“HA. Are you shitting me?” Jackson’s eyes widened and an unexpected laugh escaped his mouth. “You have nothing to be proud of me for, Dad. Not yet.”
It was clear he had remorse for the mistakes he’d made. That he didn’t see what I saw—his willingness to take accountability.
“I do. You’ve come a long way in a short time. You know what you did wrong. You returned a lot of the money. You’re going to therapy. You’ve heard everyone out and have taken fault for your mistakes. You’ve done it all on your own without anyone having to push you in that direction.” I stood up and moved to the couch across from mine where he was sitting.
As I took a seat next to him, I rested my hand on his back, and added, “It may have been one hell of a rollercoaster to get here the last twenty-four years, but you’re here now. Just like you said, there isn’t anything you can do about the past. It’s all up from here.” I patted his back reassuringly.
He turned his head to look at me, our misty eyes connecting. And as I pulled Jackson in for a hug, for the very first time, I felt like a goddamn father. After years of missing out on times when I could comfort my son, right his wrongs, teach him a lesson, or give him sound advice, I’d finally felt like it wasn’t too late for us.
It may have taken a hell of a lot of money, a crime or two, and his loss becoming my gain, to get to this point. But the important part was that we were here. We made it.
“Any last words?”Spencer nodded to Ol’ Red, hitched to the back of a tow truck.
Pool season had passed, and with all the extra time off, I’d finally come around to the idea of selling my old home on wheels.
The truth was, weeks ago I’d come out here and packed up the rest of my things—not that there had been much. With each box that I filled, a wave of memories rushed through me. Some good. Mostly bad. But at the end of the day, Ol’ Red had been my home.
This hunk of metal was a landing spot for me. A security blanket. A roof over my head, and as a kid, most nights, it was my saving grace.
“No last words.” I smiled, knowing that a huge part of my past was seconds from driving away—any thoughts or feelings I had were going along with it.
Spencer nodded at the driver, and we both watched as Ol’ Red passed us by. With my old home in the rearview, and Spencer by my side, it didn’t take long to realize I was perfectlyfine letting the last piece of my past go if it meant the man next to me would be my new safe space to land.
Home wasn’t always meant to be a place. Spencer was my home now.
Off to the side, Spencer’s driver waited for us to finish up. Now that I’d committed to giving up my “just in case this didn’t work out” van, his driver would take us back to the place we both called home.
“Ready for family dinner?” Spencer smirked.
“More than ready. It’s taco night—my favorite.”
A few months ago, Spencer brought up the idea of family dinners. It was a way to start bringing Jax into our lives together. A way we could comingle with both of our sets of friends that we considered family.
For us, family dinner became a nonnegotiable every Sunday night. While one person here or there may not be able to make it some weeks, it was always a place for us to gather and eat. To catch up on each other’s lives and tell stories. Stories about our days, or maybe a memory from our past—we talked about it all. Something I’d never experienced as a kid but loved to be able to experience with Spencer by my side.
He was raised in a traditional Italian household. While they had all the best pastas you could dream of, our family dinners were more ofourstyle.
Each week we picked a new cuisine, and Spencer would hire a private chef to cook us the best of the best. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time we’d done tacos. I think Spencer knew from the first night we had them, tacos had to be a monthly occurrence because I loved them so much.
Once we arrived back home, we got cleaned up, stuffed my boxes from my van away to deal with later, and set the table. Our friends and family would be arriving any minute now.
When the elevator doors dinged, indicating an arrival, I popped my head around the corner to greet our guest.
Jax was first, along with his girlfriend, Sasha.
“Hey, so glad you both could make it!” I offered a quick hug to them both.
“Always happy to be here.” Jax smiled, grabbing a hold of his girlfriend’s hand, guiding her to the kitchen.
The elevator doors opened once more with my two best friends entering next.
“Girl, you look so good,” I squealed, my jaw dropping at Andi’s short dress—only in Nevada could you wear a cocktail dress in the winter without freezing your tits off.
Andi wrapped me in her arms, rocking me back and forth, giving me a longer hug than normal.
“What’s got this one so giddy?” I eyed Peyton from over Andi’s shoulder.
“Oh, maybe something to do with her not coming home last night after work—or for the last few weeks, for that matter. And every time I catch her texting, she has that crazy look in her eyes like she’s totally gone for the person on the other end of the screen. Oh, and—" Andi broke our hug to slap a hand over Peyton’s mouth.
