Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)(98)

“She should’ve been protecting you.”

“Well, she didn’t. I was already soiled goods so why not let him continue doing what he would be compelled to do anyway. And this is gonna sound sick as f*ck, but she…she has the look, the body and the build of a prepubescent boy.”

My head was spinning with all of this.

“If your next question is whether I plan to talk to my father or confront him or whatever, the answer is no.”

“Why not?”

“He’s in a nursing home in poor health. I haven’t seen him or Mom in years. And with all that born-again stuff…”

“That’s ten kinds of f*cked up, Dad.”

“Yep. It’s also why it’d be pointless to address now.” He closed his eyes. “I’ve seen the scenario a hundred times. I ask Dad why he did it, if he’s even sorry he did it, and he doesn’t answer. Instead Mom jumps in and reminds me that was a long time ago, he’s asked God for forgiveness. Dad’s accepted his past as a sinner and found redemption. He’s been on a righteous path for years, so my issue with the past is just that; my issue. And maybe I should get right with God so I can move on too.”

The odd thing was I saw that scene exactly as he’d depicted it, so I understood. Because in some ways…it was the same type of situation between him and me. Not the abuse, but the opposite; the complete detachment.

“Besides, as soon as you graduated I left Wyoming for Nebraska and I haven’t been back. Haven’t seen my brothers since you graduated from boot camp. Being away from there…it’s been good for me. I don’t see how going back would do anything but set me back. My counselor—”

“Wait. You’re seeing a counselor?”

He blushed. “Weird, huh? But yeah. I met this woman and I really liked her. It was embarrassing to admit I didn’t know how to be with her, because I hadn’t done any of the normal…ah, dating stuff since I started driving trucks. She told me to deal with my issues because I’d been living half a life.” He looked at me again. “That’s when all this came crashing down. I checked into an addiction clinic in Omaha. Official diagnosis was exhaustion. My addiction was to work.”

“When did that happen?” I demanded.

“Three years ago. It’s taken me a while to come to terms with all of this, son. And I…hope you understand why I couldn’t make the trip to see you when you were in Wyoming.”

“I get it.”

“There is another part to this. I’m gonna hit the can first.” He stood and lumbered away from the table.

I took my phone out to see if Sierra had tried to contact me. Two text messages sent an hour ago.

SM: At least I have a third row seat to witness the wedding of the year – eye roll. Mom is acting strangely calm, so I’m assuming she popped valium before she arrived in her limo.

SM: What is up with all the pastel-colored golf shirts? And plaid shorts? Do these dudes’ wives purposely dress them like that in some kind of ugliest outfit contest? Anyway, four geezers were checking out my ass and I wished you were here, going all growly, sexy caveman on them, letting them know who that ass really belongs to. My everything belongs to you. I miss you and I hope things are going well. Call me NO MATTER WHAT TIME YOU GET DONE. I need to hear your voice, Boone. Love you.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and closed my eyes. I knew it defined selfish, but I wanted her here, waiting in the room for me. I’d need her. I don’t think she grasped how much I needed her.

I wondered how long it’d take Dad to get back into the swing of conversation after this break.

He launched in immediately after he returned to the table. “I already told you I was a shitty father. Not that it’s news to you. What probably is news though is that it was intentional.”

“Why?”

He was back to label-picking. “I didn’t trust myself to be around you, Boone. My dad was a sexual abuser. I had no way of knowing whether that…trait, tendency, whatever the f*ck you wanna call it, had been passed on to me. Back then, I didn’t know half the stuff I do now, but a lot of this bad shit is learned behavior. It’s a pattern. It’s passed down. That sucks. I don’t have any idea whether my dad was abused or who did it to him. To be honest I don’t give a f*ck. ‘I didn’t know any better’ is never a valid argument. But one thing I did know?”

He looked at me with the most haunted eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Whatever f*cked-up cycle of abuse I’d been born into would stop with me. I’d never do to you what my dad did to me. Never. And to ensure that didn’t happen, I stayed away as much as I could.”

My last sip of beer threatened to come back up. With all of the implications of what I’d learned in the last hour about my family? That hadn’t crossed my mind. I never would’ve seen my dad as the perverted f*cker who liked little boys.

Did you ever in your wildest imaginings believe your grandfather was a pedophile in an incestuous situation with your father?

No.

“Maybe this is the beer talking or maybe it’s just that we’ve come this goddamned far in being able to talk about it. I can honestly say I never had any pull that direction. Ever. But I’ll also admit I never put myself in a situation where it’d become an issue.”