Relentless (Mason Family 4) - Page 86
I sit upright. The sudden movements make Dad flinch.
“The last time we spoke,” I say, looking him in the eye, “you told me that your family was a giant inconvenience in your life. So let’s set aside the pleasantries and get to the reason you’re here.”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“That makes you smile?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand you, Pops.”
He scoots in his chair until his back is resting against the leather. He crosses an ankle over the other knee and looks … proud? Relieved? At peace?
“Coy came to see me,” Dad says.
He didn’t tell me. “And Holt? Boone? Wade?” I ask.
“I’ve spoken to all of them briefly.”
“I’m sure a brief conversation really answered their questions.” I lift a brow. “We’re all wondering the same thing.”
He stills. “I know. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I called you the other night. The only things you had to say were either rude, cruel, or inciting.”
He chuckles. He has the audacity to chuckle.
“If you find this funny, you can see your way out,” I say, my jaw tensing. “I’ve had a shitty afternoon, and I don’t really have the patience to deal with you too.”
My gaze flips to Shaye’s closed door.
It’s been a struggle for the last few hours not to pick up the phone or jump in my car and find her. I don’t because … I don’t know what to say.
Do I recant my admission? Do I save face since she didn’t say it back? Do I remove the guilt she might feel for not repeating it back to me?
Maybe she doesn’t feel guilty at all. Why should she if she doesn’t love me?
If only I hadn’t said it at all …
But as the hours pass and I have some space between the most honest moment of my life—saying I love you to the woman who I’m absolutely sure I love—my instincts tell me not to do that.
I do love Shaye. I know I love her because I’ve never felt this way before. Out of all of my relationships, there’s not one person who elevates every level of my life. Of me.
My life has changed in the past few weeks. I smile more. I laugh at more than Boone’s stupidity. I’m happy to set work aside in the evenings to spend time with her.
The idea of not seeing her, not having her around, fills my soul with a dark, heavy cloud. Every plan I make—from tonight’s dinner to next month’s work trip to Portland—they all include her. It was one of the reasons that I had her car fixed. I was concerned for her safety, and I couldn’t shake it. It mattered. It mattered because she matters. My thoughts fall to her constantly. I wanted to show her how much more I care than anyone she’s ever known.
My life before made me happy. Contracts, projects, family dinners here and there. But my life now? It’s on a different playing field. I still want to accomplish all of the goals I’ve dreamed of, but I also want to make her life better.
It’s so natural. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. She gives me an opportunity to do even more with my life—with her.
Dad shifts in his seat. I snap out of my thoughts and focus on him again.
“I want to talk to you about something, Ollie.”
There’s no chuckle, no smile this time. There’s nothing but a bead of sweat dotting his forehead.
“Dad?”
My stomach knots. My heart beats hard in my throat. All of my senses are tuned into my father as he sits quietly across from me.
He looks bad. His voice is raspy. His cologne is off, more pungent, and not the usual scent I associate him with.
Suddenly, I’m aware that something is wrong. Something more than Dad being a dick or rude or failing to show up to support his kids.
Something is wrong.
“I need help.” His lips part, and his breathing gets shallow. “I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“What kind of help?”
My mind races a million different directions.
He likes to gamble. Has he gotten into financial trouble? Does he owe someone money? Is he sick? He looks ill. Is he going to prison? Oh, shit.
What did you do, Dad?
He sets both feet on the floor, only to cross them again. He pushes himself to sit taller in the chair.
“Dad?”
“I don’t know how this happened.”
“What? You don’t know how what happened?” A rush of adrenaline kicks in. “Tell me.”
He lowers his head. I think he’s going to cry.
The man in front of me isn’t the strapping CEO that I’ve always known. Overnight, it seems, he’s turned into a frail, scared man.
The scene is hard for me to digest. It’s as if the role of parent has been thrust upon my shoulders. It sits awkwardly between us—the shift in our relationship—but he’s aware of it just as much as I am.
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