Page 104 of Came the Closest

PETITION TO ADOPT

All that’s left is to take them to the courthouse. Justin advised me, in an unofficial capacity, to shore up my patience after that. He also said most siblings prefer to petition for permanent legal guardianship so their sibling won’t be an heir. But while Milo isn’t my biological son, I think he’s my heart son. Vincent signed away his rights immediately following my mother’s death, and the boy needs a father.

I’m determined to be that man.

“I’m proud of you, Colton. I…” Dad swallows and shakes his head. “I know I should have more to say, but it boils down to that. I’m ridiculously proud of you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. My elbows rest on my bent knees, and I resist the temptation to pluck a blade of grass to fidget with. “I’m going to need you, Dad. Not just for Milo’s sake, but…for me. I need my dad, too.”

He inhales deeply and looks me in the eye. “I’m here, Colton. I know I haven’t been, and for that, I’ll never fully forgive myself. But I’m here now. I can only hope that will be enough.”

I press my trembling lips together and nod, inhaling sharply. Dad sets the paper on the porch between us and sets his hand on my shoulder, just like he did on my first day at Del Ray in July.

“I’m scared I’ll end up like her, Dad,” I admit. “I’m trying—really trying—not to be, because I do want this. More than anything. But I’m scared I won’t be enough.”

“Colton, if I’ve never made this clear to you before, I did love your mother,” Dad says evenly. “I’m not proud of the hurt we put you kids through, and I never will be. But if I could go back, the only thing I’d do differently is be more present. I can’t speak for your mother, but take it from me, Colton. All anyone wants is your full, undivided attention. I just wish I’d realized that sooner.”

A tear jaggedly runs down my cheek and drips from my whiskered chin. “I used to sit right here and wait for you. I’d put those monogrammed silver cufflinks on my t-shirt and hold a baseball card and…” I shake my head, pressing the pads of my thumb and forefinger to my eyes. “And I’d wait.”

Dad’s grip on my shoulder tightens. I don’t want him to let go. The pressure of his fingertips against my collarbone, the weight of his palm, heavy and warm, through the cotton of my t-shirt—it grounds me. It makes me feel like, in an alternate universe, I would have been the boy who ran to his dad after he got home from work like Milo does with me.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. His chin lowers to his chest, and he shudders an exhale. “I’m so, so sorry, Colton.”

I look at him through tear-blurred eyes. “I know. I didn’t before, but…” I swallow hard. “I know now.”

Beyond that, I understand. These three months have given me so much, but they’ve also taken. I’ve been stripped to nothing, and I’ve built myself back up through sheer determination to never sink that low again.

“You know that the only reason I liked baseball was because of my dad?”

My brow furrows in confusion.

“If baseball was on, he’d sit still long enough for me to sit with him. Otherwise, he had his path, and nothing could slow him down.” Dad holds out a hand in front of him, and it trembles from the wrist down. “He was always moving forward with little regard for anyone or anything else. I swore I’d be nothing like him, Colton.” He shakes his head irritably. “And then I turned out worse than he was.”

My paternal grandfather died before I ever truly knew him, but between glimmers of my childhood and what I’ve heard, this doesn’t surprise me. Pierce Del Ray looks as formidable and unwavering in pictures as his son sometimes does—slick suits and stern expressions.

I wonder if his dad was like that, too. If maybe, in the history of the Del Ray name, none of the men had the resources to heal their own trauma and break the cycle.

Until my dad did.

“Know this, Colton,” he says, his voice steadying. “Know that you can break the generational cycle with Milo and any other children you have. You’re not your mother’s worst days and you’re not my worst days; you’re our best days. That makes you a force to be reckoned with.”

“I still miss her sometimes,” I admit hoarsely. “I liked to think I didn’t, but knowing she’s really gone, that I’ll never see her again… Sometimes I wish I had one more chance to say goodbye, Dad.”

He inhales sharply and rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I know, Colton. I know. I’ll always wish you and your brothers could’ve had that.”

Maybe it’s knowing I won’t ever have that chance. Maybe it’s Dad’s words about me being the best parts of him and mom. I’m not sure. Either way, it gives me the courage to say what I’ve needed to say for several weeks now.

The courage to make my decision final.

“I’m retiring from the circuit, Dad.”

His brows lift in subtle surprise but he says nothing.

“I knew it was coming, even before the interview.” I run my teeth over my lower lip. “I’m old compared to most guys out there competing. My body can’t keep up anymore, and truthfully, I don’t want to try. I guess I had to find out the hard way that it was time. I don’t feel completely ready, but I am. I know it’s time to say goodbye. It’s time to put down roots, so to speak.”

Dad is quiet for a moment. Long enough for a UPS truck to rumble by and for a group of teens to traipse down the sidewalk towards Palmer’s Park. Beach towels hang off their arms and I can see zinc sunscreen smeared on freckled noses.

I know I’ll miss it—the thrill of the ride, the resounding applause, the constant drive to be better. I do miss it. But not enough to sacrifice the ones I love.

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