Page 80 of Faking Summer
"But this was never supposed to be real," she said, her voice catching on doubt. "I'm so wrong for you, and you're… you’re?—"
"I don't give a fuck what I am as long as I'm with you."
Before she could respond, we shifted on the dance floor, and two figures made their approach—her Nana and Papa. Her Nana's eyes locked onto mine, sharp and discerning.
"And who is this strapping young man?"
Caroline stiffened beside me, her grip on my hand tightening. I knew this was her father’s parents, two people she said had been the hardest in the entire family to impress.
I extended my other hand toward her Nana. "Reese," I said, my voice steady. "Nice to meet you."
"It's a pleasure," she said with a tight smile, her eyes flicking upward to meet mine. "You know, I have seen Caroline many times over the years, and never have I seen her glowing this way. You two make a beautiful couple."
"Thank you," I grinned, glancing at Caroline. "I think so too."
Caroline's papa stepped forward, not looking pleased. "And what exactly do you do for a living?"
Caroline spoke before I could. "He's only going to be the best pitcher in the MLB soon."
Her Papa's expression shifted, like she instantly lightened the mood. "Baseball?" he asked, curiously, as he turned to Caroline once more. "Don't you forget to bring us to a game then, dear. I’ll bring that jersey of mine I won back in 1981."
Caroline laughed a real laugh for the first time all night. "Will do, Papa."
The wedding had drained me, and Caroline stayed behind to help her parents and sister—they all had suites at the event center for the night. By the time I pulled into my driveway, all I wanted was sleep. But as I rolled to a stop, I noticed the downstairs lights were still on. At this hour, that could only mean one thing—someone was up. And from the looks of it, something was going on.
I killed the engine and dragged myself up the steps to the front door.
"Hello?" I pushed the front door open, but no one was in sight. My dad’s office door was open, though, a sliver of light was peaking through. I stepped closer, peering through the gap. The chair was empty, pushed away from the desk like he'd just gotten up and walked out.
Something drew me in. The closet door was open and usually never was. A box lay on the floor inside the door, half-buried beneath a pile of discarded papers and old ledgers. Its lid hung off, corners bent. I crouched down to get a closer look.
A flood of emotions hit me all at once. My fingers traced the cardboard, revealing envelopes, photographs, and cards discolored with age. I lifted a photo to the light, glimpsinghersmile—so much like mine—and felt the sharp sting of betrayal. Anger consumed me as I recognized the names across the envelopes. All addressed to me from my mom.
I went through the memories, pictures of her and Boston. Awristwatch buried inside had long stopped working, frozen at a point in time I’d never known about. She had been reaching out all this time. She was right about everything. Betrayal coiled in my chest like a snap about to strike. I had lost years with my Mother and with Boston because of him. My dad. He’d kept this all from me.
My fingers clenched around the edges of the cardboard box as I lifted it out of the room. The clinking noises floating down the hall told me exactly where to go. Ice against glass, and probably whiskey being opened, was all too familiar to me. I stepped into the dark bar area where my father stood, his back to me. He poured himself a drink with his sleeves rolled up. I could feel the tension in the room.
With a thud that echoed my frustration, I tossed the box onto the bartop. The contents jumped around slightly. "What the fuck is this?"
Dad turned slowly, barely flinching at my abrupt entrance. His eyes met mine for a quick moment, then he took a slow sip of his whiskey.
"It's nothing," he said calmly. The word “nothing” rolled off his tongue so easily, like another one of his courtroom lies. But the proof was right in front of him—proof that it was definitely fucking something—everything—hidden and kept from me.
"That's all you have to say?"
All these years, she had been trying, reaching out. Everything had been intercepted. In the corners of my mind, I’d always fought the vicious thoughts of her not wanting me. I felt empty, and I’d tried to fill that void with anything else—baseball, women, friends. Nothing ever filled it. He was the reason for that void.
He was silent at first, then tilted his head slightly before finally speaking. “Reese, you don’t understand. Everything I did was for you. To protect you.”
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the keys in my pocket, the sharp edges digging into my palm. “Was it?... because from where I’m standing, you took something from me—years I cannever get back. Were you really thinking about me? Or were you just doing what was best for you and your ego?”
I turned, heading straight for the front door. I didn’t even want to look at him anymore.
“Where are you going?” His question stopped me mid-step. “You have the draft in a few days—you need your head in the right place.”
I turned to face him again. The man who had stolen so much from me, hurt me more than he helped me, stood steady and unflinching. My gaze met his. “Does it matter?”
Then, when I thought I’d finally get out of there, his voice cut through the silence again. I paused, hand hovering over the doorknob.
