“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual,” Max grumbled.
His father gave him a look that said,So don’t fuck it up. But then his expression softened. “I can see that, too. Your mother would have liked her.”
Max said nothing. Instead, he focused his gaze on the way Natasha’s hair glittered in the candlelight.
“Your speech was compelling,” said his father. “Thank you.”
“You pushed me into this position,” said Max dryly. “I’m not sure a thanks is in order.”
Max pulled his gaze away from Natasha, and to his complete surprise, his father’s mouth twitched up into a crooked smile. A new record of two smiles in one day.
“I was giving you a good reason to step up and take your place,” he said.
“I’m doing it for Mum’s sake.”
Across the room, Natasha was still talking to TJ. Was his brother making a move on her? Hell, no.
“I need to check on Natasha,” he said, not even glancing in his father’s direction.
“Son, hear me out.” Something about the wordsonkept Max in place. How many years had it been since his father had used that term? Not since he had been a boy had he felt like Deacon Jensen, Jr.’s son, and he had been pretty sure the feeling was mutual. But the way his father said it put a crack in the wall that had stood between them.
Max shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants. “I’m listening.”
“From the beginning, this was for you, Max,” he said, gesturing to the room. “The cancer center, everything. Your mother wanted you to be the one to carry on her legacy. She was afraid—” His father’s voice broke, startling Max out of his Natasha-induced stupor. His gaze jerked over to his father, and he froze. There were so few times in his life that Deacon Jensen, Jr. had ever showed visible emotion. His father’s jaw twitched as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Your mother was afraid you’d split from the family forever. I promised her I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Max took an unsteady breath. His mother hadn’t asked him to promise that, but she had asked his father.
“Why didn’t you do more for her in the end?” said Max.
His father flinched. “Maybe it wasn’t enough, and Lord knows I’m not an easy man. But I tried to help her the best way I knew how.”
“How can you say that? She left everything for you. She left her career and Sydney for a station in the middle of Western Australia,” said Max, not hiding any of his bitterness. “I know, she always said she wanted to leave Sydney, too, but even at the end? The best place for another round of chemo was here.”
Pain shattered the stoic composure of his father’s face. He opened his mouth, hesitating, as if he were debating whether or not to speak. His father, who never hesitated. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Max, your mother absolutely insisted on staying at the station. It wasn’t my choice.”
Max blinked, taking in his father’s words.
“I respected her wishes,” he said softly. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Max. But the chances the doctors gave her weren’t worth it for her. Not compared to the trade-offs.”
“You could have begged her,” Max said, shaking his head slowly.
“I could have.” The loss was written all over his father’s face, but he continued. “Max, your mother didn’t want to spend her last months feeling so awful that she couldn’t spend time with her family. She wanted us to spend the time together, not focusing on false hope.”
“She never said that to me,” said Max.
“Because she didn’t want to spend the time she had left debating it. And the truth is that her last month, when you came home, was one of the best of our lives. Both of ours. Even though you barely spoke to me.” The affection in his father’s gaze was surprising.
“How the hell can you say that? All those years you rode me so hard, like I was the fuck-up of the family. Like you couldn’t wait for me to move far away.”
His father blinked at him, and then his face broke out into a smile, warm and genuine. “Max, you were a fucking pain in the ass as a teenager. You didn’t listen for shit to me and you fought with your brother nonstop. Of course I rode you hard.”
Then his father had the nerve to laugh. “If I hadn’t taken your car away, you would have gotten half the town pregnant. Instead, you got yourself into Princeton.”
“We both know that I got into Princeton because of the library you donated,” muttered Max. “No one on campus missed that.”
The amusement on his father’s face disappeared.
“No, Max. I didn’t make that donation until after you were admitted,” he said slowly. “Look, I know our family name carries weight, and it’s impossible to know how much just being a Jensen influenced your ticket in the door, at Princeton or anywhere else. But it’s what you do with that ticket that counts. And you proved that you belonged there beyond a doubt.”
