Accidentally on Purpose (Heartbreaker Bay #3)(82)

No way in hell did he want her to witness the showdown between his dad and himself. He was already flat on his back, as vulnerable as a man could get. He looked her in the eyes. “I want you to go.”

She drew in a breath and turned away. Spence slipped his hand in hers and then they were gone, leaving Archer alone with the man staring down at him like he was the biggest disappointment of his entire life.

“Nice going, son,” his dad said, “alienating the people who care so deeply for you. You’re real good at that.”

“Well I did learn from the master.”

His dad snorted and then took the chair at Archer’s side. He leaned in, elbows on his knees. “They say you’re going to be okay. Your shoulder’s going to be a bitch to rehab but you’re young and in lean, mean, fighting shape so it’s doable.”

Good to know.

“I’m going to say some things now,” his dad went on, “and I want you to hear them.”

“I don’t know, Dad, I’m pretty busy at the moment, so . . .”

“Smartass. You got that from your mother.” His dad paused and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. Warmer. “She was a good woman. She got me, Archer. I mean she really got me. And she would’ve gotten you too.”

He had Archer’s full attention now. They didn’t talk about his mom much but he wished they would because, Christ, he missed her. He missed her so very much.

“She knew how to handle us both. And she would’ve known how to keep you a part of the family”—he inhaled and then let it out slowly—“when I failed to do so.”

This was more from the man who’d raised him than he’d ever heard in all the years put together. “Are you actually taking some of the blame here?” Archer asked. “Has hell frozen over?”

His dad shook his head. “You can’t stop yourself, can you? Not even when someone’s trying to hand you an olive branch. I’m trying to fucking apologize here.”

Shit. Feeling like an asshole, Archer struggled to sit up, hating to have this conversation from flat on his back but damn, the pain—

“Here.” His dad leaned in and fumbled with a remote attached to the bed. He hit a button that had the mattress jerking as the lower half of the bed raised, wrenching a string of oaths from Archer.

“Shit!” his dad said. “Hang on—” He pounded another button that had the mattress jerking again, this time lowering Archer’s head.

“Shit on a stick,” his dad muttered, randomly stabbing buttons now. All of them.

Dizzy, swearing, Archer wrangled the remote from his dad’s hands, but he was trembling and now sweating to boot and it slipped through his fingers.

“I’ve got it!” his dad said, and he dropped to the floor. On his knees he hit a few more buttons until he managed to get the bed straightened out.

“Holy fuck,” his dad said, swiping his forehead as he sank back to the chair. “That was harder than getting through the police academy.”

Archer laughed and then groaned as that caused another wrenching pain. “Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me?”

His dad’s smile vanished and he blew out a long breath. “Son.”

It’d been a damn long time since his dad had said that word in that voice. Not his cop voice. Not his in-charge-of-everything voice. But a dad voice.

Archer’s chest went tight and they stared at each other.

“Elle’s call took ten years off my life,” his dad finally said. “So the question is who’s trying to kill who?”

Archer managed a small smile. “Admit it, we’re both surprised we haven’t killed each other before now.”

His dad snorted and looked down at his tightly entwined fingers for a minute before meeting Archer’s gaze. “I know why you left. I even know why you stayed gone. What I don’t know is why we’re still doing this, pushing each other away. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m an old man, Archer. I don’t want to die alone.”

“Dad, you’re fifty-two. That’s only halfway old, and anyway you’re far too ornery to die.”

His dad laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably true. And something else that’s also true—I miss your stubborn ass.”

Archer’s chest tightened again. “You don’t. No way do you miss that asshole kid who questioned your every word, the one who not only crossed every line you ever drew but butted heads with all authority figures. Cuz I’d think it’d be a relief to be free of that.”

“Don’t be a chip off the old block, dammit. Not right now. Say you miss me too.” His dad leaned forward and put his hand on Archer’s. “I fucked up, more than once. And eventually I’m going to meet up with your mom again and hell if I want her first words to me to be ‘you messed up with our only son.’ When she was dying—”

“Dad—”

“No, I’m going to say this, goddammit. When she was dying, she made me promise to . . . well, not be me. She made me promise to be gentle and kind and . . .” His mouth shut and his eyes went suspiciously shiny. He cleared his throat. “My point is that I thought she was wrong. I thought the way to deal with my son was the way my father dealt with me. Like a hard-ass. Tough. Unbending. To build character.” He shook his head. “But I promised her, even knowing I wasn’t going to do it. And I failed her. I failed you.”