Page 111 of His Greatest Muse

Pain washes over his features. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”

“Do what? Speak?”

“Apologize. Try to have a conversation that isn’t filled with resentment. I’ve done so many things wrong when it comes to you. So many things that I wish I could go back and change.”

I clench my jaw, pissed off when my chest pangs in response to his words. “Youcan’tgo back.”

“I know. But I can apologize for everything and try to move forward with you instead of against you. It was never my intention to allow things to become so broken between us. You’re my son, Noah. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment your mother told me she was pregnant.”

Love. There’s that word again. It’s still too hard for me to process that term and the supposed meaning behind it. When Tinsley said it, I couldn’t help but believe it. If there is such a thing as a single term to combine a cacophony of different feelings, the term would suffice instead of describing each one. She’s worthy of my understanding toward it. My father, however, is not.

“I don’t believe in love.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Why?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” He’s stubborn like Maddox.

I adjust my position on the bed and sit straighter against the mattress at my back, wincing at the tugging sensation in my side. The extra pillow someone shoved behind my back while I was sleeping has slid halfway out of its spot, but when I go to rip it all the way out, Dad’s already moving. He urges me forward just enough to put it back in place and starts fidgeting with the blankets at my waist.

“That girl out there loves you. Are you saying you don’t think that’s true?” he asks, not letting the subject die like I wish he would.

“What we feel for each other goes far beyond the basic term. But yes, she uses it. I know the depths of her feelings, so I accept the word. But you? I don’t know your definition of the word, nor have I seen that definition in your actions,” I tell him bluntly.

Green eyes tightening quizzically, he takes me in. It’s a long moment before he speaks again. “That’s fair. I have done a piss-poor job of showing you my love. I’m so, so sorry for that.”

“Apologies mean nothing to me.”

Again, he looks pained. It’s a relieving sight. He’s finally getting it—that I’m a worse version of that teenager he let push him away seven years ago. I’ve spent so many years resenting this man. Hating him for giving up so easily. Words are such pretty, fleeting things. Actions make an impact.

He tucks the blanket beneath my stiff thighs and sits back in his chair. His eyes drift over my side, still bare with only a bandage covering my wound, and he winces. I tap my fingers against the bed rail and wet my dry lips.

“Let me prove it to you, then. I know it took me too long to do this. It shouldn’t have taken you getting hurt for me to reach this point. But don’t for one second think that I haven’t missed you or hurt over the distance I let grow between us, because I have. The day you moved to Toronto, I cried for the first time in over a decade. I’ve been a terrible father to you, but I want to try and fix that. It’s going to take a long time to repair what I broke, but I’m not afraid of that. I can’t lose you again. Won’t.”

My stomach turns over. There’s an unfamiliar sheen to his eyes that makes my skin prickle with discomfort. They’re tears, and ones not from my golden girl. I’ve never seen my father cry. I thought him incapable of it until now. His words are the prettiest I’ve ever heard, but I don’t allow myself to believe in them. There was a part of me that shifted into the wrong place when he allowed the final rope to snap on the bridge keeping us together, and it would be too painful to allow it to shift again.

It's always easier to cast aside the promises of someone you don’t trust. Not so easy when it’s your father. Feels wrong to disregard them.

“Did Mom put you up to this?” I rasp.

His brows furrow as his head moves side to side. “She wants us to be a family again, yes, but that didn’t have anything to do with me speaking to you today. I want to be a family too. I want my son back. I’ve never been more terrified in my life as I was when Braden called to tell us you were hurt and in the hospital.”

Something painfully cold wraps around my rib cage. Doubt? Pain? “Mom had an emergency C-section with Adalyn. Maddox almost lost his career.”

“Those things did happen. But neither were as scary as thinking we could lose you.”

Two soft knocks on the door make the cold feeling inside of me dissipate, replaced with an overwhelming warmth. I divert my stare from my father and place it on the door as it opens, revealing my woman. Even with exhaustion heavy in her expression and the lines of her body, she’s stunning. We lock eyes, and everything is right again.

She smiles sheepishly at me. “I’m going to get some lunch from the cafeteria. Do you want anything? Jell-O? Pudding?”

There are already two Jell-Os on the table beside my bed. She’s been up for a while, it seems. I decide not to complain about her leaving my arms while I was asleep, considering that apparently, having her take care of me makes me almost as hard as taking care of her does.

“Jell-O is fine,” I tell her.

She beams at me, pleased with the approval. “Be right back.” Then, with a quick glance between my father and me, she lifts a brow at me.

I fight the urge to order her to come back to bed with me and dip my chin to tell her it’s fine instead. She lingers in the doorway for a brief moment before slipping out, leaving the door cracked open. The sound of footsteps receding down the hall lets me know she’s not eavesdropping.

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