Page 55 of Roughing the Player
“No, sweetheart. You didn’t. I wanted you from the first.”
“How could you want me? You were seventeen withyourwhole life ahead.”
“But I had one thing he didn’t have. A great mom. Grandma made sure we were okay. We moved to another town where nobody knew who I or your father were. Her support and Steve’s allowed me to finish high school, attend college.”
She swipes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “But why didn’t you tell me once I was old enough?”
I clasp my hands to keep them from trembling. “By then the lie had grown so big, I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“If he hadn’t come to Chicago, I would have never known, would I?”
Her tear-streaked face breaks my heart. “No. I would have never told you.”
She takes a shuddering breath. “I need to be alone right now.”
What did I expect? That she would throw her arms around me, hug me and tell me she understood? No. I didn’t. Still, her rejection hurts. “Come on, Butch.”
“Let him stay.”
“All right.” I walk out, closing her door softly behind me.
As soon as I step into the hallway, my held tears rain down my face. I deserve every accusation, every reproach from her. Plain and simple, I screwed up. Once she was old enough to understand, I should have told her. But I didn’t. I was too afraid her love would turn to hate. Which is exactly what’s happening now. And, unfortunately, she’s not the only one.
