The Real(82)

“Hey Dad,” I croaked out as I crumbled on his doorstep. For the first time in my life, I let him see that I needed him. “How . . . how about now?”





That night I sat at the bar staring through a hockey game. My conversation with my father on replay. I left out the details about Kat, but I was sure he knew. He spared my pride by keeping it to himself as I talked, and he listened. He was, for the first time in his life, careful with his words when it came to me. He didn’t lecture, he didn’t judge, he just listened.

And when all was said and done we were better off for it. It was a start. After he closed the door, I realized that he had the same need to connect as I did.

“Looks like they’re getting their asses kicked.” The voice came from the newly occupied seat next to me.

I mumbled a “yeah,” without a clue to what team he was referring to and motioned for the bartender for my check when I got a text from Max.

Max: Damn it, man. We’re all here. Where are you? Don’t do this again.

“You a fan of hockey?” The guy asked, indifferent to my vibe.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled out my wallet and turned to address him.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

“Oliver,” I said as my heart drilled out beats.

“Yep,” he said coolly, rolling a toothpick on the side of his mouth. He was wearing a tux and his tie was hanging loose on his collar.

Panic crept in. “Is she okay? Abbie—”

“Thank you,” he said as a beer was set out in front of him, he swallowed half of it before he brought his menacing gaze to mine.

“How did you know I was here?”.

“I asked someone where an asshole would go to get a beer around here.”

“Cute,” I said as he glared at me with clear accusation.

Oliver shouldered off his jacket and hung it behind him as he spoke. “I just wanted to see the face of the asshole who destroyed my sister.”

Irritated, I stood and placed a few bills on the bar.

“Are you here to take a shot at me? Go ahead but I can assure you it won’t fucking touch the blow she landed.”

“Why don’t you tell her that?” He said unaffected.

“Why am I explaining myself to you?” I said through gritted teeth.

“That’s a good point, why aren’t you explaining yourself to her?”

“I tried. She knows how much I love her, I made sure of it. And she knows me. She knows me better than anyone else on this earth. And she’s the only one.”

“But that’s not true, is it? If you’re hiding behind a wife.”

“Obviously you’ve never married the wrong woman. And I’m not hiding behind shit. And you don’t know shit, so say your obligatory shit and fuck off.”

Oliver released his cufflinks and began to roll up his sleeves.

“There are only a few things in this world I give a damn about and my sister is the first, so you will be explaining yourself to me, asshole.” He scowled at me with eyes the color of hers as he spoke. “Abbie’s a good woman. A little naive, a little bit crazy, but she’s never intentionally hurt anyone in her life and she doesn’t know her worth. I’m guessing you were the only one smart enough to figure it out and show her as much and then dumb enough to walk away.”

“Again, you don’t know anything about us, Oliver.”

He started to roll up his other sleeve, his voice ice. “Another thing I care about are my hands. They’re insured for millions, so, we can either talk this out like adults or I can play big brother and kick your ass to make myself feel better.”

I had him by at least a few inches and fifty pounds. Still, I knew I’d let him land any punch he wanted. It was the caveman in me that spoke. “By all means, if you’re a betting man and want to give in to that delusion, Dr. Dick.”

Crystal blue eyes the color of hers raked over me unfazed as I held my breath until the pain passed. “I need these answers Bledsoe, so I can try to figure out how to get her to lift her head.”

Razorblades sliced my chest as he spoke his plea.

“She’s barely breathing, man.”

I coughed out my emotion and ran a hand through my hair. “Want another beer?”





“Okay Abbie, you need this. It’s time to join the land of the living. No time like the present, yadda, yadda, yadda. Baby steps.” My phone rattled in my pocket and I checked the screen. It was another picture text from Cameron. I silenced it, unwilling to look at it until I was safely behind closed doors. They’d started a week ago in lieu of the texts and calls I wasn’t replying to. It was his way of letting me know he was still there. It had only been a few days since Bree’s wedding and I still couldn’t shake the anger so I found a distraction.

Rushing down the street toward the pub, I faintly heard my name called. Bennie sat next to the cigar shop entrance and waved at me from his seat on the sidewalk. Wrapped in a filthy black coat, he had several blankets piled on his lap. Guilty tears threatened as I made my way toward him and crouched down to greet him.

“Bennie, hi. How are you?”

“I’m keeping on, Abbie. I’ve been missing you.”

He looked terrible. It was obvious winter had done a number on him. His face was cracked, and his lips were peeling. My heart plummeted as I thought of how many weeks I’d missed seeing him at the café.