Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Oliver
Knock! Knock!
I look up from the packet in my hands. The binder clip holding the pages of the financial agreement together clamors against the top of my desk.
I sit back in my seat and take in the one person I didn’t expect to see in my office after hours.
Rodney Mason steps into the office that used to bear his name. He hasn’t stepped foot in here since the day he retired. In the early days of Holt and me taking over, we’d have meetings with Dad on occasion. Dad met us in the conference room on the first floor.
He looks around the space, his face blank as he takes in what I’ve done with the place. The bright white walls are now a subdued cream. His desk has been replaced with a darker wood and rounded edges. The sofa is new too. By the look on his face as he observes it, I’m not sure he’s a fan.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” I say with a sigh.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
His features are tight, stressed. As they should be. His determination to have this conversation here—where, despite the office being closed, could still be overheard by someone—and not in the privacy of one of our homes is surprising.
But what-the fuck-ever. Let’s get it over with.
He motions toward the chair that faces me. I nod with approval.
He sits gingerly, tugging on the knees of his pants as he unfolds himself in the chair. A grimace sits squarely on his face, and I wonder if he’s been having back problems again.
My old man looks tired. There are creases on his forehead that I don’t recall seeing before. His skin looks weathered and ashen. His appearance dampens the fire that’s been burning inside me since his failure to show up for Rosie’s party.
“What’s going on?” I ask, figuring the question is as good of an icebreaker as anything. It gives him the floor to tell me why he’s here.
He blows out a breath. “How have you been?”
I sit upright. The sudden movements make Dad flinch.
“The last time we spoke,” I say, looking him in the eye, “you told me that your family was a giant inconvenience in your life. So let’s set aside the pleasantries and get to the reason you’re here.”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“That makes you smile?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand you, Pops.”
He scoots in his chair until his back is resting against the leather. He crosses an ankle over the other knee and looks … proud? Relieved? At peace?
“Coy came to see me,” Dad says.
He didn’t tell me. “And Holt? Boone? Wade?” I ask.
“I’ve spoken to all of them briefly.”
“I’m sure a brief conversation really answered their questions.” I lift a brow. “We’re all wondering the same thing.”
He stills. “I know. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I called you the other night. The only things you had to say were either rude, cruel, or inciting.”
He chuckles. He has the audacity to chuckle.
“If you find this funny, you can see your way out,” I say, my jaw tensing. “I’ve had a shitty afternoon, and I don’t really have the patience to deal with you too.”
My gaze flips to Shaye’s closed door.
It’s been a struggle for the last few hours not to pick up the phone or jump in my car and find her. I don’t because … I don’t know what to say.
Do I recant my admission? Do I save face since she didn’t say it back? Do I remove the guilt she might feel for not repeating it back to me?
Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty at all. Why should she if she doesn’t love me?
If only I hadn’t said it at all …
But as the hours pass and I have some space between the most honest moment of my life—saying I love you to the woman who I’m absolutely sure I love—my instincts tell me not to do that.
I do love Shaye. I know I love her because I’ve never felt this way before. Out of all of my relationships, there’s not one person who elevates every level of my life. Of me.
My life has changed in the past few weeks. I smile more. I laugh at more than Boone’s stupidity. I’m happy to set work aside in the evenings to spend time with her.
The idea of not seeing her, not having her around, fills my soul with a dark, heavy cloud.
Every plan I make—from tonight’s dinner to next month’s work trip to Portland—they all include her.
It was one of the reasons that I had her car fixed.
I was concerned for her safety, and I couldn’t shake it.
It mattered. It mattered because she matters.
My thoughts fall to her constantly. I wanted to show her how much more I care than anyone she’s ever known.
My life before made me happy. Contracts, projects, family dinners here and there. But my life now? It’s on a different playing field. I still want to accomplish all of the goals I’ve dreamed of, but I also want to make her life better.
It’s so natural. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. She gives me an opportunity to do even more with my life—with her.
Dad shifts in his seat. I snap out of my thoughts and focus on him again.
“I want to talk to you about something, Ollie.”
There’s no chuckle, no smile this time. There’s nothing but a bead of sweat dotting his forehead.
“Dad?”
My stomach knots. My heart beats hard in my throat. All of my senses are tuned into my father as he sits quietly across from me.
He looks bad. His voice is raspy. His cologne is off, more pungent, and not the usual scent I associate him with.
Suddenly, I’m aware that something is wrong. Something more than Dad being a dick or rude or failing to show up to support his kids.
Something is wrong.
“I need help.” His lips part, and his breathing gets shallow. “I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“What kind of help?”
My mind races a million different directions.
He likes to gamble. Has he gotten into financial trouble? Does he owe someone money? Is he sick? He looks ill. Is he going to prison? Oh, shit.
What did you do, Dad?
He sets both feet on the floor, only to cross them again. He pushes himself to sit taller in the chair.
“Dad?”
“I don’t know how this happened.”
“What? You don’t know how what happened?” A rush of adrenaline kicks in. “Tell me.”
He lowers his head. I think he’s going to cry.
The man in front of me isn’t the strapping CEO that I’ve always known. Overnight, it seems, he’s turned into a frail, scared man.
The scene is hard for me to digest. It’s as if the role of parent has been thrust upon my shoulders. It sits awkwardly between us—the shift in our relationship—but he’s aware of it just as much as I am.
“It started with alcohol …” His shoulders slump. “Around the time of my retirement.”
Oh, fuck.
“I wasn’t ready to quit. Or maybe I was and hadn’t made peace with it.
Hell if I know now.” His voice is broken.
Weak. It ripples with anxiety and mortification at his confession.
“But it was a drink at night, then two, then six or eight with the guys at poker. Then Jim and Jack and then I was telling your mom I was going golfing just to go to distilleries.”
“Dad.”
He shakes his head, still unable to look me in the eye. “It’s not just alcohol now.”
I want to ask him what all he’s into, what pills or substances he’s abusing. That’s obviously what he means. But I’m not sure if it will help … or if it matters.
“I’ve hid it from your mother,” he says. “I don’t have the heart to tell her.”
He raises his head for the first time and looks me in the eye. Tears stream down his cheeks.
“I’ve tried to push her away,” he says, his voice cracking. “In the few moments in the day when I’m not high or out of it, I know what I’m doing to her. I know the things I’ve said—you don’t forget. And the way she looks at me now … I can’t, Ollie. I can’t do it.”
Dammit.
I get to my feet and walk around my desk. My heart fractures as I pull the man who pulled me out of a plethora of situations in my life into a deep hug.
He grips me tight, his body shaking as I hold on to him.
“We can fix this,” I tell him. “We can get you help.”
“You were right the other day. I’m going to hell.”
I look at the ceiling and grimace. “I was just pissed.”
He pulls away from me and wipes his face with the back of his hand. I find a box of tissues on the bar and hand it to him.
Instead of sitting across from him, I sit next to him. It feels like it makes more sense. Like maybe it will help. I don’t fucking know.
No, that’s not right. I have countless memories of my parents sitting beside me during my hardest moments.
Like when my best friend in college fucked me over.
My dad’s comment stayed with me for years.
Your friends might disappoint you, Ollie.
They might even walk away. But your family will always be beside you—no matter what.
Maybe Dad’s forgotten that lately.
“I’m here, Dad. You’re not alone.”
He looks up at me, shocked.
“Family will always stand beside you—no matter what,” I say.
He wipes a tear away and nods. He remembers. “I should’ve been there for Boone lately,” he says, wiping his nose. “Thank God he had you.”
“He’s had all of us, Dad. Not just me.” I sit back in my seat and try to wrap my head around this reality. “And that is because of you.”
His eyes snap to mine as if he needs to hear this. It’s like it’s his only life preserver at the moment. So I throw it to him.
“Why do you think we’re all so close?” I ask him. “Why do you think that we rally around each other? Why do you think we’ve all been so angry that you haven’t been there for Boone? For us?”
He holds his breath.
“Because you taught us that.”
Tears swell in his eyes again.
“It’s what a family does,” I say. “We pick up the pieces for each other. You’re lucky that you have five sons. That’s a lot of hands to clean up messes.”
He grins sadly. “And my five sons are lucky to have their mother.”
We exchange a look that requires no words. A fool could read the room.
“She loves you, you know,” I say softly.
“That just makes it worse. I don’t deserve her.”
My initial reaction is that he’s right. He doesn’t. He’s hurt my mother, and I’ll go to my grave knowing that she didn’t deserve it. But there’s a wiggle of uncertainty that snakes its way through my heart.
Maybe he does.
My father has been an excellent father until recently. He provided, cared, and pushed his sons to achieve things that people only dream of. He loved us too. That was never a question.
He was at our games. Watched practices. Threw the ball with us after games and helped us with our math homework on the weekends. He learned about architecture when Wade became fascinated in middle school and took guitar lessons alongside Coy.
Does the last year or two erase years’ worth of love? Isn’t he a human too?
I look at the man who raised me and watch him gather himself. He’s struggling right now, just like I’ve struggled before. Why do I expect more from him just because he’s my father?
Do I think I’ll have it all figured out at his age?
When I look into the future, my life is clear. It’s me and Shaye, a couple of kids bebopping around the house, and maybe a puppy. The vision sends chills up my spine. That’s exactly what I want. What I have to have. Nothing else will suffice.
But as I watch Pops, I bet that he, too, had his life pictured. And this wasn’t it. He went wrong somewhere, and he deserves the love and support that he’s given us.
“I can’t speak for Mom,” I tell him. “But I’m sure that she’ll listen to you. And I’m sure she would want to help.”
He frowns. “She used to look at me like I hung the moon, Ollie. How do I let her see me like this?”
“It might be better than her just thinking you don’t love her anymore.”
He shrugs as if it doesn’t matter. “I’ve not been there for her. I’ve said things to her that I shouldn’t. Hell, I’ve probably said things that I don’t even remember.”
“Well, that’s for the two of you to handle. And, again, I don’t speak for my mother, but she’s stuck around for a reason.”
“Why, do you think?”
“I honestly don’t know. But there’s hope for you.”
He blinks back tears again. “She’s leaving me. She told me. And when her mind is made up … I can’t blame her.” He grips the armrests. “You’ve treated me better than I deserve. What about your brothers? What do you think they will say?”
I get to my feet and walk to the refrigerator under the bar. I pull out two waters and give one to my dad.
“Holt will understand. He’s levelheaded that way. Coy’s seen a lot of shit like this. He’d be happy to help you. He wants you around to see his son.”
Dad smiles.
“Boone will be fine. The kid is softhearted. It’s probably to his benefit and detriment.”
Dad chuckles. “That boy is something.”
“Something is right.”
I take a drink and look at my father over the bottle. There’s a bit of hope sprinkled in his watery irises, and I’m happy to see it. I’m happy I could help put it there.
I don’t know what this means for our family, but I know we’ll make it through this. It is what families do.
Dad sets his bottle on my desk unopened. He stands.
“I came to see you first because I know you’re the strongest out of my boys,” he says, his voice somber. “You have always had such a good head on your shoulders. You step up. You don’t back down from a challenge.”
My mouth goes dry. “Really?”
“I know that if your mother does leave me that she’ll be fine because she has you to look after her.”
I’ve never been much of a crier but hearing my father share this with me nearly makes tears gather in my eyes. My heart fills with pride.
“I hope that if you ever find a woman who you love, someone like your mother, I’d hope—I hope that you snatch her up. That kind of woman—strong, honest, loyal—is hard to find. Mark my words.”
His words are marked and trigger an immediate thought of Shaye.
I love you.
Her eyes were full of disbelief … and uncertainty. Obviously, she was unsure. Look at the examples of love she’s had in her life.
Shaye is everything my father said. She’s strong and truthful. She’s beautiful and full of grace. She’s a hard worker and loyal—she won’t leave Nate because she promised she’d stick around.
Shaye is the love of my life. Even though she might not realize it yet, she loves me. And if she doesn’t, I’ll love her until she does.
“You’re going to be a great husband and father someday.”
I grin. “Yeah. I will.” I walk around my desk and flick my mouse. “But right now, I need to be a good son to my father. He might’ve tried to fuck up his life, but I’m not going to let him.”
I feel my dad’s gaze on my face as I search for substance abuse centers. I sense the tears falling down his cheeks.
“Thank you, Ollie.”
My hand stills on the keyboard, and I look at him. We still have things to say, fences to mend, but none of that can happen until we jump this hurdle.
And we’re family. We’ll do it together.
“I love you, Pops.”
“I love you, son.”
My fingers fly over the keyboard, but my attention slips to Shaye.
We are family too, my lady. Just you wait and see.