“And did you?” I ask. “Create something that made abandoning me worth it?”
My dad flinches. Perhaps my tone is harsher than necessary, but fuck it, I’m not holding back. This isyearsof abandonment issues that I’m going to make sure he gets all the credit for.
“I’ve built something, yes. Was it worth leaving you behind? Of course not, Vox. And I’m so fucking sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am. The only excuse I have is that I was a twenty-year-old kid myself, and I fucked a lot of shit up. If I could go back, I’d have packed you up, and we’d have followed your mom. But I wasn’t the man then that I am now.”
“Where is my mother?” I ask impatiently.
“I wish I knew. I had hoped she’d reached out and found you on her own.”
I shake my head. “Haven’t heard a word.” My dad’s lip quivers as he deals with the loss all over again, and I change the subject. “Tell me about Grey.”
“I came back to try to visit with you once when you were about twelve. My mother and I were still in contact then, and she told me you had just signed with Patterson about six months prior. I was so fucking proud of you. She also told me that unless I planned to stick around this time, I shouldn’t bother coming back at all because it would only hurt you worse when I left again. My company was just getting off the ground, and I knew I couldn’t stay, so I took her advice, and I didn’t come.
“Not until my mother died, at least. You were eighteen then and didn’t need a parent the same way you did when youwere six. I thought maybe I’d do a better job since keeping you alive was no longer part of the gig. I had convinced myself that maybe we could start again as friends since I had fucked the wholedadthing up pretty badly. But when I tried to talk to you after the funeral, you were whisked away before I could reach you.” His nostrils flare, and his jaw clenches in anger the longer he talks. “It was easy enough to find you on social media, but it didn’t take long for me to realize your accounts were being managed by someone else. Every account I made and messaged from was blocked before the message had even been read. I’ve been at almost every professional boarding event you’ve competed in, and every time I try to get a message to you, some fucking Patterson goon blocks my access.”
“Why would he do that?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“You’ve made Grey Patterson a very rich man, Vox. Richer than you probably know. My best guess is he saw me as a threat. Like perhaps if we rekindled our relationship, you’d choose to come with me and abandon Patterson Performance.”
“You think it was just about money? It couldn’t possibly be that he didn’t trust you not to hurt me?” I fire.
“That’s probably part of it, but shouldn’t that have been foryouto decide? What kind of person keeps a man from his own son, especially after that son is an adult capable of making his own decisions? If you had told me that you hated my guts and never wanted to see me again, I would’ve understood. I would’ve left you alone. But Grey never gave you your options. He made the choice for both of us by refusing to tell you I was trying. I’m not perfect, Vox. I deserve your rage, but I’mbeggingfor a chance at redemption.”
When my dad stops talking to wait for my reply, I twirl my near-empty glass in my hands. Fuck, I’m terrible at processing, but I suppose he has a point. I would have liked to have known my dad had come back.
A thought occurs to me, and suddenly I’m pissed. Likereallyfucking pissed.
What if my dad hadn’t run into Connor? What if he had stopped trying to get to me, and I’d spent another twenty years thinking he didn’t care? What if I’d retired, taken a job with Patterson, and never known that Grey had isolated me like this? Had he stopped my mom from gaining access to me as well?
As if thinking those things summoned the devil himself, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Grey.
I place the phone on the table so everyone can see the name.
“Do I answer it?”
“That’s totally up to you,” my dad says. “It’s time your ball was in your court.”
I swipe the phone to answer, putting it on speakerphone, letting my anger and confusion make the choice for me.
“Hello?”
“What the hell are you doing in Rainersville, Vox? You’re supposed to be resting. Interestingly, I can’t find Coach Lang either. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
Immediately, I wonder how I’ve missed Grey’s condescending tone all this time. Has it always been like this? His tone is so fucking accusatory, like he actually thinks he owns me. Like I’m still that little kid he found that needed him to call all the shots.
I guess until Connor, I was.
But not anymore.
I make eye contact with my dad first, who nods his head in a clear message:Say whatever you want.Then I look at Connor, who nods as well.
“I’m in Rainersville having a drink with my dad. And Idoknow where Connor is. He’s sitting right next to me, holdingmy hand as I learn the truth about how you’ve kept me from my father.”
There’s so much more I could say, but I cut myself off, waiting to see how Grey is going to play this.
His silence speaks volumes.
