Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’m not pissed at you,” he says, pushing off now and coming over to sit on the opposite couch, facing me. “I’m disappointed, not pissed.” He leans back. “Okay, fine, I’m a bit pissed off also.”
“And you have every right to be.” I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees.
“Do you know I found out in this office?” he tells me, and I look at him, shocked. “The day I became mayor, I came in here and was sneaking a drink of your grandfather's whiskey. I opened the locked drawer, not thinking anything of it.” My heart beats so fast. “There it was, a paper telling me that the woman I loved had a baby with my brother.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, and he just looks at me.
“I’ve loved your mother my whole life. Every single day from the moment I can form memories, she was the one I was going to marry, and there it was that she chose someone else and not me.”
“What did you do?” I ask, feeling a sudden pain for him.
“I did what you did, more or less. I said not nice things. Things that to this day, I thank god she forgave me for. But when I heard her story, and I heard the reasons, I was so fucking relieved she didn’t give my brother you because you are hands down the best thing that will ever happen to him.” I wipe away the tear from my eye. “You said things that I know you regret, trust me, I know that, but you hurt a lot of people by staying away.”
“I know,” I say. “I just …”
“Your father,” he starts. “Jacob.” When he says his name, I want to tell him that his name is dad. He’s my dad. “He gave up everything for you.” He shakes his head. “And I mean everything. He gave up the woman he loved and the life he wanted, and he did it without once looking back. He didn’t care what blood type you were. None of us did.”
“It was a shock,” I say. “I felt like my whole life was just a farce. I was scared, Uncle Beau,” I finally tell him, my voice going low. “I was scared that I would be just like him. That I would turn out like him.” I cry now. “Fuck, he threw me away.” He gets up now, coming over to me, and puts his arm around my shoulder.
“He didn’t throw you away,” he says. Whispering, he squeezes me, “He gave you the best gift he could have given you. He gave you Jacob.”
“I know,” I say. “I know that now.”
“My father was not a nice person. My brother was just as stupid, who had no balls to stand up to him. He dropped your mother without thinking twice about you.” I put my hands in front of my face. “He’s not a man, he’s a coward, and you were raised better than that.”
“I was,” I say. “It’s why I came back.”
“You being gone hurt everyone in a different way,” he tells me. “It hurt not to be able to watch you grow to be the man you are. It hurt not to be there when you had doubts and thought you had no one to turn to. It hurt watching your mother miss a piece of her. It hurt watching your father not be able to make sure you were okay. He had to wait for Casey to give him whatever news he had. It would take a toll on him after he did find out,” he tells me. “He would get quiet for a couple of weeks. I don’t know how he did it.” He shakes his head. “Knowing that your kid is out there but not being able to talk to them and hold them.” My heart breaks for my father. I never thought about what this was doing to him.
“I was a selfish asshole who only thought about myself,” I say, wiping my eye.
“You weren’t a selfish asshole,” he tells me. “You were a man finding his path.”
“Well, this path led me to the one place I need to be,” I say. “Home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Emily
“If you guys need any extra help, all you have to do is let me know,” I say to the kids as they start to walk out. “I’m here early in the morning and during all of lunch.”
I sit down at the desk and start to pile up the things I need to bring home to correct, and when I walk out of the classroom, I see the halls are pretty much empty. A couple of students stand at their lockers, trying to clean it out before the last day of school. It’s always a bittersweet time of year when the kids get ready to leave. Some of the kids that I’ve taught for the past three years are graduating, and I’m going to miss them. I get into the car and make my way home, with the window open and the air blowing through my hair.