Operation Fake Relationship - Jay Northcote Page 0,23
finding the whole thing with you and your dad really difficult.” He kept staring out over the trees behind the house, unwilling to meet Nick’s eyes. “The sniping and tension. It’s… hard to watch.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know it’s awkward. But you know how I feel about him, so what were you expecting?”
Jackson turned to face him. “I was expecting your dad to be a grade A arsehole, so I thought it would be easy to be on your side. Not that it’s about taking sides…. But, Nick, I dunno. I just think you should give him a chance.”
There was silence. Nick drew away from him, eyes tense and wary. “Give him a chance at what? It’s not like he’s asking me for forgiveness. I haven’t even heard an apology from him yet—not for anything that happened in the past anyway.”
“But he’s trying to build bridges. I can see it in the way he is with you. Maybe he really has changed, Nick. I think you should talk to him, at least. Be honest about how he hurt you and let him have the opportunity to make amends.”
It wasn’t as if they’d fallen out over one specific event or at one particular time. Nick’s relationship with his father had bled out slowly over many years. A thousand tiny wounds, each one superficial on its own, had been devastating in combination. Maybe Nick believed there was nothing left to save. But Jackson didn’t think it was unfixable, not after meeting Reg.
“I don’t want to fucking talk to him.” His voice was icy. “And I certainly don’t want to drag up all the ways he hurt me in the past. I don’t trust him. Why would I want to make myself vulnerable again when I’ve spent years protecting myself from him? Why the fuck would you even suggest that? You’re my friend. You’re supposed to be on my side—and yes. It is about taking sides.”
Jackson felt a stab of guilt. “Shit, Nick. I’m sorry. I am on your side okay? I just want what’s best for you—and I thought that giving your dad a chance might not be such a bad idea. I thought maybe you could salvage a relationship with him. But maybe my judgement’s clouded on this, because….” His voice cracked, and he paused to try to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.
The anger on Nick’s face melted away into understanding and compassion. “Because your dad isn’t around at all anymore.” Nick finished the sentence for him. “Jackson, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He opened his arms and moved swiftly, pulling Jackson into a fierce hug. “I was too busy thinking about myself and my daddy issues to spare any thought for you, and how triggering this might be for you. I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry for being a shitty friend.”
“’S okay,” Jackson managed, his throat was tight and he squeezed his eyes shut to try to hold back the tears. “I didn’t realise it would be hard either… until it was.” He lost the battle against the emotions welling up inside him and a choked sob escaped.
Jackson had been six years old when the plane had crashed on a military training mission, killing his father and all the other occupants. When he tried to conjure up the hazy memories of his dad now, he saw a man who was like a giant, towering over him with a wide, kind smile. He remembered strong arms scooping him up, and sitting on his dad’s shoulders, looking down on the world in delight, yelling, “I’m taller than you now, Daddy!”
His father had laughed, a deep warm chuckle. “Maybe one day you will be, kiddo.”
Jackson had grown taller than his father sometime between his sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays, but his father hadn’t been around to see it happen.
He burrowed into the comfort of Nick’s arms, and Nick held him tight while his tears flowed.
Seven
The living room had barely changed in the years Nick had stayed away. Almost everything was the same from the patterned carpet, which hid a multitude of stains, to the pictures on the walls, to the now slightly faded sofas. With the Christmas tree in the bay window and the fire crackling in the grate, Nick could imagine he’d been transported back fifteen or twenty years. Even the fireguard that he remembered from his childhood was back, keeping Seth away from the flames, and the tinsel on the mantlepiece was probably the same piece they’d had for twenty