Page 79 of Just My Ex

“Can we just drop the whole, almost drowning thing?” Alec says. “I wish I hadn’t swum across the lake. We haven’t exactly been close since then.”

“I’d like to change that, though,” Henry says, his face tortured. “I know it’s not that simple. I know some things can’t be repaired after they’re broken.” His gaze shifts to mine before landing on the floor. He looks up again. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going to stop trying.”

Alec only shifts in his stance, repositioning his folded arms. “Some things are too little, too late.”

Henry nods. “That’s fair.” His voice is quiet. “It may well be too little, too late.” He swallows hard. “But I’m not going to give up yet.”

His gaze meets mine, searing me.

Chapter 32

Henry

Gabriel goes in search of some chef’s clothes when I leave the room full of Tate family memories all over the floor, still breathing hard from the altercation with Alec. Maybe that’s what we needed, a little pushing and shoving to get our aggression out.

Why have I stayed away these past ten years? Ten years. It’s a long time. I can blame the Army. I can blame the Ostlins and Carla. But the root of this is on me.

My absenteeism is on me. As was evident in my conversation with Quinn last night.

I’ve let my issues with my father affect my relationships with my whole family, and I’ve hurt them. Especially Quinn.

I spend the next twenty minutes walking the perimeter of the property, fiddling with the cameras my parents installed and checking in with the security team at the resort.

Might as well keep busy.

I return to the house because I don’t want to be even more of a jerk and not help with the photos, and Quinn’s writing labels on large manila envelopes. She flicks me a look like,Ya done throwing a tantrum now?“We’re starting to go year by year, at this point, organizing them by month. Roughly.”

“Where’s Mom?”

“She went to lie down.” The look Quinn is giving me has me immediately chastened.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry about that.” I turn to look at Navie. Looks like she’s abandoned the chef’s hat and coat and is now on the sofa next to Quinn, turning the pages of a picture book.

I kneel in front of her. “Navie, did you see me fighting with Uncle Alec?”

Navie gives me a look not unlike her mother’s. “Yep.” She emphasizes the pop of the “p” in “yep.”

I deserve the sauciness.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry I did it.”

“Say sorry to him,” Navie says, pointing to Alec.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Mommy has taught you well. You’re right. But I wanted to apologize to my girl first. I shouldn’t have let my anger take over. I should have breathed and gone to take a walk sooner …”

She’s still looking at the pictures in her book. “And you should have not fighted with your brother.”

“You’re right. I should not have fighted with my brother.” I place a hand on her arm. “You’re pretty smart.”

Navie just gives a pointed look at Alec and then shows me the picture she drew. I stand. I do regret fighting with Alec. But we’ve done that a hundred times growing up and I never apologized before. Doesn’t make it right, but it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.

I step toward Alec and he’s pointedly ignoring me, scanning photos rapidly, clicking things on the computer.

This sucks. Why is apologizing so hard?

“Alec? I’m sorry about shoving you against the wall and—”

He doesn’t look up. “If anything, I shovedyou.”

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