Page 78 of Losing Forever
Not like this. I fight the urge to beg him to stay. It wouldn’t change anything. Grayson may never get his head on straight and push past his fear of opening his heart. He has so much to give. I believe that and can only hope one day he’ll see that, too.
28
Grayson
Isit across from my father for the first time since his arrest, even though I swore I’d never come here. He didn’t deserve a visit from me, and I wasn’t interested in anything he had to say.
Now, seeing him look a decade older, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. Seven months in jail can seriously change a man. His hair is shorter, with more gray. He never had scruff before or so many wrinkles. Maybe they’re just deeper. His appearance seems tougher, but his eyes show a multitude of sadness.
“Why are you really here, son?”
Braylee. Ever since I left her in Seattle, I wake up each morning replaying her words in my head. How she encouraged me to see my father and tell him how I feel. How she said she’d give anything to see her family again. How she regretted the things she said and did before she lost them forever.
Everything she deals with hurts her in some way, yet she finds the strength to face and accept those challenges, even when that challenge is a selfish ass like me.
I clasp my fingers on the table and do what I came here to do. “Why? Why couldn’t you have said no? Hell, why couldn’t you have bought Uncle Len a ticket to Aruba or someplace where he could hide? You had other options. Why get involved with—” I glance around and lower my voice. Stupid, considering I’m in a room with other inmates and their visitors. “The mafia again?”
Dad doesn’t sigh or show regret. He leans forward, his expression earnest. “I did it to protect my family. You know about my past and everything I did to start over in Florida with you and your mom. When Len showed up at the house all those years ago, I knew the life I’d created for us was over. The mafia has a talent for forcing people back in. They know what to do and who to threaten to get you to cooperate.”
I shake my head, not buying it. “You could have said no.”
“If I’d have said no, they would have killed Len.”
“How do you know?”
“Len told me.”
“How do you know he wasn’t lying? From what I know, Uncle Len profited nicely from the embezzling arrangement. Maybe he couldn’t do it without you, and that was his excuse to get you back in the game. Uncle Len’s only motivation in life is money.”
A heavy breath leaves Dad, and he hangs his head. “I couldn’t chance it. The mafia doesn’t bluff about death. If Len had been killed because of me, I never would have forgiven myself.”
“And what about Mom and me? Did you even consider how this would affect us?”
“Of course I did. You two were my top priority.”
“And Uncle Len. He was at the very top.”
Torment swarms his eyes. “He’s my brother, Grayson.”
I look away, feeling like a dick, but no less frustrated over the situation.
“Luck wasn’t on my side, either,” Dad says. “Mr. Gianni moved here to follow his son, who just happened to pick a college in Winter Park, Florida out of all the places in the US.”
I glare at him. “Seems awfully coincidental. Are you sure Uncle Len didn’t lead them to you?”
“He doesn’t have that kind of connection. Neither of us did. We worked for foot soldiers, and one approached me about coming back before Len showed up at the house. I turned him down, said I was out. But that’s never the case, is it?” He lets out a wry laugh and rubs his bloodshot eyes. “The first thing the mafia does in a new area is scope for businesses they can use to their advantage. It’s faster and less suspicious to move money through an existing establishment than to open a new business. It didn’t take long for them to find me. My pawnshops were the perfect front for that kind of activity. My refusal to get involved pissed them off, so they did what they do best and used threats. Len’s life if I didn’t do their bidding.”
“And here you sit in jail, while he’s out free. How convenient for him.” I shake my head and grind my back teeth against my anger. “If it weren’t for Uncle Len, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with the mafia in the first place. What kind of older brother does that? You were only nine.”
A sad smile crosses Dad’s face. “We didn’t have a choice. We needed money. Life was different for us. Your granddad didn’t make it easy. You know the stories of how abusive he got.”
The man was ex-military and a raging alcoholic.
“Len got it the worst. Your granddad unleashed his anger with fists, belts, cigarettes, and anything else he could get his hands on.”
That’s more detail than I’d heard growing up. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
He laughs. “We were juvies, mafia errand boys. We avoided the cops.”
