Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(142)

“It wasn’t your doing,” Ryke refutes. “I didn’t meet Lo because of you. I met him because I wanted to.”

My father rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t ever win with you. Ever since you asked me some silly goddamn question and you didn’t like the answer.”

“I was fifteen,” Ryke sneers. “I just found out I had a brother. I felt lied to and cheated on. I needed your compassion and you f*cking spit in my face. But I guess I should have known better.”

“You didn’t need compassion.” My father grimaces at the word. “You needed the truth, and I gave it to you. It’s not my fault you were too weak to handle it.”

“What are you guys talking about?” I ask, hesitating. Maybe I shouldn’t know. But I hate being in the dark.

My father is quick to answer. “Ryke asked me a simple question that day. Would you like to tell him, Ryke?’

“Fuck you,” Ryke sneers.

“I suppose not.” He takes a small sip from his drink, smacking his lips before he continues. “He asked me if I could take back the day that I f*cked your mother—take back having you—would I?”

My throat goes dry, not expecting that. I think I know his answer. Because even in his hatred, his bigotry and vileness—there is one fact that my father has never let me question.

He loves me.

And it’s a f*cked up love. Ryke is right. It does mess with my head. And it’s something I have so much trouble walking away from. Sometimes I don’t want to. Other times, it’s all I dream about.

My father’s eyes hold this unbridled clarity, unwavering from mine, the haziness of his drink gone to honesty. “I told Ryke that I would do it all over again. I have zero regrets, in this lifetime or the next.”

Zero regrets.

That’s what I pick out from that. Zero regrets. Not even when he grabbed me by the neck, not when he called me a shitty f*ck at ten years old. Not when he made me feel like I was never good enough to be his son. Zero regrets.

Right.

No one says anything more at first. Ryke is probably worried that I resent him. He wished I wasn’t alive. But truth is, I kind of did too. Until I looked at Lily. Until I talked to her. I don’t think I could have survived this life without that girl.

I redirect the conversation to Hale Co., which my father only likes to discuss in small quantities. The company took a minor hit in comparison to Fizzle, but he’s still working on launching a new baby product. Something about cribs. It’s ironic that the world’s worst dad has a fortune from baby things, but since it was my grandfather’s business first, it makes the irony less valid. Unless he was an alcoholic * too.

The burgers arrive when he says, “This marriage helps Fizzle, but do you know what would really benefit Hale Co.?”

Ryke freezes, the lettuce falling out of his bun.

I must be slower because I don’t get it. “What?”

My father cuts through his burger with a knife, juices oozing out. His eyes find mine. “It’s a baby merchandize company. Babies would help.” I can’t breathe. “Little Hale babies in little Hale onesies. It would be great goddamn marketing.” He takes a bite of his burger. “You can’t beat that.”

“No,” I say instantly. My blood feels like it’s on fire. I have been coerced into marrying Lily. I’m not going to have children because my father tells me to. There has to be a line somewhere.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I said no. Not now. Not in a f*cking year. Not ever.”

My father sets down his silverware and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Is this a new development?”

“No.”

“Is something wrong?” he frowns. “Are you sterile?”

“For f*ck’s sake,” I snap. I didn’t think I’d have to discuss this with him. “I don’t want kids. It’s not because I can’t have them. I don’t want them.” I don’t want them to turn out like you. Or me.

Ryke stays quiet, but I can tell he’s processing. The only person I told was Lily. That’s the only one who mattered.

“You’ll change your mind,” my father says like he knows me so well. He picks up his knife again. “And it’s okay if it’s not anytime soon. Hale Co. can wait.”

We finish eating and after all the tense conversations, it’s hard to remember why we were here in the first place. One of the servers clears the last dish, and I ask the question. “Who’s the leak?”

“That, I can’t tell you,” he says.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Ryke growls, saying exactly what I’m thinking.

My father ignores Ryke. “The good news is that I have it under control, and it’s being handled quietly. If I tell you two, I’m sure you’ll cause a f*cking mess that I won’t be able to clean.”

I don’t agree with him. I can’t. “I need to know,” I refute. “This isn’t some guy who did me wrong or f*cked me over in a small way.”

“You won’t change my mind, Loren.”

“Why’d you tell me to come here then?!” I shout, blindsided by all of this. We sat here for nothing.

“To have lunch with you and to tell you that you need to drop this. Let it go.”