Page 66 of Fear of Love
“I try but sometimes I stay late at the office and end up just ordering something. What about you?”
“I do most nights,” I answered, eyes on the peppers I was cutting. “I like to cook.”
“Really?” She sounded so surprised that I laughed under my breath.
“Really. When I was younger, my mom had to work late most nights, so I ended up making dinner for Wyatt and Mateo.” I shrugged. “I ended up liking it.”
The least I could do was help make dinner. She had to take time off to pick us up from school, and then most nights, she had to head out to her other job. I may have only been eleven but I was the man of the house, and I needed to help out where I could.
“Sweet of you to cook for everyone.” I appreciated that she didn’t give me any pitying looks. I got plenty of those whenpeople heard about how my father left us at such a young age. I didn’t want or need it.
“Have you, um…” The way Lydia hesitated made me put my knife down and turn around. It wasn’t often Lydia faltered when she talked. She was usually the type to just say it. I leaned back against the counter and waited for her to continue. She bit her bottom lip before she finally asked, “Have you spoken to your father since he left?”
“Once,” I replied honestly. I took a deep breath as I thought back to the moment. I didn’t tell a single person about it, not even Wyatt or my mom. Lydia’s gaze was curious as she waited for me to elaborate.
“About four years ago I got a call from a random number. I thought maybe it was Mateo borrowing someone’s phone. It wasn’t the first time that’s happened.” I crossed my arms, looking at the cabinet in front of me instead of Lydia.
“It ended up being my father.” I remembered the shock I felt when I heard his voice for the first time in fourteen years. I was on my lunch break at the accounting firm I worked at. I just stood there, my phone pressed to my ear, unable to do anything.
The last time I saw my father was the day he left. Wyatt and I were outside playing hockey in the front yard. I came in to get a drink to find my parents standing in the living room, bags surrounding my father as my mom stood there holding Mateo who was barely a month old.
I watched from the doorway as he told my mom he couldn’t stay with us anymore. That having three kids was too much for him. That was his fucking excuse. That having kids wasn’t for him.That was all he said before he grabbed his stuff and brushed past me. I remembered following him out, confused as hell. He didn’t even spare Wyatt a glance as he stood there watching our father get in his car before driving off.
“The prick didn’t even try to make small talk before he was asking questions about Wyatt. Nothing about my mom, Mateo, or me. It was all about Wyatt being in the league and winning the Cup Championship.” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice.
“You’re serious?” Across from me, Lydia looked at me slack-jawed, disbelief clear on her face.
“The only thing he cared about was his professional hockey player son. Wanted to know if he could get season passes.” Even now, thinking about it pissed me off. “The guy wanted nothing to do with us growing up, but suddenly, he wanted to be Wyatt’s dad.” I scoffed.
“When I told him to fuck off, he got mad, saying he was Wyatt’s father and that he wanted to talk to Wyatt himself.” The fact he only cared about Wyatt hurt more than I cared to admit. I was his firstborn, yet I meant nothing.
“What did you do?”
“I said what I had to so he’d leave Wyatt alone.” I shrugged, skipping over the specifics. I may have done a bit more than that, but I wasn’t about to tell Lydia the details. “He hasn’t reached out since.”
I told myself I didn’t care. That so much time has passed that it didn’t matter anymore. But I was a liar.
“Does Wyatt know?”
“No.” I shook my head. “None of them do.”
“You haven’t?—”
“No.” I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I couldn’t help it. “They don’t need to know.” If carrying that secret kept my family safe and happy, I’d gladly carry that burden.
Lydia was quiet, her eyes assessing. I waited for her to say I needed to tell my family. That I was being an idiot keeping it to myself the last four years. But she did none of that. Stepping forward, she gently pulled my arms away from my chest before hers wrapped around my middle in a hug.
I brought my arms down, pulling her close. Her head rested against me as she squeezed me a little tighter. I felt the anger and tension slowly seep out of my body as I dipped my head down by her shoulder, breathing in her perfume.
“You’re a good man, Landon.”
Lydia’s voice was muffled by my shirt, but I heard her loud and clear. Her words struck a cord, making my throat close up. Unable to form my thanks, I pulled her even closer.
As we stood there in the kitchen hugging, the burden of my secret lifted.
19
LYDIA
