The Vincent Brothers (The Vincent Boys #2)(60)

“I went to see both my sons’ practices last week.”

I froze. He’d called me his son. I started shaking my head, “No, no, you don’t get to do that. I’m. Not. Your. Son.”

I had to get away from this man. He was Sawyer’s father; I did not want to hurt him. But DAMN if he was gonna call me his son.

“You are my son. I don’t deserve you but you are mine. You can deny me. You can hate me and you have every right.”

“Damn right I do,” I roared.

“It doesn’t change the fact, I’m proud of the man you’ve become. The man you’ve become without any help from me.”

I was taking loud hard gasps of air. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

“Proud of me? Why? Because I can play some football? Because I’m playing at your alma mater? Because that’s just bullshit.”

Harris shook his head, “No, not because you’re playing on the same football field I once played on. Although, that does make me feel a touch of pride. I can’t help it. But that is only a brief moment in your life. The man you turned out to be is what makes me proud. You made bad choices and you got on the wrong path but you were also strong enough to get off that path and find one that would take you somewhere in life. The world wanted to call you a loser but you were so much stronger than they realized. You fought back. You grabbed the life you wanted and you fought for it. Even when the rest of the world didn’t think you’d make anything of yourself. You proved them wrong. That, son, is why I’m proud of you.”

I wanted to yell from the top of my lungs at the unfairness of this moment. I’d needed this man when I was young and scared. But now? I didn’t need him now.

“A wise man once told me that you don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to like me. But you need to know I love you. That I’m proud of you. All I needed to do was tell you. How you handle it or take it isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that you know.” He gave me a short nod and the worry lines and defeated expression as he turned around to walk away made something inside my chest burn. I didn’t understand this but I didn’t have to. Not right now.

“Harris,” I called out to his retreating form. He stopped and turned back to look at me.

“Yes, Beau?”

I swallowed nervously unsure how to say this exactly. Because his words didn’t make this better. It didn’t fix the past. “I don’t know what to make of this just yet. I may never know what to make of this.” I paused as a memory came to me of Harris standing at the fence during one of my high school football games as he thoroughly told-off my coach after I’d been pulled from a game. I’d missed practice the day before because my mama had gotten sick with the flu and I’d needed to take her to the Urgent Care center in Mobile. It was the closest free health care place around.

I’d been put in the game once the coach walked back to the sidelines. Every time I glanced back at the fence during that game, Harris had been standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was standing guard over something or someone.

“That game, in high school when I’d missed practice the day before. I was benched. Then, after coach got back from a very heated discussion with you, he put me in the game,” I stopped and studied his face and saw the answer in his expression. “You forced him to put me in, didn’t you?”

Harris gave me a sad smile, “Wasn’t your fault you had to take your mother to see a doctor. It was an unfair decision on Coach Madison's part and I reminded him exactly how unwise of a decision it would be to leave his best wide-receiver on the bench.”

This didn’t correct all the wrong. But it did tell me that at times, even if I didn’t realize it, he had looked out for me. I’d just not known. Other instances in my life when things looked bad and then all was suddenly okay with no explanation. Had it always been him?

“Coach wasn’t a big fan of mine,” I replied.

Harris raised one eyebrow, “Well, you weren’t exactly the most dependable guy on the team.”

I let out a short laugh. “I played just as good hungover as I did sober.”

The smile on his face wasn’t something I was accustomed to seeing directed my way.

“You probably did,” he agreed.

We stood there staring at each other as if we were afraid everything would go back to usual the moment he walked away.

“Look, son,” he cleared his throat, “or Beau if that’s what you’d prefer I call you. If you want to go get something to eat sometime, or get a drink, or whatever... just call. I’ll be there.”

He turned and started walking away when I didn’t respond. Before he got too far away I called out, “You can call me son, if that’s what you want.”

Epilogue

Four years later...

Sawyer

“Come here, beautiful,” I called out as I pulled off my helmet and held my arms open for Lana as she ran onto the field toward me. She was wearing her blue tank top that had the Florida Gator emblem on the front. I knew the back of it said Vincent #10. I’d had it made for her before my first game this season. She squealed and jumped up into my arms.

“You did it! You did it!” She rained kisses all over my face and I enjoyed every minute of it while holding her up with my hands cupped on her tight little ass.