“Ryke…” I start and then stop, not wanting to defend my father. Not now. “I was going to tell you that I started talking to him.”
“When? When I find you in the hospital bleeding from your stomach because you drank?”
My father groans. “You’re not still taking that ridiculous pill.”
Ryke turns on him. “It’s not a fucking joke.”
“It is,” my dad says. “You’re making him soft.”
“Yeah, you made sure he was fucking sharp, didn’t you?”
“Stop, both of you,” I say coldly. “I don’t want to talk about alcohol or Emily.”
“Fine,” my father says and stands to replenish his glass. “What do you do Ryke? Or are you like your mother, gobbling up all my money on furniture and clothes?”
“How about we leave my mother, the woman you fucking cheated on, out of the conversation as well.”
“Forgive me if I don’t like the bitch,” he says. “I always wanted you two to meet, and becauseIwanted it, she could barely tolerate the idea. And here you are, closer than ever. It’s as if it was always meant to be.” He grins, as if he set fate into motion.
“It wasn’t your doing,” Ryke refutes. “I didn’t meet Lo because of you. I met him because I wanted to.”
My father rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t ever win with you. Ever since you asked me some silly goddamn question and you didn’t like the answer.”
“I wasfifteen,” Ryke sneers. “I just found out I had a brother. I felt lied to and cheated on. I needed your compassion and you fucking spit in my face. But I guess I should have known better.”
“You didn’t need compassion.” My father grimaces at the word. “You needed the truth, and I gave it to you. It’s not my fault you were too weak to handle it.”
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask, hesitating. Maybe I shouldn’t know. But I hate being in the dark.
My father is quick to answer. “Ryke asked me a simple question that day. Would you like to tell him, Ryke?”
“Fuck you,” Ryke sneers.
“I suppose not.” He takes a small sip from his drink, smacking his lips before he continues. “He asked me if I could take back the day that I fucked your mother—take back havingyou—would I?”
My throat goes dry, not expecting that. I think I know his answer. Because even in his hatred, his bigotry andvileness—there is one fact that my father has never let me question.
He loves me.
And it’s a fucked up love. Ryke is right. It does mess with my head. And it’s something I have so much trouble walking away from. Sometimes I don’t want to. Other times, it’s all I dream about.
My father’s eyes hold this unbridled clarity, unwavering from mine, the haziness of his drink gone to honesty. “I told Ryke that I would do it all over again. I have zero regrets, in this lifetime or the next.”
Zero regrets.
That’s what I pick out from that.Zero regrets.Not even when he grabbed me by the neck, not when he called me a shitty fuck at ten years old. Not when he made me feel like I was never good enough to be his son.Zero regrets.
Right.
No one says anything more at first. Ryke is probably worried that I resent him. He wished I wasn’t alive. But truth is, I kind of did too. Until I looked at Lily. Until I talked to her. I don’t think I could have survived this life without that girl.
I redirect the conversation to Hale Co., which my father only likes to discuss in small quantities. The company took a minor hit in comparison to Fizzle, but he’s still working on launching a new baby product. Something about cribs. It’s ironic that the world’s worst dad has a fortune from baby things, but since it was my grandfather’s business first, it makes the irony less valid. Unless he was an alcoholic asshole too.
The burgers arrive when he says, “This marriage helps Fizzle, but do you know what would really benefit Hale Co.?”
Ryke freezes, the lettuce falling out of his bun.
I must be slower because I don’t get it. “What?”
