Page 126 of Beautiful Broken Love

I stopped at the bumper but didn’t look back. Instead, I closed my eyes and inhaled before exhaling. Should’ve known walking away wouldn’t be so simple. Turning around, I spotted my dad as he lumbered down the stoop and came in my direction.

“I’ll meet you in the car,” Davina whispered, patting my arm. “Will you be okay?”

My eyes dropped to hers, and I gave her chin a light squeeze. “Yeah. Meet you there.”

When she was settled in the passenger seat with the door closed, I refrained from balling my fists as I looked into my dad’s eyes.

I tried not to focus on the bridge of his nose and how he had a slight hook to it like mine, or the way his ears stuck out just a bit ... like mine. I didn’t wantanypart of myself to be like him.

“What do you want?”

He stepped closer with a pleading hand in the air. “Son ...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay. Declan, look—”

“Try again.”

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, dropping his hand. “Deke, I was hoping I could get the chance to talk to you.”

“There isn’t much to talk about.”

“I know you’re angry with me, okay? I know you are, and trust me, I willneverforgive myself for what I did to you ... or to your brother.”

My eyes burned, and I tried not to blink. I wanted to turn my back on him and bail, but my feet wouldn’t fucking move.

He took another step closer, but not too close that he could touch me. I looked past him at the door, where Mama and my sisters were now standing.

“Look, even though I know you’ll never forgive me and that you’ll likely hate me for as long as I live, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you, son. I—I watch your games every time they’re on. I see how hard you ball and how much heart you have, and you’ve worked hard for it. There’s no one else who deserves it more than you.”

I felt my guard lowering, but all I wanted was for it to go back up. What the hell was wrong with me? All these years spent hating this man and fantasizing about how I’d punch him square in the face if I ever saw him again, and now I was softening.

“It’s a little too late to say all this, man,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I know it is, but whether I get to speak to you again or not, I just want you to know I love you, Deke. You may not think so, but I do. I know I did some messed-up things, but I pray to God everyday and ask him to let you, your mom, and your sisters forgive me. I made mistakes—actually, let me rephrase that.I fucked up.All right? Lord, forgive me for my language, but I really fucked up, and I know you think people don’t change, but I have been working really hard on becoming a better man and a better person overall so that those mistakes I made never happen again. I work on myself so lives like Damon’s aren’t lost. I ... I think about himevery single day, and it tears me up,” he said, voice cracking. “You gotta know that. It eats me alive, robs me of my sleep. I’ll never come back from that.”

I smashed my lips together, looking away when his eyes grew misty. I couldn’t believe I wanted to cry over this motherfucker. Even though he’d ruined me and I knew I’d never forgive him for what he did, I couldn’t help thinking about all those momentsbeforehe started drinking.

I thought back to when I was just a kid and he taught me how to handle a ball, how to shoot, and how to correct my form. He taught me how to cook spaghetti, how to swim, how to tie my shoes, how to flip a pancake. He took me to practice and showed up to every single one of my games.

Though the last memories of him were shitty and twisted, he was still my damn father. That’s what was messing me up—because I of all people know humans have their weak moments, and what he did to us was him at his weakest. He needed help, that’s a fact, and he never got it.

But no matter how sorry I felt for him or how much I missed that version of him who taught me everything, I couldn’t look at him andnotthink of my brother or that blood on the bed, the knife lying next to him, that letter crumpled in his hand saying it was alltoo much.

I looked over my shoulder at Davina, whose eyes were wide and worried. Then I looked at Mama and my sisters, who were clearly on edge and waiting for my reaction with bated breath.

All of them had chosen to live, despite their murky pasts. They no longer let those circumstances weigh them down. Instead, they carried them with them and found the joy day by day.

It was my turn to choose the same thing. Joy.

I closed the gap between me and my dad and instead of punching him, I hugged him. This wasn’t a hug of reminiscing, forgiveness, or even sorrow. It was a hug to let him know that I loved him—that I’dalwayslove him—but that I’dneversee him as the same man who taught me all my firsts.

There may have been a lot more meaning to it, but the best way to sum it up is to call it closure. This chapter of my life, where I carried all that sadness, rage, and guilt, was coming to an end. It was time to turn the page and start a new one.

My dad froze a moment before hugging me back and holding on tight. I heard him wheeze a bit, like the hug had given him so much comfort it hurt. He and I were about the same height, so it was an even hug, our heads over each other’s shoulders.

When he sniffled, I pulled away. “Just promise to keep working on yourself,” I said.

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