Page 49 of Seeing You

“I miss her,” Marcus admitted, his own voice thick with emotion. “I try not to think about it, but…”

“She would hate that,” his father whispered before clearing his throat. “She would hate knowing you found it too painful to think about her. It’s one of the reasons she didn’t want you boys to know about her being sick. She wanted genuine memories with you, not ones that were forced or purposely fabricated because you knew she was dying.”

It took everything in him to stay calm and not argue.

“The thing is, Marcus, your mother was the strongest person I’ve ever known in my entire life. There wasn’t anyone that she wouldn’t help. She wasn’t afraid to try anything, and she loved life. Those six months of treatment were…they were awful. Every day was a struggle for her. When she went for the next round of scans and the cancer had spread—it was more aggressive than the doctors thought—she told me she’d rather live the rest of her time without struggling.”

He paused, and Marcus saw him wiping his eyes.

“I know you think we should have done more—thatIshould have done more—but what I did was honor her wishes, even though it damn near killed me.”

“Dad…”

“You can hate me all you want, but I couldn’t save her. If I could have traded places with her, I would have in a heartbeat. I would have sold my soul to the devil if it meant taking away her pain.” Pausing, he pushed his plate away. “I like to think of her dancing in a field of flowers up in heaven—pain free and just as beautiful as ever. I see her in every rainbow, every sunrise and sunset. I see her everywhere I look in this house.” Another pause. “I see her in you and your brother. You got her stubbornness, that’s a given, and Max got her charm.”

He refused to take it personally because it was completely true.

“Your mother…one of the last things she said to me was…no regrets. She hated like hell that she wasn’t going to be here withall of us, but she loved the life she was blessed to live. Me? I have regrets. Lots of them. Every petty argument, every time I lost my temper, every time I just had to be right, every time I worked late…I lost those moments—those precious moments that you never get back. What I wouldn’t give to turn back the hands of time and handle things differently.”

Swallowing hard, all Marcus could do was nod.

“This is all I’m gonna say and then I’m going to lie back and take a nap—don’t live with regret, son. I know you have them. If you have the chance to be happy, grab it with both hands. Tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us and trust me, there will come a time when it’s too late.” He winced as he shifted slightly in his chair. “Thanks for the sandwich. Wake me up before you go pick up the cake.”

He was asleep in less than a minute, and Marcus envied him for that. He hadn’t slept well in years, no matter how exhausted he was.

And sleeping in his childhood bedroom had him sleeping even less.

Popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, he glanced over at his father. This had been the first time since his mother’s death that they’d been this honest with each other, and it was the first time he had ever listened instead of reacting. Being older and hopefully more mature, he realized how his emotions had played a big role in how he reacted to his losing his mother. It seemed natural to blame his father, but…listening to him talk about his grief, well…it made him feel ashamed of how he’d been carrying on all these years.

Max’s words from last week came back to him.

You act like you’re the only one who grieved, or the only person who’s ever been hurt. Newsflash, bro, we all have.

Thathadbeen his thinking all these years. He took his mother’s death personally instead of recognizing that they all lost her, not just him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he leaned back against the cushions. It was bad enough being here when he didn’t want to. It was worse now that he was being forced to deal with all these feelings.

And regret.

Because yeah, he had a boatload of that.

Not just where his father and family were concerned, either, but with Billie.

Again.

“I’m too old to keep screwing up this much.”

It was easy enough to say, but he was far too clueless—and possibly stubborn—to know what to do to change anything. It wasn’t like he was going to go to sleep tonight and wake up a different person. Dickens’s three ghosts certainly weren’t going to come and show him his past, present, and future.

It was crazy to wish it were possible, but he kind of did. Right now, he’d love a freaking road map to tell him what he needed to do to or how to stop being the way he was.

Although, to be fair, he was here taking care of his father. Granted, he did it begrudgingly, but he was still here. Plus, he had come back a few weeks ago as well when Max had reached out to him. So maybe he was already on the right path with his family.

But what about Billie?

Yeah, that one was infinitely harder because he had screwed up so many times, even the times he didn’t realize it.

Thinking back to the things Billie tried telling him at dinner, it made him reassess their time together and it was shocking when he realized all the signs that he’d missed. It was easier toblame her for being unreasonable when the truth was that he was the villain in their story, not her.

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