Page 32 of Fool Me Once

“What gave you that idea?” I lean forward slightly, bending my neck to look up at him.

“Probably the fact that she’s here,” he deadpans. “Or hugged me.”

I inhale, letting the air fill my lungs as I come up with what the fuck I’m supposed to say to that. Clasping my hands together, I shrug. “Didn’t see the point, I guess. No sense in ruining two relationships, right?”

“Doesn’t seem like your relationship is ruined though.” He coughs a few times, and I wonder if it’s from nerves or his cancer. “She’s here with you now, isn’t she?”

“She’ll never trust me again.” I wince, looking down at the wood floor. “Not the way that she did back then anyway.” I swallow. “And she doesn’t look at me the same either.”

“Seems as though she doesn’t look at anyone the same, Sawyer,” he says, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I can’t blame her for that either. She’s been through hell.”

Yeah, and you’re to blame,I want to scream in his face, but I can’t because of too many fucking reasons to count. The biggest two being that his daughter is now scared to death of yelling and that—gee, I don’t know—the dude has fucking cancer.

If he had just stayed out of our relationship and not forced me to leave, she and I might be married by now. Who knows? Maybe we’d even have a kid or two.

Instead, she’s spent the past however many years getting beaten by the man she loved, and I’ve spent it sticking my dick in whoever looked good and was willing every night. Someone who wouldn’t ask to stay the night or have coffee the next day. A woman who was just down to fuck and leave.

When he’s met with silence from me, he sighs. “It’s written all over your face, Sawyer. You think this is all my fault.”

“No, sir.” I shake my head, never looking him directly in the eye.

“Bullshit, son,” he growls. “You fucking hate me. You think I pushed her into the arms of that monster. I see it in your eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter what I fucking think, does it?” I finally snap, flicking my gaze to him. “We can’t take any of it back. I can’t rewind time—go back to the day we were on this porch and tell you to go fuck your couch when you told me to leave her.” My chest is heaving now, and my heart is pounding. “So, What. The. Fuck. Does it matter? Why do you care what I think?”

Jesus Christ, you moron, shut the fuck up. The man is probably dying of cancer. He could fucking keel over right now, and his last memory would be of you yelling at him in his living room.

My inner thoughts are more logical than my mouth right now, and I remind myself that I am not yelling. I’m only talking, but in an angry tone.

The Will Jones I know would meet those words with a cold, scary stare and likely a threat that would send a chill down my spine. But instead, he just sits on the couch, though his hand lifts from Storm, and he puts it in his lap.

I drag my hand down my face, about to say that I’m sorry, but he stops me before I can. I’m kind of glad, too, because I’m not fucking sorry, and my mother told me it’s bad to lie.

“I just wanted her to chase her own dreams. The entire time we knew you, you took up too much space in every room you walked into. You were always the kid who was good at everything.”

“Then, why’d you make it sound like the NHL would never happen for me?” I snarl. “Why’d you make me feel like I was going to fail?”

“I think I said anything I could think of to just get through to you that you needed to let her go,” he says bluntly. “I knew you were going to make it. Hell, that’s part of the reason why I wanted her to live a life without you in it.”

His hand returns to Storm, making his tail wag a few times as he lies on the love seat beside Will.

“I didn’t want her entire existence to beSmith Sawyer’s wife. You know why? Because she was too special. She was too good. And I was scared that she’d just live in your shadow. Much like she and Saylor had throughout their time living here.”

His expression grows strained. “Now, I see how badly I fucked up. How much I had it wrong. If I hadn’t forced you to leave her, shemight not have had to live the nightmare that she has been living.” His voice grows thick and raspy. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

I look at him, and even though I should still be pissed, I can’t be. Because he knows he fucked up. And now, he’s sick. He could be much sicker than anyone knows because he’s kept it all pretty under wraps. It’s him who has to live with sabotaging his own daughter’s happiness.

I don’t even get a chance to respond or to tell him it’s all right. Because before I do, I hear footsteps creak against the floor.

“How could you?” Gemma’s voice whispers angrily as she stares at her father. “How could you do that to me?”

Will looks panicked, and his face pales even more than it already was. “I’m … I’m sorry. I thought—”

“Will, tell me this isn’t true,” Lori says, covering her mouth. “Explain yourself. I know we just heard that wrong. There’s no way you would …” She stops, her eyebrows pulling together.

“You thought what, Dad?” Gemma blurts out. “That forcing the man I loved to leave me behind, giving me self-esteem and trust issues, was a good idea?” Her eyes gloss over, and she shakes her head at her father. “I can’t believe you, Dad.”

As she heads toward the stairs, he stands. “I really thought I was doing the right thing.” He coughs. “I thought that, one day, you’d thank me.”

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