Page 86 of Make Me Trust Again
“Chase?”
Emptying the bucket, I turn around to find a serious expression on Kyle’s face. He’s biting on his lip, his fingers crossing and uncrossing on his lap. Whatever he wants to tell me is making him nervous. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I wait for him to continue, only for his question to throw me completely off guard.
“Do you have a dad?”
His voice is so soft, for a second, I wonder if I heard him correctly. Kyle bites the inside of his cheek, slipping his palms under his legs as he waits for me to answer.
“I do,” I say tentatively, unsure of where he’s going with this.
“Where is he?”
“He’s…” My brows furrow as I try to find an easy way to explain it. “He’s gone.”
Kyle’s eyes widen in surprise, and is there some relief as well? “He left you?”
“Well, not really. He died when I was young,” I say, watching for his reaction. Does he even know what it means? I hopenot. I didn’t know when I was his age. I didn’t understand it, not until we lost my dad. Kyle’s brows furrow in confusion, but instead of trying to explain the concept of death, something I don’t even know how to put into words, at least not for a kid to comprehend, I change the subject. “Why do you ask?”
“All my friends have dads.”
Shit.
I have a feeling I know where this is going.
“Did your dad ever do stuff with you? Levi’s dad does. They build Legos, and watch movies, and he’s our football coach. And other dads come to our games. Was your dad like that?”
I nod, memories of my father that I thought I had forgotten long ago coming back to my mind. How I’d help him fix stuff around the house or work with him on the ranch. How even though he was tired after work, he’d help us finish our homework, and on Sundays we’d play board games all together. I helped him build the tree house for Becky out in the woods, and we spent hours tossing the ball to Matthew, who was the most talented at sports out of all of us.
“Sometimes.” Blinking away the memories, I focus on Kyle. “He was very busy working.”
“Well, my dad is always busy,” Kyle mutters, that frown back on his face. “Mom said that he wanted me to come this weekend, and that he’s trying, but when we got to our old house, he left me with Billie like I’m some baby and didn’t come back.”
My jaw clenches, the anger at the man I barely know spiking to the surface. Here, Rose was crying herself to sleep the whole weekend because she missed her son, only for his father to ditch him with somebody else? What kind of man does that? What kind of father?
A shitty one, that’s what kind.
What do you know about fatherhood?The little voice at the back of my head asks.Your father died. Your siblings, whomyou were supposed to raise, are both messed up. If you couldn’t do that right, better not even think about raising a human of your own.
I clench my fingers into a fist as the words ring in my head, and I can’t even fight them because they’re the truth.
“He hates me.”
Kyle’s gently spoken words snap me back to the present.
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“He does,” Kyle yells, getting to his feet, his cheeks flushed in anger. “He hates me because I’m not normal. Not like all my other friends.”
I gently place my hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with you, Kyle.”
“Then why don’t you want to be my friend and come to the party with us?”
Fuck.
I’m messing this up on all fronts.
“Kyle…” I shake my head.
How the hell do I explain to a six-year-old that this isn’t about him, but about me? That I’m the messed-up one, and he shouldn’t rely on me because I’ll only end up disappointing him like I did everybody else?
