“You came to see me?” I ask, still shocked at that. “I didn’t know.”
“I have to think that there was a reason for that. Some sick and twisted reason that God kept you away from me.” The anguish pours out of him. “That rock.” He points at the rock I’m sitting on. “I would come out here every single night after dinner when the kids would get ready for bed, and I would talk to you. I would hope you were okay. I would replay every single fucking memory I had of you over and over—year after year. From the first time they placed you in my arms, I was so fucking scared. I was never more scared of anything in my life. But you stopped crying as if you knew that I was going to make everything okay for you. From the first time you fell asleep on my chest to the time you came to me and told me you were getting married, I was so proud of the man you were. So fucking proud. I didn’t care whose DNA you had. You were mine. You are mine.” He points at his chest.
“I am, Dad,” I say finally. “I was a little shit, and I was brought up better than that,” I say. “You taught me better than that.”
“I did,” he tells me.
“I died,” I say, and he gasps. “Five months ago, I was held as a prisoner when our mission went haywire.”
“Oh my god.” He puts his hands in front of his mouth.
“They beat me,” I tell him. “Tortured me, and at one point, I begged God to take me. But …” I wipe my eyes. “You know people say that you see the bright white light, and I always thought it was a lie until I saw it myself. I knew at that moment I was dead, knew it in my heart. And then all this sadness came over me. I was going to die, and my family wouldn’t know. I wanted one more chance to tell you that you were the best dad anyone could ever have. I wanted to tell you that I want to be just like you. I wanted to hug you, and I wanted you to kiss me right behind the ear, just like you always did. Even when I was twenty.” I turn my head now. “It’s why I put my cross tattoo there.”
“Son,” he says, coming to me and hugging me, and I cry in his arms, just like I did when I was younger. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” This right here, this is who my father is, this man who I hurt with all my words holds me as he has always done my whole life. Holding me up when I can’t stand, he makes sure that I get my strength from him.
“I’m so sorry, Dad.” I hug him harder than I ever have in my whole life. I hug him, clinging to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, son,” he says, and then he lets go of me. “You always hurt the ones you love first. You know why?” he asks. “It’s because the ones you love will forgive you.”
“I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness,” I say honestly. “But I’m going to prove to you that I’m sorry.”
“This,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “Coming here, being here, shows me how sorry you are.” He wipes his tears. “Are you staying?”
“I asked Emily to marry me this morning,” I say. “I want to marry her here. I want to build a family here.”
“Then there is only one more thing to say.” He smiles at me. “Welcome home, son!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emily
“Are you okay?” I ask when he walks back into the house with Jacob beside him. Both of them look like they went through the war zone.
“I am,” he says, smiling, and I see his eyes are red from crying. “It’s going to be okay.” He wraps his arms around the top of my chest, and then Jacob goes over to Kallie and kisses her neck.
“Do you want to go fishing tomorrow?” Jacob looks over at Ethan, who just looks at me, and I try to hide the smile that is filling my face.
“Yeah,” Ethan says. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Well, get ready because we leave at seven,” Jacob says to Ethan, and we spend the rest of the day with Kallie and Jacob, and when we leave, neither of us says anything. When we walk into the house, he takes me in his arms.
“Are you happy?” I ask when he buries his face in my neck while we lie in the hammock, watching the stars.
“I am,” he says. “It was rough with my dad.” He starts to say, “He gave up everything to love me, and I threw it away as if it was nothing. When, in reality, it was everything.”