When You Were Mine (Stone Lake 2)

“At first, I stopped after you signed the papers—”

“God, Luna, I was so fucking stupid, about so much.”

“Then, I decided to keep going. In my head, I guess, I thought one day I could show you everything you missed and make you regret not being a part of my… of our son’s life.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I regret it more than you will ever know.”

“That first photo album, all I used were the cameras you gave me, Gavin.”

“Cameras I gave you so we would have memories of our lives together. God, I was such a fucking fool.”

Luna puts her hand over mine, letting it rest over pictures of Joshua—pictures of our son.

“They are memories of our time together, Gavin. Joshua is the best part of our time together—the very best part,” she says earnestly.

“You should hate me.”

“But I don’t, Gavin, no matter what. Our time together and the fact that it gave me Joshua is something I will always be eternally grateful for.”

“Me too,” I admit, but what I don’t tell her is that my time with her is the only part of my life that is good. What I don’t tell her is that before I was planning on fighting to be a part of her life. Now? Now I’ll die trying to be a part of her and Joshua’s life.

I want my family back. I was such a fool. I gave away the world, not even realizing it. I have to find a way to get them back.

I have to…

Gavin

I think I must be a fool.

It is not enough that I’ve been through emotional hell for the last two days, I had to add to it by finally breaking down and seeing Roy. I can’t really call him my father. Hell, I don’t even know if he is my father. Atticus is not the most trustworthy of sources.

I don’t know what it says about me that I don’t miss my brother, but I don’t. There’s even a part of me—most of me—that is glad he is dead. Maybe I have more of him inside of me than I ever wanted to admit. Maybe I’m just as twisted up inside as he is.

I pull into the old driveway, shut off my vehicle, and just stare at the old house. Not much has changed, barely anything. The house looks just as rundown as it did all those years ago, I don’t think it’s been painted. The grass has been mowed, and I suppose that’s different. Back when I lived here it didn’t get mowed unless I did it. Sometimes Atticus would, but very seldom.

There’s a truck in the driveway. An older model Toyota that has rust covering the fenders. It looks like a two-wheel drive, and I doubt that’s very useful in the Maine winters. Still, it’s evident that somehow Roy has gotten his life together enough to get his license, and I guess that’s something.

I get out of the car still not sure I should be here. I honestly don’t want to be. It just seems like if I’m going to try and stay here in Stone Lake, I need to make peace with my past. Roy and I will never be friends. We definitely will never be father and son, but he has tried to be a grandfather to Joshua. I don’t know what that means, but I need to find out.

Every step I take toward the house feels like I have giant lead chains wrapped around my legs. I get within about 10 feet of the door when it opens.

“I didn’t think I’d see you, son. Luna told me you were in town.”

“Roy,” I respond, my voice rough and graveled. I clear my throat wondering for the millionth time why I’m bothering with this.

“You wanna come inside?” he asks.

Roy hasn’t changed much. His hair is a little grayer, he’s got a few more wrinkles, and his face definitely shows signs of past alcohol abuse. I can’t help but notice that he’s lost so much weight a strong wind would probably knock him down. The one change I can notice right away, is the fact that his eyes aren’t bloodshot.

“I can’t stay long,” I tell him. “I have to get down to the station, I just wanted to take some time to talk to you first.”

“Well, come on inside and I’ll fix us some coffee. I figure you have a lot of questions.”

“Why would you think that?” I question, following him inside.

The house has changed inside, oddly enough.

It’s actually clean and the furniture might be worn, but it shines. There are two recliners and a couch. A small television is on a console table and there are actual curtains covering the windows. I walk to them, reaching out to touch one before I even think about it. They are a muted pink color, nothing I could imagine Roy picking out. I look at him over my shoulder, asking a question without words. I’m surprised when he smiles in response.