“I’m not stupid enough to fuck with you.”
“Good to know.”
“Why can’t she stay with me?”
“Because that’s how we’re doing this.”
He doesn’t like that answer, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Can I at least see her?”
“I don’t think it’s wise you get involved.”
“I’m dying,” he cuts in, and sadness washes over his features. “I … have a brain tumor. I had it before and did the surgery, but then it came back with a vengeance. I don’t have long left, and it’s getting to that stage where I’m getting worse by the day. I didn’t have this cane a month ago when her sister came to visit. Now I need it every day.”
That was what I detected when I first saw him—a sickness that will eventually lead to death. “I’m sorry to hear that. How long did the doctors give you?”
“Three months. If I’m lucky, I might make it to six. But that’s just an estimate. My deterioration rate is rapid. So, anything could happen in between the time they’ve told me.”
“Can I tell her?” I wouldn’t normally ask for permission to do anything, but this is different.
“Yes.” His shoulders tense. “Neither of my girls knew. I’m not sure if knowing would make a difference to the horrendous relationship Summer and I have, but I just want to see my little girl for whatever time I have left. Even if it’s just to make amends on some level.” He presses his lips together.
“I’ll try and arrange something.” I won’t be a bastard and rob a dying man of seeing his daughter. Besides, I’m sure regardless of the type of relationship he and Summer have, she should know about his health.
My family had a unique situation, so my grandfather helped raise my sister and me. Olivia and I were the children of an affair that never stopped. We weren’t allowed to be in our father’s life, and I felt he never fought hard enough to be in ours.
My last conversation with my father before he was killed was an argument where I told him I hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. That came after years of trying to be in his life. I’d had enough. Now there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret not making amends with him.
“I’d really appreciate that. We haven’t spoken in eight years,” John explains.
“What happened?”
“We said terrible things to each other at her mother’s funeral, and like everyone else, I blamed her for her mother’s death. She committed suicide.”
I glare at him. I’m an asshole at the best of times, but even I wouldn’t be that cold.
“It wasn’t her fault,” he says quickly, seeing my reaction. “But she left the family believing that. Will you protect her? I wasn’t there to protect her when she needed me most.”
Desperation emanates from him, and something about seeing a father in that state reaches my cold dead heart. Protection hasn’t even crossed my mind yet. But I suppose I will be protecting her, just in a roundabout sort of fashion.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I stand. “I think we’re done here.” I pull out one of my business cards and hand it to him.
“Thank you.”
It’s time to go and finally get that information from Summer.
I hope she didn’t bruise her wrists too much.