Chapter 20 #3
He turned on the oven light and peered inside. The crust wasn’t quite brown enough, so he sat with his dad at the table.
“Glad you got the rabbit.” His dad watched him carefully. “She seems to be settling in all right.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He neatened a few stacks of books.
Moved the salt and pepper shakers closer together.
“Cady gave me some color on Birdie’s past. I guess her mom worked a few jobs, so she relied on a lot of different sitters.
After her mom died, the boyfriend didn’t know what to do with her.
Most days, he left her in daycare long after closing, so they had to kick her out. ”
His dad winced.
“After a few months of that, he handed her off to Cady, who brought her to me.” He picked at a smudge of grape jelly. “And now, I’m about to hand her off to a nanny.”
“Well, no, you’re taking her on the road with you. Isn’t that what you decided?”
“Come on. You know, once the season starts, the team owns my time.”
“Okay, but she’ll be close. You can check in on her. Spend whatever free time you have together.”
“I don’t know if that’ll be enough. I can give her all the things I didn’t have as a kid, but that’s not going to make me a dad.”
His dad tensed. “What didn’t you have?”
They’d never had this conversation. After his dad’s income had steadied, he’d been able to spend more time with them. Eventually, he’d moved them out of the club, and they’d finally had structure, routines. Slowly, over time, their guards had come down, and they’d grown into a tight family.
He didn’t want to hurt his dad. He certainly didn’t want to make him feel bad about a past he’d had little control over, but it was the truth, and he couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.
“Clothes that fit. Food. A ride home from a track meet. But I’ve been giving her all of that, and it hasn’t made me a dad.
And tonight, when she hugged me because I ‘found’ her rabbit, it just drove it home.
A dad’s the guy who shows up. The one you count on.
The one who stays.” And then, to lighten the mood, he added, “A dad’s the guy who still loves you after you drive his car into a tree. ”
His dad pointed a finger. “And that was after you were grounded for coming home after curfew.”
“Yeah.” Decker chuckled. “Sorry about that. But my point is, he’s the guy who’s there no matter what. And let’s be real, who does Birdie have? Who’s going to be there for her? Because it won’t be me.”
“Parents show up in all kinds of ways. There’s not just one way to be a father.”
“Once the season starts, I have to be all in. I can’t split my focus.” He picked up the saltshaker and swung it like a metronome. He wished his dad had a solution that would relieve him of the impossible pressure. “She deserves so much more than I can give her.”
His dad nodded slowly. “I moved here with a newborn and three kids under six.”
Decker’s understanding of that had always been more conceptual. It was taking on a whole new meaning right then.
“I never finished my MBA,” his dad went on.
“So, the job I’d lined up fell apart when I didn’t get my degree.
” He set his arms on the table, leaning in.
“After your mom died, I had to find work. Anything. I thought I’d grind it out, get us stable, then come back and be the dad you needed.
” He looked away. “I learned pretty quick it doesn’t work like that. ”
The smell of pie filled the kitchen. It was warm, pure comfort. And yet, hearing the reality of the situation from a man who’d lived it plucked at his nerves, making his body vibrate with fear.
Tell me more.
Help me make sense of this.
“People like to say kids are resilient, but that’s bullshit,” his dad said.
“They’re not rolling with the punches. They’re interpreting them in a way that sticks with them the rest of their lives.
By the time I moved us into the house and had more time for my boys, you were eight, and it was too late. You were already changed.”
“Changed?”
“Oh, yeah. You were my little observer. Nothing got past your notice.” He grinned.
“I remember one day I came home after an interview with an HR guy who pointed out the spit-up on my suit jacket—didn’t get the job, by the way.
All the guys were out back having a barbecue, and I went to my room at the club.
There I was, sitting on my bed feeling sorry for myself, when you toddled in with your big blue eyes.
You hugged me, one hand around my neck, the other clutching that little red Matchbox car you carried everywhere. ”
He had an instant visual of the black rubber wheels and yellow flames on either side of it. “I remember that car.”
“I never forgot the way you patted my shoulder. You read me, Deck. You were four fuckin’ years old, and you knew your dad was down.
” His dad nodded, as if impressed. “It was something. You were sensitive and looked out for everyone’s feelings.
When they messed with Wyatt, Jude threw punches.
But you gave him your candy. You let him sleep in your bed. You were a good, sweet kid.”
“And then I became an asshole?” Decker laughed, but he actually wanted to know.
“Nah, you were always good. But I lost you as soon as you found sports. You became a fanatic. It was always about how fast you could run, how many touchdowns you scored. The next record you wanted to beat.”
“Yeah, it was good for me to have a focus.”
“I’m sure it was. But your drive took over, and that sensitive little boy was gone.”
He could see that. And he sure as hell didn’t want that to happen to Birdie.
“I figured it was good for you. It’d give you some friends, but you never brought anyone home.”
“I didn’t have time for that.” If he didn’t get good grades, he’d lose his starting position, and he wouldn’t get recruited to the right college.
“Sure, but I figured, at some point, it’d balance out. A best friend. A girlfriend. Someone you could be close to. Even now, your teammates aren’t friends.”
He got along great with the guys. But he didn’t bother saying it out loud because it wasn’t what his dad was talking about.
He got along, sure. But he kept them at arm’s length.
“I realized the other day, when I was a kid, I couldn’t control much.
Whether there was food in the fridge. Whether somebody picked me up.
But sports…” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
“Sports made sense. If I worked harder, I got better.”
“I get that.” Though it looked like it was tough for his dad to hear. “You learned pretty young that the only person you could count on was yourself.”
But there was a time he’d longed for that kind of closeness. “I guess I never met anybody I wanted to be that close to.”
“Until Willa?”
“What?” He hadn’t told anyone about their relationship. Why would he say that?
“You think I buy you choosing to stay at the inn instead of with your family? Besides, we all saw it at the wedding. The way you two looked at each other.” His dad pinched his fingers together and let them fly open. “Sparks were flying like the Fourth of July.”
He wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah, okay. Sure, I like her.” A lot. “But it’s not going anywhere.”
“So, you finally find someone who matters, and you’ll just walk away?”
“Well, it’s not like I want to.” I’d do just about anything to keep her. “But I have Birdie now, and if I try to split myself three ways, no one will win. And Willa deserves a hell of a lot more than a third of me.”
“Let me tell you something, son. I lost the love of my life a long time ago.” His dad’s eyes flared, and his cheeks turned dark pink. “Love like that doesn’t come around twice. If you’re lucky enough to get it, you hold on with both hands, and you don’t fuckin’ let go.”
Decker didn’t think he’d ever seen his dad so worked up. But honestly, he understood. Because every word his dad said stirred the not-so-secret pot where he kept his feelings for her until they were swirling and taking form, making it impossible to contain them.
“Love’s a choice,” his dad said. “Life’ll give you a million reasons to walk away—trust me on that. But when you find the right person, you fight like hell for her. And don’t use Birdie as an excuse. That girl needs Willa every bit as much as you do.”
“You’re giving me words, Dad. But I know the reality of my life, and there’s not a chance in hell I can do my job, give Birdie what she needs, and try to make a long-distance relationship work.”
“You want a game plan, I get it. But there isn’t one.
You’re gonna have to make it up as you go along.
And ultimately, the things that matter stay, and the things that don’t fall away.
But you take a good look at your future, and you figure out what it’ll look like without Willa.
If it works for you, then sure, don’t drag her along.
But if you can’t stand the idea of not being with her, then you make it work. ”
It stirred him up. He wanted to believe what his dad was saying. But his dad didn’t understand the life of a starting quarterback. “Things were a hell of a lot simpler a week ago.”
“Yeah, but were they better?”
Before Willa?
“No.”
“Our experiences are different,” his dad said. “I lost the love of my life, and you might’ve found yours. The only thing I can tell you is, what you do now matters. I learned that with you boys. Thinking I could build a bond with my kids after neglecting them for so long didn’t work.”
“We’re close with you now.”
“Sure. But Jude spent half his life on the road. Alone. Wyatt’s in an Airstream, and Boone’s never had a girlfriend. The wounds of your childhoods made it hard for you boys to trust anyone. And if I had it to do over again, I’d make different choices. I’d make loving my boys my highest priority.”
“And how would you have made a living? We’d never have left the clubhouse.”
“But that’s not your issue, is it? You have enough money to last you ten lifetimes. Again, I can’t tell you what to do. Your situation isn’t mine. I’m only telling you that what you do today matters.”
Birdie’s face flashed in his mind—her arms around his neck, her voice soft against his chest. You got my fifi.
“We don’t know what Birdie’s first three years were like,” his dad continued. “We can’t fix that. But we can influence the rest.”
The words landed right in the center of his chest, causing a seismic shift in his body.
Decker stared at the saltshaker, his fingers going still. The kitchen felt too quiet now, the hum of the refrigerator loud in the space between them, the smell of pie suddenly too sweet.
He drew in a slow, practiced breath, the way he’d been trained to calm himself. Only it didn’t work. Because for the first time, he understood exactly what being her father meant.
And exactly what it was going to cost him.