I hesitated, weighing my options. It’d be easier just to leave and go book a hotel somewhere. I didn’t know if I could process the last eight hours under that roof. If I went in right now, I’d inevitably get into a fight with my dad.
I knew it was selfish, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to get away—at least for a little bit. “There’s something I have to do. Tell Ma I’ll be home later, but don’t say anything about me having a son, k?” I added, my brow furrowing. “I’ll tell them myself, soon.”
“Okay,” Connor said softly before slipping out of the Porsche. She paused before closing the door. I waited until she’d walked up the porch steps before I turned on the car and pulled away from the curb.
With no destination in mind, I started driving around aimlessly. Through familiar streets and jogging memories I hadn’t thought of in years, none of them easing the guilt and turmoil I felt clogging up my heart.
I ended up at Hirtle’s Beach. Pulling the obnoxious vehicle into a parking spot, I killed the ignition and grabbed my leather jacket, my keys and my phone.
Opening the door, I stepped out. Bracing against the chilly wind, I pulled on my jacket, removing the hat I’d shoved in the deep pocket and tucking my phone and keys inside before I started toward the boardwalk.
Gramps and Nan used to take Connor and me here during the summer, and it was one of the first places I’d brought Harper to when I found out she was new in town.
It was one of my favourite places. It didn’t matter what time of day or year I went. There was always something sacred about being there. I found solace in it, the way some would find peace in a church pew.
It had been a long time since I’d found that kind of solace. I didn’t deserve it, not really, but clarity on the situation wouldn’t come if I continued to stew in the regret. I knew it wouldn’t be found at the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels, either.
I tugged the hat on and zipped up my jacket, my footsteps echoing dully against the wooden boardwalk. I didn’t pass anyone on my way in, but there were a few people spread out along the three kilometers of white sandy beach. None of them were close enough to make out my face; and none of them were even interested in who I was or why I was there.
It was refreshing.
My boots sunk into the white sand as I strolled out to the rolling surf. Damp sand clung to the bottom of my jeans, the cold seeping through to nip at my ankles. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back, breathing in the fresh sea air, listening to the waves’ symphony.
A moment later, I opened my lids and looked out toward the sea. The sun was setting, painting the horizon in breathtaking splashes of yellow and orange.
Transported to another night, I remember watchingherthe first time she experienced a sunset at Hirtle’s Beach.
Harper’s face jumped to the forefront of my memory. The intricate braid she’d worn that day, the way she had looked at me—the way it felt to touch her, to bring my lips to hers for the first time.
She fit like a puzzle piece I hadn’t known I was even missing, and I’d ripped her from my life, leaving that space pointedly vacant.
With my silence, I made her believe that everything we’d felt for one another had been a lie. I told myself she was better off, and maybe she was—but I had no right to make that call for the both of us. I was just too afraid she wouldn’t choose me; too afraid she’d see that I was unworthy and selfish.
I was both of those things; unworthyandselfish.
Seeing her today solidified the painful truth that I’ve always known; she would have chosen me, she would have chosen us, and if I hadn’t left the way I had—if I hadn’t broken off all contact…
But I had. Now I had to figure out how to repair all the damage I had caused; damage that went so much further than breaking the heart of the woman I’d loved.
It was years of missing out on an entire person, a person I had created. I’d managed to fuck up more in fatherhood than my own father, and if I wasn’t careful, I would drown in the disgust of that knowledge.
Be here now. It was simple, but it was also the hardest pill I would ever have to swallow. I would need to dig myself out of the ashes of the past, and it wasn’t going to be easy.
I stood, watching the sky slowly darken, listening to the surf’s roar, pondering my next steps. We had one more show before our tour ended, but I couldn’t board that plane. I couldn’t walk away from them again, especially not now.
My phone rang shrilly in my pocket, and I fished it out quickly, glancing at the caller ID. Dare’s name flashed, and I answered, saying nothing for a moment. I knew he could hear the surf.
“Cal? It’s Dare.”
“I know.”
“We haven’t heard from you in a couple of days—is everything okay, man?” he questioned.
“Not really,” I chuckled, almost bitterly.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Dare said. I could hear the disbelief and sorrow in his voice.
“It’s not that, well. It’s that, but it’s more. I fucked up, Dare.” I sighed.
