Rival (Fall Away, #2)(83)

“I think so,” she said softly. “And if he got married tomorrow, I’d be worried as hell, but I’d know he was following his heart. I mean, look at us, Jason. Who’s to say they can’t make it at eighteen when we failed long after that age? Are we experts?”

Damn. Invisible hands wrung out my stomach like a washcloth. My dad knew I was married.

I heard hard footsteps. “It’s not about that. It’s about priorities, Katherine. My son needs to finish college. He needs to experience life. He’s been given the gifts of privilege and opportunity. Now he has a distraction.”

I took Fallon’s hand and held her eyes with mine.

There was some shuffling around the office, and then I heard the wheels of my father’s desk chair shift as he let out a huge breath. He must’ve sat down. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to figure out if he was angry or upset. I couldn’t tell. I heard a grunt and some more heavy breathing. It sounded like hyperventilating. But not.

“I messed up.” His voice caught, and I heard the tears.

“Shh, Jason. Don’t.” Katherine started to cry as well.

My father, I thought. My dad is crying. My chest got heavy, and I looked down to see Fallon’s thumb rubbing back and forth on my hand. When I looked up, her chin was quivering.

“My house is empty, Katherine.” His voice was so sad. “I want him home.”

“We weren’t good parents,” she choked out. “Our kids have paid for our lifestyle, and now it’s our turn to pay for theirs. He’s got a girl that he can’t stay away from. They’re not doing this to hurt you, Jason. They’re in love.” And I smiled at her words. “If you want your son back,” she continued, “you need to open your arms wider.”

I clasped Fallon’s hand tighter and whispered, “I need a few minutes alone.”

Her watery eyes sparkled, and she nodded her understanding. Walking past me, she headed for the kitchen.

Pushing the door open, I saw my father in his desk chair, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. Katherine was kneeling in front of him, comforting him, I assumed.

“Ms. Trent?” I called, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “Can I talk to my dad alone, please?”

Both of their heads popped up, and Katherine stood.

She looked beautiful in a cream-colored forties-style house dress with red polka dots on it. Her chocolate dark brown hair—the same shade as Jared’s—hung over her shoulders in loose curls, but pieces were brought up in two barrettes on each side of the top of her head.

My father, on the other hand, was a mess. Disheveled hair he’d probably been running his fingers through, a wrinkled white shirt, blue silk tie hanging loose, and he’d definitely been crying.

He sat there, unmoving, and actually looking a little afraid of me.

Katherine cleared her throat. “Of course.”

I stepped out of the doorway as she walked past, but I reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. I kissed her cheek and gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks,” I whispered.

Her eyes shined, and she nodded before leaving.

My father hadn’t moved from his chair, and I did a sweep of the room, remembering that I was never allowed in here as a kid. My father wasn’t hiding things. Not in here anyway. But he once said “his whole life” was in this room, and it wasn’t a place for kids.

I think that was the first time I realized that I wasn’t my dad’s top priority. There were things he loved more than me.

But looking at him now . . . his weary eyes, his physical strain, and the silence that told me he didn’t know what to say to me offered up a different conclusion.

Maybe my dad cared.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward him. “I never liked you, Dad.” I spoke slowly, taking my time. “You worked too much, and you never showed up when you said would. You made my mother cry, and you thought money could fix everything. And the worst part is that you’re not stupid. You knew the void you left in your family, but you did it anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes, challenging him to say something. Anything to account for himself.

But his eyes had dropped to the desk with my first words, and they had stayed there.

So I continued, straightening my shoulders more. “I love Fallon. And I love this house. I want you in my life, but if you’re going to throw your weight around like it matters, then you can go to hell.” I paused, coming up in front of the desk. “We don’t need you. But I do love you, Dad.”

My jaw tightened, and I blinked away the sting in my eyes.

He raised his eyes, and it was a look I’d never seen before. They shimmered with tears, but they were hard. My father wanted to fight. In his head he worried about my education, Fallon and me having jobs, dealing with marriage when we were still growing up, but that’s what he didn’t notice.

I’d stopped growing up when Fallon left.

And I started again when she came home.

You have to have something to love. Something to fight for to make living a goal instead of a job. Fallon wouldn’t keep me from tomorrow. My father had done that.

I held his stare, ready for whatever he wanted to throw at me, but he should know better. If he didn’t support us, we were doing it without him.

Finally standing up, he ran his hands through his hair and tightened his tie. I watched him as he went to his safe, dialed in the combination, and took out some papers. Returning to his desk, he signed the document and handed it to me over the desk.