a son who lied for a living, so I know how much lying hurts. It gets so you don’t know what you said to who. It makes it so you don’t know who you are. You say the wrong thing at the wrong time and then live in a world of regret eating away at your soul.”
His eyes bulge out and his lips part. “So, it’s not up to me to forgive or forget what you did, Dad. The only person who can do that is waiting for you on the other side. And trust me, if she’s anything like Paige, Austyn, and Fallon, Mama’s gonna be pissed. I hope you have your apology A-game ready. You’re going to need it.”
He swallows repeatedly before he rasps, “Love you, son. All of you. Still sorry.”
I lean forward and lean my forehead against his. “I know.”
I know he is because I am.
I just have a longer chance to make it up to the woman I love. I hope.