Page 126 of Not Fooling Anyone

Yeah, I know he did. I heard it too many times. “But I needed you.”

“You were better off with your mother back home. Trust me.”

I look up at the mess of rafters in the ceiling above us. “No, actually. I wasn’t.”

“Lexie…” he starts in a patronizing tone, but I’m sick of him not listening.

“She was a hardcore drug user,” I interrupt him.

“What? No.” He shakes his head, furrowing his brow. “I mean, she dabbled in a few things a long time ago, but she cleaned up her act when she got pregnant with you.”

“Well, she apparently slipped back into the lifestyle once you left. It was a nightmare dealing with her.”

He shuffles back a step, staring at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She wouldn’t let me. She monitored my phone calls to you, made me swear I wouldn’t tell you or she’d take away my stuff. And you were hardly around anyway.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” His chin drops to his chest. “I… I didn’t like being around her either after we split. She was always asking for money, trying to get more than the child support payments I sent every month.”

I didn’t know he paid child support. Where’d that money go? Probably straight into her needle.

“If I’d known that was going on, though, I would have found a way to make it work having you with me. Lexie… I’m so sorry.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side, and I allow myself to accept his comfort, his apology, inhaling a shaky breath. I won’t cry, though. I’ve done that way too much lately.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks.

“Because I was still mad at you.”

“How was I supposed to know you were mad if you never told me?”

“Fair point,” I whisper.

“Is that how she… died?” he asks carefully. “Drugs? You were so adamant about not talking about it when it happened.”

“Yes.” I swallow compulsively, forcing the words out. “If I didn’t talk about it, didn’t think about it, I wouldn’t have to relive it.”

“Lexie.” He pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, murmuring nonsensical apologies, and I cautiously loop my arms around his middle in return, squeezing my eyes shut.

Maybe I should have confided in him sooner. Leaned on him for support. I’m discovering more and more lately that it’s okay to do that.

“Everything good?”

I open my eyes, finding Ethan there, finished with his stuff in the ring. God, he looks exhausted. “I told him about Mom.”

Ethan nods in understanding, wincing as he holds a hand to his side.

“How is it?” I ask him. “Tender?”

He gives me a resigned half-smile. “Hurts like a motherfucker.”

I need to get him home, then. “Dad, how about we talk about this more another time? You still offering that dinner at your place?”

I have no illusions that things are magically resolved between us. Not by a long shot. But it’s a start. Maybe we can build on this to become actually close, the way I wanted us to be when I was a kid.

He lets go of me and nods, apologizing again for everything that happened, but I don’t want him to get too caught up in that right now. He still has other boxers to coach today.

I walk Ethan out, taking his car keys from him when he keeps grimacing with each step, and drive us back to his house, drawing a warm bath for him when we get there.

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