And with that, the floodgates open. I slide to the floor and drop my head to the cool mahogany cabinets, completely losing myself. My shoulders shake with the weight of my own choices. I’ve never fallen apart like this before, but it’s like something’s detonated in my chest.
I don’t know why it took me this long to realize it. I made the wrong choice six years ago, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.
“Listen to me.” JT kneels beside me and places a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll probably take time for you to figure out what to do from here. It might take Ash some time too. But you have another chance. It might not feel like it right now because it’s still fresh, but this is your opportunity. Fuck the past six years. Fuck the mistakes. You have a kid. I won’t pretend to be father of the year, but I wouldn’t give mine up for the world. I know you just found out about her, but I think that’s what you’re saying. So, don’t. Don’t give her up. Figure out your shit, man up, and be her fucking dad. She’s five. There’s still plenty of time.”
That feels like a punch straight to the gut.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Feeling the weight of everything that happened today crash down on me, I let out a long breath.
How bad I wished I’d just died that night!
Her words keep ringing in my ears, making me feel like I might throw up.
In trying to protect her, I did more damage than that bullet did. I’m the reason she got to that place, not the club, not Tony.
Me.
“How the hell am I supposed to fixthis?”
“Not running off every time someone tells you some shit you need to hear would be a good start.”
My eyes narrow.
He picks up a busted bottle from the ground and puts it on the bar. “All jokes aside, you should probably sober up and cool off before you fuck anything else up.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “I was a dick to her earlier.”
“Yeah… You’ve been a dick all day, bud.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Is she still here?”
I shrug.
“Alright, go get cleaned up. You look like you got in a bar fight with Jack Daniels.” He holds out a hand to help me up and gestures toward the door. “Then, I’ll drive you over there and we’ll find out.”
37
ASH
AUGUST 6 YEARS AGO
Today’s my follow-up appointment with my family doctor. I’m just ready for all of this to be over. My leg still hurts, but it’s not so bad if I’m not standing. Since I’ve barely left my room, that’s not a problem.
I’m so tired, and when I’m not tired, I’m crying. I cry so hard I make myself sick. For the most part, my mom leaves me be with the exception of the therapy appointments she insisted on. I hate therapy. The lady just makes me talk about everything that happened over and over again like I don’t relive it every night when I fall asleep.
Like I don’t see Akers every time I close my eyes.
So now I’m sitting in a packed waiting room, looking like I just rolled out of bed because I actually did just roll out of bed. My eyes are red and puffy, and my head is pounding.
“Ashton Michaels,” the Nurse says.
Standing, I adjust my crutches and hobble away from where my mom sits to follow the nurse into the office.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
