Page 51 of The E.M.M.A. Effect
He leans into me, his body shuddering like a heart breaking in slow motion. In that moment, nothing else matters—not E.M.M.A., not our complicated history. Just being there for him.
Chapter Sixteen
Five minutes later, Gale’s phone buzzed on the dashboard, its chiming ringtone competing with the low rumble of the truck’s engine. A knot formed in his stomach as he glanced at the screen, his sister’s name flashing like a warning. He swiped to open the message.
Not happening. Don’t ask again.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Typical Brooke, wielding bluntness like a weapon.
“Well, that’s that, then.” He tossed the phone into the cupholder, a wave of disappointment washing over him. “My sister isn’t interested in going to see my father,” he said, his voice tight as he shifted the truck into reverse. “No surprise there.”
Harriet smoothed her hands over her skirt, a nervous habit he’d come to recognize. Her voice was gentle when she spoke. “No. Brooke feels a lot, but boundaries are important to her. Especially with your dad.”
“All true,” Gale agreed, feeling the familiar ache of family fractures.
“I can see how that makes it so much harder for you,” Harriet offered.
“It’s whatever,” he muttered.
“It’s a lot of things, but ‘whatever’ isn’t one of them.”
Gale glanced over, meeting Harriet’s steady, knowing gaze. For a moment, he felt seen in a way that both comforted and freaked him out. There was a strength in her that called to something in him. “No, guess not,” he admitted, his walls crumbling slightly. “I don’t know how I feel. It’s a lot, so... it’s whatever.”
They drove in silence, the powerful engine humming beneath them. Gale’s thoughts churned like a sea, memories and regrets crashing against each other.
“Where are we going?” Harriet asked, her soft voice breaking in.
“I need to see my mom,” he responded, realizing he’d been unconsciously steering toward the one place he always found solace.
After a pause heavy with unspoken pain, he added, “Can’t say I blame Brooke, though.”
“Want to talk about it?” Harriet prompted, her tone a gentle invitation.
He shrugged, eyes fixed on the road ahead as emotions warred within him. “What’s there to say? You know the story. Hall of Fame hockey player, Hall of Fame shit father.”
She reached over, her hand finding his arm. “Sometimes it helps to say it out loud, even if I’ve heard it before.”
The light ahead turned red, and Gale eased the truck to a stop. His fingers drummed an erratic beat on the steering wheel, matching the chaotic rhythm of his heart.
“It’s just...” Gale started, his voice low and thick with the old pain. “After all these years, after everything he put us through? What is he owed?”
“I get it,” she said softly, her tone conveying understanding without judgment. “It’s a lot to process.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, accelerating as the light turned green. “With Brooke tapping out...”
“It puts more pressure on you,” Harriet finished for him, her hand tightening on his arm.
He nodded, jaw clenching. “Exactly. And every time I think about seeing him, I can’t help but remember the accident.”
Her breath caught, knowing the weight of what he was referring to. “It was horrific,” she said quietly. “The families affected. The news frenzy. The reporters on your lawn.”
“Yeah.” Gale’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Two innocent people died because of his drunk ass. And he gets a brain injury but is spared his miserable life. How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” Harriet finally said. “None of it is.”
Gale’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Am I supposed to just forgive because he’s dying? After he’s destroyed so many lives, including his own family’s?”
“I can’t imagine how conflicted you must feel,” Harriet offered, her thumb tracing soothing circles on his arm.
