Page 109 of Best Kept Secret
I rub my hands together and walk through the archway, taking a seat on one of the sofas. Millie sits down next to me and places her hand on my knee, and I flash her a tight smile, telling her with my eyes that I’m so damn thankful that she’s here. She winks at me, and my racing heart eases some.
My father takes a seat on the sofa opposite us, crossing one leg over the other, and for a long moment we just sit here staring at one another, the tension between us thick and obvious, uneasy like a timebomb that’s going to blow if it’s not disarmed.
“Do you know what my first memory of you is?” I ask, my voice low and a little pitchy, raw with emotion.
Dad arches a brow but says nothing, waiting.
“When I was, like, four…” I shake my head thinking back to the moment that lives so vividly in my head. “We were all at the rink. I was just messing around, and you were helping Levi with his stickwork. And I shot a puck straight past you guys, all the way to the back of the net from the blue line. I was four, and I was so damn excited, doing my own little celly.” I shake my head, sniffing a laugh. “But instead of cheering me on, or showing any kind of encouragement, you told me to go sit out on the side because I was getting in the way.”
Dad looks down a moment, not saying anything, barely showing any semblance of recognition let alone regret. So, grabbing Millie’s hand and linking my fingers through hers, I continue.
“And then when we were playing juniors, and I scored my first game winning goal, but you missed it because you were too busy yelling at Levi for something he did wrong.” I narrow my eyes when my father’s gaze meets mine. “I have so many memories of you from when we were kids, and none of them are good. Not even one. I was like a second-class citizen to you. And I wouldn’t even care if I knew it was because you treated Levi like a fucking king. But you didn’t. You treated him worse. The constant pressure you put on him was borderline abusive. Man, sometimes I wanted nothing more than to at least be on your radar, but then I’d see what you’d do or say to Levi, and I was fucking glad you ignored me.”
He swallows. Hard. Something flickering in his eyes, like he might finally be starting to get it.
With a sideways glance at Millie, I see her eyes shine withemotion despite the gentle smile toying with her lips. She nods at me, and I reach into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the folded-up envelope. Taking a moment, I look down at it, at my name and this very address scrawled across the front in my brother’s messy-ass handwriting. It used to be white. Now, it’s sepia, worn at the edges like it could tear if handled the wrong way.
Hesitating a moment, I glance across at my father before handing it to him. He looks from it to me and back again, hesitating before reaching over and taking it, and when realization of what he’s holding dawns on him, he releases a heavy, shuddering breath, dragging a hand down his face. And, for the first time, I see just how old he’s gotten.
Taking the letter out of the envelope, he doesn’t read it for a long moment, just stares at it, tears welling in his eyes as he trails a finger over the ink. Then, shifting in his seat, he clears his throat, glancing at me momentarily before reading the words.
I’ve read it so many times, I know exactly what that letter says. Word for word. It’s been ingrained into my memory where I’m sure it’ll stay forever. I could recite every single word, every syllable, every goddamn comma, and I still remember exactly how I felt the very first time I read it. Shock. Sadness. Betrayal. Anger. And as I watch my father read Levi’s final words for the very first time, six years after he wrote them, I feel those same emotions all over again, my own tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
A few minutes pass and the silence is loud. Deafening.
Sighing heavily, Dad sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees and, with shaky hands, he folds the letter, tucking it carefully back into the envelope before staring down at it for another long moment, his face void of any and all expression. But then suddenly, and totally out of character for Geoff Cullen, a sob bubbles out of his throat, anguish twisting his features. He buries his head in his hands, broad shoulders heaving with the cries that rip through him.
I just sit there, staring at him as he falls apart for the first time. I’ve never seen him cry. Never. Not when Levi died, not at his funeral, never. He’s always been so big and strong, stoic to a fault. Seeing him like this is confronting to say the least.
From my periphery, I see Millie quickly swipe at her cheeks, and I place my hand on her knee, comforting her as I continue watching my father, making no effort to console him because yes, he deserves this, but in a fucked-up way I think he also kind of needs this.
“Oh, Logan,” he finally manages through a stifled sob, sniffling and wiping his tear-streaked cheeks as he looks up at me. “Son, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head, looking down at the envelope still in his trembling hand. “I’m sorry for not being the father you and your brother deserved. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough. But mostly I’m sorry that you’ve had to carry this for… six years.” He holds the letter in the air, shaking his head.
“I didn’t come here for an apology,” I say flatly.
Dad sniffles again, scrubbing a hand over his face again and nodding.
“I just… I wanted you to know the truth. Not because I wanted to hurt you. I mean, I did… yesterday… but then I realized that’s not what Levi would’ve wanted, and I felt like shit all night.” I swallow around the wedge of emotion clogging my throat. “I came here because I needed this.”
“Will you ever be able to forgive me?” Dad asks, his voice cracking.
I consider his question long and hard, and as I look into his eyes, for the first time in my adult life, I spot something that resembles remorse, and I know it’s my time to be the bigger man. “I forgive you.”
His face cracks again, and he rubs his chin. “Do you think we can ever… have a relationship?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe. With time. I don’t know.”
He nods once, looking down at the letter again before reaching over and handing it to me, but I shake my head.
“I don’t want it,” I say thickly. “I’ve held onto that for six years. You can do with it whatever you feel like you need to.” I glance at Millie, my gaze flitting between her watery eyes, and I smile at her. “It’s time for me to finally move on.”
She squeezes my hand, and I see the telltale glint of fresh tears well in her eyes.
“I’m happy for you,” my father croaks.
I turn back to see him watching me, a small, contrite smile ghosting his lips. “And, believe it or not, I only ever wanted was best for you. And for Levi. I just had a really… shitty way of showing it.”
I nod.
