Page 99 of Hard to Score

His chuckle is a low rumble that tells me he’s not buying my excuse and honestly, I wouldn’t either.

“Did you think I’d be mad at you?” he asks.

“No.” The word comes out way too fast and I follow it up with a shrug, a long stare into my coffee, and then, “I don’t know.”

“It would be a shame and horribly unfair for someone else to hold all of the mistakes I’ve made in my life against one of my daughters.” My eyes find his. They see compassion, lack of judgment, and hurt. “I’d hate that you’d think I’d do something of a similar nature.”

I nod and hate that tears fill my eyes. “He thinks you were a part of it or at fault for whatever happened to his dad.”

“He’s told you that?”

“No, but it’s been hinted at.”

“And you’ve hidden your relationship with him because you’re afraid if I was at fault, I’d be upset.” The statement is made as if he’s trying to figure out my train of thought.

“I know you didn’t do anything. You never would.”

“And yet you questioned it.”

I don’t respond but just meet his stare as my cheeks heat with shame.

“Gary Bowman was my closest friend. He was like my brother. All I can tell you, Brex, is that I know the character of the man I once knew. I know he loved his family with everything he had and loved his sport just as much. When the news came out that he was suspected of throwing a game, I was just as shocked as everyone else. Your mom and I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t believe it. But when he walked away without a word, I feared it was true. Whatever he did, he had to have a reason he felt that justified it.”

I chew my bottom lip. “Then why does Drew think you were involved somehow?”

“Maybe it was easier for Gary to put blame on me. To salvage whatever relationship he could with his son, because that was more important than anything.”

“Doesn’t that infuriate you?” I ask.

“I’m simply speculating, honey, but if there’s one thing I learned from being a parent, it’s this: before you have kids, you swear up one side and down the other that you’d never do this or that . . . but when you’re staring down an uncertain future and worried about the well-being of your children, worried you’re going to lose them in some way or another—grief, anger, whatnot—sometimes you do or say things without thinking. In the moment, all you can think about is not losing that person too.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that tells me he just might understand that feeling. Each of us went through stages of grief after our mom died. There was never a time when we were on the same page with the stage of grief we were in. As our father was trying to keep our family from imploding, he must have felt like a firefighter putting different fires out on a daily basis. Doing anything to help us while processing his own loss at the same time.

His words hit me hard. As a kid, I never thought twice about how we were taken care of, but now as an adult, I can only imagine that it must have been exhausting.

I stare at my father with so much love in my heart and wish Drew could see him for the incredible man I see him as.

“Can you talk to him, Dad? Can you explain that all to him? I mean—”

“No.” He stops me with his soft smile and gentle voice. “It’s not my place to step in between the relationship of a father and a son.”

“But it’s wrong. It’s—”

“Who am I to Drew, honey? I’m no one but an old memory. If he’s going to figure out the truth it has to be on his own accord, or he’ll never really believe it.”

I set my cup of coffee down and press my fingers to my eyes. Worry hits me again, that Drew and I can love each other all we want, but this rift will never be healed.

“He took me to Lake George. To see our handprints. Mom’s handprints.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to tell him that, but I feel so much better sharing it with him. I’ve been desperate to share it with Dekker, Lennox, and Chase, but how could I possibly explain how I got the photos?

It’s been eating at me.

All of this secrecy has.

His smile reaches his eyes as they grow misty. “She loved that place. Those memories we made as a family there.”

And Drew gave them to me again.

My mind sticks on that one thought and I can’t let go of it.