Page 93 of Tactical Revival

“You look pensive.”

I turn to face my father. This time, I’m not blinded by anger, so I can see the hollowness of his gaze and the gauntness of his face. It’s so strange to see him like this, when he’s lived in my head all these years as a healthy and intimidating man pushing forty. “It’s been a wild month,” I reply.

“I heard.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares out at the ocean. “Your brother filled me in on everything that went on. Your girl, she’s doing okay?”

“Margot’s good,” I tell him. “She’s strong.”

He smiles but doesn’t look at me. “That’s good, that’s really good.”

Silence settles between us.

Bradley clears his throat and turns to face me, so I offer him my full attention. “Saying I’m sorry feels pathetic, but I really am, Jaxson. I’m so sorry for everything that happened. For all of the pain I caused you and your brother. He told me about some of it. Of the things you did to survive.”

“I’m past it now.”

“I know you are. You’ve always been stronger than me. Even when you were young, you’d handle things better than me. When I started drinking, it was just my way of dealing with the unhappiness burning inside of me. I know now it was the enemy, trying to break apart my family—and succeeding.”

“You’re getting help now.”

“I got sober,” he replies. “You should know, I looked your mother up to try and make amends with her, too.”

“And?”

“She died a few months after I left.”

A knot in my chest tightens, and I press a fist against it. “That’s a shame.” I could have looked her up once I got on the force. I could have looked both of them up, but I’d made it a point to keep that door closed.

“It is,” he agrees. “She overdosed. I keep thinking back. What if I’d just been stronger? If I’d done things differently, we could have been so much better.” Tears stream down his cheeks, and his voice wavers. “I messed up, Jaxson. You boys leaned on me, and I failed you.”

My throat burns with unshed tears. “We survived.”

“But it should have been easier.”

“I’m not sure it should have been,” I tell him. “Does it suck? Sure. Was I angry? For a long time. But I am where I am, and I’m the person I am today because of the trials I suffered through. God brought me out of them, and He made me a stronger man for them.”

“He really did,” Bradley replies. “You do so much good, Jaxson.”

I swallow hard, trying to smother the emotion clawing up my throat. “You said you’re sick?”

He nods. “Doctors give me a few months, but to be honest, I’m feeling like it’s only days now. I’m tired.” There’s no fear on his face, no anger, just acceptance. And I wonder if he realizes that his reaction to what’s coming makes him stronger than he seems to give himself credit for.

“You’re doing right by trying to get things in order.”

He sighs. “I sure messed up this life. I could make excuses. My parents were never around, I never knew what it meant to be a father, but at the end of the day, they’re just excuses. And I grew tired of making them.”

His words are heavy, and they settle upon my shoulders like a weight.

“Jesus forgives us,” I tell him. “If you believe in Him.”

“I do. For a long time, I struggled with my faith, but I can honestly say that’s one thing I am certain of these days.” He smiles at me, and a knot I hadn’t realized was there loosens in my chest. “I never stopped thinking about you boys,” he says. “Tried to find you, but your mother had sold the house, and no one had seen her.”

“You looked for us?”

“For years,” he replies. “It wasn’t until you adopted your brother that you popped up in the system and I realized you’d stayed in LA. And by then, I was so ashamed of what I’d done, I drowned that shame in alcohol and hoped it would kill me. I guess I got my wish.” Before I can respond, he turns to me. “I came and saw you in the hospital.”

“What?”

“When you came back stateside. You were in a coma, but I came to see you.” His voice breaks. “You were already a man, but all I could see was my little boy.” He chokes on a sob. “Tubes and wires, bruises and bandages. I wanted nothing more than to change spots with you. To be the one in that bed.”

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