"Yeah,"I whisper, too soft for anyone to hear."Always."
Chapter 20
RYLAN
Iturn the rental car onto the street where I grew up, and my chest tightens as my childhood home comes into view. The white paint is peeling, and the garden is overgrown again, even though Dad promised he'd be better at keeping up with it. All this neglect started after Mom died, and she would be some pissed off if shesawthe place now. She loved this little house.
I've offered countless times to buy Dad a new place, but he refuses to let me. This is where he raised his family, where Nick and I learned to skate in the backyard rink, where Mom tended her garden."The only way I'm leaving this house is in a pine box,"he always says.
Of course, my NHL salarycouldfix everything about this house except what's truly broken: the people inside it.
The key sticks in the lock like always, and as I step inside, I'm hit by thesmellof stale beer with an underlying layer of musty neglect. It breaks my heart, but if I think too long about it, I'll break down before I lay eyes on my dad. So instead I square my shoulders and walk down the hallway that's lined with old family pictures. Back from when we were an actual family.
The living room is dim despite the morning sun streaming in. Dad's in his ancient armchair, but he's not passed out, thank god. Constable Mitchell texted me about an hour ago to tell me he was released from the health clinic, and he got his wife, Karen, to bring Dad home andgethim settled. I make a mental note to send them an incredible thank-you gift because, without their kindness, things would be a whole lot worse.
Dad's leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, the white bandage above his eyebrow standing out in the low light.
"Dad?"My voice comes out steadier than Ifeel."It's Rylan."
He opens his bloodshot eyes, and the shame in them catches me off guard. His expression isn't filled with anger and defiance like it usually is after an incident like this. It's just raw humiliation and naked pain.
"Hi, son." His expression is defeated. "You heard what happened." It's not a question, but I nod anyway.
"Yeah. Wally called me. And I talked to Dave Mitchell a couple of times. Sounds likeit wasa rough night." I move to open the curtains, but Dad raises a hand to stop me.
"Leave them."He swallows hard."My head's killing me."
I raise an eyebrow."Did they give you any painkillers at the clinic?"
He gives me a sad smile."Just some Tylenol last night. But I deserve tofeellike shit. I deserve tofeela lot fucking worse than I do."
Something's different about his tone. The usual bitter edge is missing, replaced by something more like resignation. Maybe it's the concussion, but this is new behavior from him. Normally, he'd be making excuses and playing the victim, blaming everyone else for whatever bad things happened while he was wasted.
I settle into my mom's old reading chair, and we're quiet for a long moment."When I fell,"he says finally."Wally tried to helpme, but I was pissed because he told me he'd called the cops. I…"His voice cracks."I tried to fight him. Started swinging. At Wally Nelson, of all people. The only friend I've got left in this town after Paul and Jenny left..."
He touches the bandage gently, then shakes his head slowly.
"Doctor said I was lucky.Could've been a lot worse.Could've..."He trails off, but Ihearthe words he doesn't say.Could've died.
"Dad—"
"I saw your mother," he cuts me off, voice rough.
I blink at him.Oh shit. Is he having delusions now?"Um, what?"
He chuckles sadly at the expression on my face, and my stomach twists."It's okay, Rylan, I'm not losing my mind. Yet."He sighs."Iknowshe wasn't reallythere. But when I hit my head, I swear to god, she was standing in front of me just as clear as day. And the look on her face..."He closes his eyes."She was so goddamn disappointed in me."His hands shake slightly."Igetthat it wasn't real, but…"he hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing."Youknowhow people talk about loved ones visiting them in dreams? Well, that's never happened to me. When your mom and Nick died, they were just gone for me. It didn't take very long before I couldn't remember what they looked like. I couldn't picture their faces, or remember the sound of their voices. I had pictures, but I couldn'tseethem in my head anymore...if that makes sense."
I think about that. It's a little odd, but I guess I didn't experience it like he's describing. When I think about it now, I can still imagine my mom's smile, orhearthe way Nick used to laugh when he teased me.
"Anyway, I just… It's been twenty years since we lost them, and the first time I'm able to actually "see" your mom, she'slooking at me like she can't decide whether to break down in tears, or strangle me for being such a fool."
A snort of laughter escapes me because I remember that look of my mom's. When she looked at us like that, weknewshit was about togetreal.
"Twenty years, Rylan. I've spent all these years trying to drink away the pain of losing them, and all I've done is waste the time I have left with the son I still have."
My throat tightens."It's okay, Dad, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do."He meets my eyes directly for the first time, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, he seems clear and focused."I need help, son. Real help. Before I drink myself into the ground and leave you with nothing but ghosts."
