Page 132 of Bring You Back

He pulls me into a hug, and I try to remember the last time he hugged me. I can’t. We were always close, but most of the hugging comes from my mom. I need this, too. I need to hand him my problems, and hear him tell me everything will be all right.

“I really fucked things up,” I say into his hold, my voice thick.

“It’s not as bad as you think it is. I promise.” He pats my back and we separate, his hand giving my shoulder a squeeze. “And with a heart like yours, you’ll make it right.”

I laugh despite myself, rubbing at my eyes and taking a hard sniff in, trying to reabsorb my emotions. “My heart’s pretty fucked up right now, too.”

“Everything will be okay,” he says, and I absorb that, too. Accepting, believing.

What good comes from telling the truth? Truth breaks, but truth also repairs. And lies fuck things up more. Truth is better. That’s the way you can put everything back together when it falls apart. That’s the way you can heal.

He’s studying me, waiting again, knowing I’m not finished with my line of questioning.

“Why’d you have to tell me?”

He moves to the railing with a sigh and I follow. We settle in mirroring positions, elbows relaxed on the wood, stares out on the rolling ocean.

“Honestly, I didn’t want you thinking I was the only bad guy. I didn’t want to lose you,” he says. “And I resented your mom … for a long time.” He releases a mirthless laugh, then looks at me. My stare drops as I watch him from the corner of my eye. “But I never resented you. There was never a point that I’m not your father. Because I am.”

Looking back on that night, I don’t think he actually said those words. He said my mom had me with a different guy. But that was enough for my already hurt heart and fucked up head to read between the lines. I couldn’t think that what they had done was a mistake without also thinking I was a mistake, too.

I scoff, keeping the focus on him and my mom now. “You just had to even the score.”

“It came to that, yeah,” he says, regret in his voice. “It shouldn’t have. I’m not proud of that.”

I close my eyes, try to let the calm flow of the waves soothe the churning inside me. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, either, whether or not it’s on the same level of my parents, and I need my father’s advice. “What do I do?”

He takes a breath, his tone becoming lighter as we shift the topic back to me. “You know, I always liked Reyna. She’s a great girl. Not the one for my son. . .”

I give him a look, one single nostrils flare. “Seriously?”

He gives a nostrils flare back, but for him it’s not intentional, and I laugh. “Seriously.” He laughs, too, then says, “The One is always the one you want.”

“Ialmostforgot how simple everything can be with you,” I say with a shake of my head. “So, that’s why you’re not with Mom.” I’m half teasing, surprised that I’m even capable. “You want Tiffany.”

“Yeah,” he says. Again, simple. “So, I shouldn’t stay with your mom. Why would I put myself or her through that?”

I laugh again. “You’re asking the wrong guy.”

Ignoring my ill attempts at humor, he continues, “You tell her the truth. If you care about her, and I know you do, you own up and deal with the consequences.” I can already feel my body pushing back, my arms tense against the railing, still not ready to accept those consequences. “Then you don’t stop fighting to make it right.”

I meet his stare. “So don’t stop fighting to make it right with Mom.”

He holds my eyes a moment, a corner of his mouth turning down as he says, “Your mom and I are past that point.”

I figured as much, but I needed to plant the thought in his head, voice what I want. I don’t miss the subtle hint that I have to make things right with Reyna beforewe’repast that point. I don’t hate her—obviously—like Dad doesn’t hate Mom. I know my dad is a great dad. Besides the cheating fiasco, my parents were good to each other. They both just fucked up. I wasn’t used to the people in my life making mistakes. Not to that level. But their mistakes weren’t about me. They were about themselves. My mistakes are about myself.

I still should’ve been thinking about Reyna. My dad should’ve been thinking about me. But what’s done is done. Now all we can do is move forward.

“Tiffany’s not so bad,” Dad teases with encouragement in his tone, so on the tail of my own thoughts that I can’t help but laugh. “We both want you around.”

“Tiffany wants me around,” I repeat, my laugh turning skeptical.

“She does,” he affirms with a sincerity that almost makes me believe him. “We both want you to be a part of this kid’s life.”

I let myself hold to that belief, absorb the words. Do I want to be a brother? I technically have a choice. But … Tiffany. My loyalty is still to my mother where she’s concerned. I’ll have to talk to her first. See where her head’s at.

“It’s up to you,” Dad says to my silence. “Just wanted to put it out there.” He lifts his arm, eyes his watch, steps back from the railing. “I have an appointment with Tiffany at the doctor’s.”

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