Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(24)

Gracen told me about the five songs, two I knew the lyrics to and three I didn’t. I have since looked them up—the songs being “Bringing Home a Baby Bumble Bee,” “You are my Sunshine,” and “The Circle Song”—and I’m determined to learn them.

I pick up the bourbon and slug it back, my eyes watering from the burn in my throat. I set the tumbler down and don’t pick the bottle back up again. I want to keep my wits about me.

Lilly must have fallen asleep fast, because Gracen’s footsteps echo lightly on the staircase as she comes down. I turn on the stool where I’d been sitting to face her as she steps into the kitchen.

She doesn’t even give me a chance to attack first. Her eyes narrow at me and she crosses her arms over her chest. Her voice is as soft as butterfly wings, though, and I know that’s in deference to Lilly asleep upstairs. “Okay. Let’s have it. You’re clearly pissed at me for something.”

“Mom…Dad…I have to tell you both something.”

That was the start of the conversation.

“I told my parents about Lilly yesterday,” I tell her through gritted teeth as I stand from the stool. “I’m sure you can imagine how it went.”

Gracen’s face crumbles and her eyes get glossy with wetness. I steel myself against it, though.

Lowering her face, she whispers, “How…how did they take it?”

In two long strides I’m before her, my hand going to her chin to force her face up. I lean into her and growl, “How did they take it? They’re devastated. Torn to pieces for everything they missed out on. For everything I missed out on. They’re not only hurting for themselves, they’re hurting for me too.”

“Marek,” she implores, but I roll right over her.

“They didn’t get to hold her after she was born, or change her diapers, or sing her lullabies. They didn’t get to fucking sit in bed with her and read The Three Little Pigs. They didn’t get to spoil her the way grandparents have the right to do.”

Okay, I might be laying it on a little thick, and I’d have to admit I’m probably pouring out my hurts and not my parents’ at this point. My dad was shocked, then he showed the famous Fabritis temper. He was pissed. My mom cried. God, how she’d cried, but toward the end, her tears were happy knowing she had a granddaughter.

By the end of the conversation, it was all about Lilly, and they asked a million questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. They’re getting on a plane this weekend to come and learn the answers themselves.

At the end, my mom told me something I didn’t want to hear. “Marek, you know that had to have been horrible for Gracen too, right? I can’t imagine the difficulty she must have had in making those choices.”

My mother had fucking loved Gracen like a daughter. They didn’t stay in contact when I left, although my parents would have loved to keep seeing her. I’m sure it was just too painful, though, for Gracen, and I understood that.

But I cannot understand how she couldn’t let them be a part of Lilly’s life.

I thought perhaps I’d rail at Gracen for a good long time, but my momentum is completely depleted. My hand drops from Gracen’s face and I scrub it through my hair. “They’re flying in Saturday. They want to meet Lilly.”

“Of course,” Gracen murmurs. She sounds thoroughly beat down, and I wish it made me happy to know that.

But it doesn’t.

It makes me feel ashamed.

I push past Gracen, my intent to head for my bedroom and some solitude so I can just brood alone while preferably watching a baseball game on TV.

“Marek,” she calls out to me. I stop and turn to face her. “Next time you decide to go off, you need to at least have the decency to let me know that you won’t be home.”

My ears start buzzing as heat flushes up my neck.

“Decency?” I ask her. I’m astounded she’d talk to me about decency.

“Yes, decency,” she says with her chin lifted stubbornly. “And the courtesy of letting me know if you’re not coming home.”

My laugh is hoarse, my expression condescending. “I owe you no such courtesy, Gracen. You’re a roommate. You live in my house. It’s none of your busi—”

“It is absolutely my business,” she growls at me with her fists curled tight. “When Lilly asks me at night where her daddy is and when he’ll be home and I can’t provide her an answer, well…it’s my fucking business.”

Guilt presses down on me. Awful, burning shame that Lilly asked for me and I wasn’t here.

I’m on the verge of vomiting out some type of apology when Gracen adds, “You’re a dad now. Start acting like it.”

Every bit of disgust in myself turns right back around on Gracen. I’m a fucking basket case the way my emotions have been reeling back and forth. One minute I’m angry. The next I’m smitten with tenderness for Lilly. The next I’m feeling guilty. The next I want to scream and yell at Gracen for her injustices. The next I want to kiss her.

Except right now I’m pissed, and I choose to focus on that. I stomp up to her, get right in her face, and snarl my fury at her. “I would know better how to be a dad if I’d had the same three and a half years you did to perfect this parenting shit, now wouldn’t I?”