Page 165 of Unexpected Redemption

“Thank you for this.” My neck cricks to one side, and I raise my brows inquisitively. “Who told you I needed an office? Mia or Lettie?”

He purses his lips, narrows his eyes, and rears his head back, feigning being insulted. “I’m not as unobservant as you’re implying, kid.”

“My apologies, Boss.” I lower my forehead. “Last thing I want to do is insult the man who’s giving me my own office. Especially after I committed the biggest fuckup of my life by lying to him for eight years.”

His mouth opens, making room for a forceful exhale.

Before he can respond, I begin expressing how sorry I am by channeling every ounce of love I have for him. He deserves an apology more profound and earnest than the meaningful ones my family members gave me moments ago. “Big Al, I never thanked you. For what you did.”

He shrugs, adding a few shakes of his head, seeming unclear on what I’m referring to.

“When you stopped me from murdering Fred Stillman. I’m sorry you had to see me that way, and I’m sorry for never expressing how much it mattered to me. I needed you, and you were there. Literally taking the blade from my hand.” I pausefor a breath and force a jagged swallow. “In truth, I was pissed at you for stopping me. We both know he deserved a death far worse. It took years to figure it out, but I know why you wouldn’t let me kill him.”

“Yes, he deserved a much worse end to his life,” Boss concedes. “I stopped you because it was the right thing to do. You aren’t a cold-blooded murderer. You’re a better man than that. You were back then. Still are now.” He presses his lips firmly together, breathing in sharply through his nose. “After everything he did to you, having his blood on your hands was a burden you didn’t need to carry. Good men don’t murder their fathers, even when they deserve it. Despite the shitty start to your life, you’re a damn fine man.”

His words confirm what I’ve slowly come to accept as the truth. The belief seals a fissure in my soul.

“I know that now.” My jaw tightens. “Thank you for seeing it in me.”

He steps forward, slowly approaching me. “Even good men have faults and make mistakes.”

His next words nearly shake me to my knees.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Tomer. I fault myself for you keeping Lettie a secret from me. As much as I blame you. Perhaps more.”

“Wh-what?” My neck wobbles, jostling my head. “You didn’t fail me. And what I did wasn’t?—”

He holds me by the arms and looks deep into my eyes. “I did. If I’d done what I promised, you’d have known that I would have forgiven you even if you didn’t tell me right away. You’d have believed I’d still love you. But since I didn’t do enough to right the wrongs that monster did to you growing up, it left you feeling like you’d lose me if you finally admitted it. Right?”

Moisture needles at the back of my eyes. “Yes. A few weeks turned into months. Then after a year, it felt like it was too damn late. I was...afraidI’d lose you. The fear twisted into otherworries until I was terrified you’d leave Florida and Redleg to be with your daughter.” Tears spill, dampening my cheeks on their way to the floor. “One way or another, I thought I’d lose you. Either because you couldn’t forgive me or because you’d leave me. For her.”

It’s amazing how easily you find clarity when you stop listening to the negative voices in your mind.

“I get it.” He nods solemnly, pulsing his hands on my arms to convey his compassion. “I wouldn’t have left you. I never will. And that’s how I failed you. Never, for one minute, should you have doubted my position in your life. From the night I found you in the barracks, crying into your liquor bottle, I wanted to be there for you. Not only because of what you could do for the Army or our unit. And not because I felt sorry for you.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “It’s because I was unwilling to go another moment letting you think you weren’t worthy of a father’s love.”

He wraps me in his embrace, and I fold myself around him, letting him hold me up.

And I cry.

Cry for the years I’ve wasted in my mental prison.

Cry for the suffering I caused him and myself.

Cry for the man he always saw in me, but I didn’t.

And I cry for the little boy who was raised to think he didn’t matter.

And this man in front of me—my true father—allows me to cry. He lets me sob. And he comforts me through it, never shaming me or telling me to suck it up or be a man.

Because that’s what fathers do when they love their children.

Once my tears have dried, I pull out of the hug.

His eyes are also misty. “I love you, son.”

Finally, I say the words I’ve never said to anyone other than Lettie.

“I love you too.”

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