Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha #2)(52)

“I won’t,” I whisper as I feel a hand touch my lower back. I turn to look at my brother, who seems way more prepared for this than I am.

“Ready?” Chris asks.

“Yeah.” I give him a jerky nod, and Gus lets me go so I can take Chris’s hand when he reaches it out toward me.

With my knees feeling weak, I walk hand in hand with my brother into the diner where we’re meeting our dad, and as soon as we walk through the door, I spot him. He looks different from the last time, older even, sitting alone in a booth with his head bent over his hands, which are curled around a cup of coffee in front of him.

I absently hear Chris tell a waitress that we’re meeting someone but won’t be staying long as my dad lifts his head, and my stomach rolls when I catch a glimpse of pain shoot through his features. “Come on,” Chris says, and before I can prepare, he gives my hand, still held firmly in his, a tug, then proceeds to pull me with him across the restaurant to the booth our father is seated at.

Dad gets up to stand at the side of the table as we walk toward him, and I fight against the urge to either run and greet him like I always did when I was younger, or run away, back to the safety of Gaston outside.

“Dad,” Chris says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting me go to slide into the booth.

I hesitate, wringing my hands together, not sure I’m ready to do this. Actually, I’m sure I’m not. I feel eyes on me, and I glance at my brother, who’s studying our father, and then my eyes move automatically to him.

“Please sit, honey,” my dad pleads, looking worried as he takes a seat.

With my stomach turning, I slide across the red pleather seat, getting as close to my brother as I possibly can, and Chris lifts his arm, then wraps it around my shoulders. I lean into him as an uncomfortable silence settles over the table, and I hold my breath, waiting for someone to speak, knowing it’s not going to be me who breaks the silence.

“You both look well,” Dad finally says, and I feel Chris shift as the muscles in his waist and arm tighten. “How have you two been?”

“Seriously?” Chris bites out. “Over a year, and the first words out of your mouth are ‘You look well’ and ‘How have you been?’”

“Son,” Dad murmurs, and Chris’s body gets so tight against mine that I have to wiggle out of his hold, afraid he’ll accidentally strangle me.

“Son?” Chris hisses, leaning across the table toward Dad, who now looks pale. “Are you fucking joking? I haven’t spoken to you since you told Mom you wanted a divorce. I don’t know you.” Chris points his finger at Dad’s pale face. “You’re not my dad. You’re not the man who raised me. The man I knew as my father was honest, and he loved his family. I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Dad whispers. Even as angry as I am with him, I still hate the pain I see in his features as he looks between Chris and me. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes slide closed, and tears start to build behind my eyelids. “Give us something,” I whisper before pulling in a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I look at my father, the first man I ever loved, and beg, “Please, make us understand what happened.”

“I don’t . . .” He visibly swallows. “I don’t have an excuse. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“Chrissie and I are both grown. We understand people fall out of love; we get that relationships end,” Chris states, and I hear him pull in an audible breath before he continues. “What we don’t understand is you cutting us out of your life.”

“I didn’t want to hurt either of you, and I thought if I . . .” He jerks his head from side to side. “I didn’t think either of you would want anything to do with me after I left your mom.”

“Shouldn’t that have been our decision?” I ask, and he reaches for my hands on the table between us. I pull them away before he can grasp them and lean back, clasping them in my lap and shaking my head. “You should have spoken to us. You should have given us the opportunity to hear you out and decide on our own how to move forward. You didn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he insists after a moment, sounding frustrated.

Anger fills the pit of my stomach at his tone, and I lean forward. “I don’t know about Chris, but I want you to admit you messed up.” Tears fill my eyes, which are locked with his. “I want you to tell me you’re sorry for not reaching out since you and Mom split up, and I want you to show that you understand how deeply you hurt me when you didn’t even call to make sure I was okay after I saw you with the woman you left Mom for.”

“Tammy,” he inserts.

My head jerks back in confusion. “What?”

“My wife’s name is Tammy.”

“Your wife. The woman you cheated on our mother with for God knows how long doesn’t factor into this situation,” Chris hisses, and Dad leans back with his jaw ticking. “What you’re not getting is that she means nothing to us, because you didn’t want her to. After you left Mom, you didn’t introduce us to her. And you sure as fuck have never given us the opportunity to get to know her. She is just the woman you married after you left our mother, the woman who knew you had a family but was okay with carrying on a relationship with you for however long before you decided to end things with your wife and marry her instead.”