“Drake,” I whispered.
“Don’t say it, Charlotte; don’t tell me I was a child. I knew damn well what I was doing. I heard my mother’s tears every night after we moved to Seattle. I felt her resentment. I watched a once-warm woman turn cold. All because of me. Because I thought I deserved the world and I was going to do whatever I had to, to take it,” he raised his voice. “And then I did,” he whispered.
“Yes, you did.” I ran a hand through his mussed curls.
“And then I became everything I accused my father of being: a coldhearted bastard who only cares about himself.”
“I will disagree with you there.”
He opened his mouth—to argue with me, I was sure.
I placed a finger on his lips. “Drake, you did turn out like your father—I mean obviously, a misguided man like yourself.” I grinned. “My guess is, he let you go thinking he was doing the right thing, even as angry as he was, kind of like someone else I know.”
“I was doing the right thing by you,” he growled. “Did you just hear what I told you?”
“I did hear you. Do you think your father did the right thing, letting you and your mother go?”
He pressed his lips together, making his jaw pulse. It was his signature you’re-irritating-me-with-truths-I-don’t-want-to-admit look.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe your dad had a hard time being human, too, because he so badly wanted to give you what you wanted but he either couldn’t or didn’t know how?”
Drake’s face softened. “Why do you think I let you leave? I don’t know if I can give you what you want or need. I just told you what I did to my own family.”
“You told me the story of a boy who was no doubt full of pride, but I think he was hurt, too, and didn’t know how to express it. You wouldn’t feel so much guilt over it if you were as horrible as you think you are. You wouldn’t have punished yourself so harshly over the years. If you were so uncaring, you might have had a family just to spite your father.”
He brushed his hand across my cheek and into my hair. “I wish I would have let myself have you.”
That was excellent news. The news I needed to hear. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m still available. And I don’t think you are an uncaring person, but you need to face this, Drake—own whatever it is you need to, make right what you can and move on.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“Yeah, what did he say?”
A misty sheen covered Drake’s gorgeous eyes. “When he came to the end of his life, he also realized the mistake we had made. What we had given up. He, more than anyone, had helped me conquer the world.”
Jameson had worked to put Drake through school, and until he’d gotten sick, he was Drake’s manager. Jameson fought a long, hard battle with ALS. I came into the picture about a year before Jameson passed away. I had only met him a few times, but each time was meaningful. I had never met a brother prouder than Jameson was of Drake, and he had a wicked sense of humor, even being as sick as he was. I admired his fighting spirit. I hoped my own Jameson would inherit it.
“He admitted part of why he helped me so much was out of spite for the man who dared to love him and be the father he never had,” Drake added. “And all for what? Jameson never had a family of his own, and our relationship with our mother became stiff and formal. Just enough so we could ease our consciences. I think the guilt has eaten her alive over the years and we only became reminders of what she gave up. We only communicate now on her birthday and at Christmas. She refuses to take my call on Mother’s Day, saying she doesn’t deserve it. She lives simply in Seattle, not wanting anything to do with my money or fame, I think as her penance for the choice she made.”
“She chose her son.” My voice broke thinking of my Jameson. Thinking of her. So much heartache in one family. “I can’t say I blame her. Your child is a part of you in a way that’s unexplainable. I don’t know if I would have chosen any differently than her.” And if the man I loved told me to go, it would have devastated me. It had devastated me. I left once upon a time too. “Drake, you have to stop this cycle of pain,” I pleaded. “You have a son now to think about. And you have me.”
“I will do my best,” he whispered.
“That’s all I ask. We don’t need you to be perfect.”