He doesn’t reply right away, just watches me as he leans back in his chair, his hand rubbing at his chin. He looks the same as he did four years ago but older. His blond hair is tinged with white, and his frown lines are deeper. His face is a little more haunted, maybe. Gaunt, even.
“I wasn’t sure you’d take me up on the offer,” he admits.
“I wasn’t sure if I would, either,” I reply. “Considering it took you twenty-three years to make it.”
Something flashes in his gaze, and his mouth tightens. “You’re angry with me.”
My chest squeezes. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and stare at him unwaveringly. “I’m not sure there’s a word in the English language that describes how I feel.”
“That’s fair.” He nods like he understands. Like what he did wasn’t the foundational experience that formed my life and how I live it. “But you’re here anyway.”
“I’m here anyway,” I echo.
“And you’re planning to stay?”
Tumultuous emotions run rampant through me, but I grit my teeth and nod. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
That’s bullshit. The fact he’s creating some illusion now is laughable.
You’re doing this for Brooklynn, I remind myself.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He hums and bobs his head.
“Why do you even have me coming back here? What’s your angle? It can’t just be because you want to parade me around like along-lostson, is it?”
I use the same words Benjamin did intentionally, gauging my father’s reaction.
“Youaremy son,” he retorts in a harsh tone. “That’s not a parade, it’s a fact.”
“One you sent away with a fake name and a mom holding a bottle of oxy for the pain.”
Stupid. I hadn’t meant to word-vomit everything, but I don’t see a point to keeping it all in. If I’m here, then I want to know why, and I deserve the gritty details, even if I’ll hate hearing about them.
Shock coasts through his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice about sending you away. It was the right decision, and I won’t apologize for it.”
I scoff, looking away from him, but my mother’s words from the other day play in the back of my mind. Tales of attempted murder and tampered brakes.
His chair creaks as he leans forward. “Whether or not you believe me, I’ve always had your best interest at heart.”
My heart stutters, but I grit my teeth.
“If your mother had warned me you were coming to visit all those years ago, I could have handled things more delicately.”
“What, because you didn’t want anyone to see us and find out about your mistakes?” I spit out, my gaze narrowed.
He frowns. “Because I could have protected you better.”
“So, you’re saying it wasn’t a complete accident then?” I lift my chin, swallowing over the knot in my throat.
My father steeples his fingers and gives me a sad smile. “Men will do many things when they’re blinded by greed and anger.”
I snort. “That’s a nice line, but it doesn’t answer my question.”
“For years, I convinced the Calloways the Montgomery line would end with me. Craig is in bed with some…less-than-savory people, and I had no interest in bringing you around when you weren’t old enough to make the choice. When your mother brought you here on a whim, Craig realized you existed, and I did what I had to do to ensure that no other attempts on your life would be taken.”