it down. I knew you had the chance I never got and you walked away from it for what? To work at a gym?”
I’m momentarily thrown. “What the fuck are you talking about? Becky was pregnant. I didn’t want to play for the NFL. I wanted to be a father. I wanted to be here with my family.”
“Everybody needs money. And with a wife like Becky, you needed a lot of it.”
It’s like the rug is jerked out from under me. I take a beat to catch my breath. “Are you honestly standing there saying… You really fucking believed I was dealing drugs for money?”
“A lot of guys in this business do it.”
“So you turned your back on me just like you did Scout, who for the record is not a porn star. He’s a dumbass, but he’s not a porn star.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate to admit it.
Standing here across from him, I remember how I thought I’d react in this moment. I thought I’d grab him by the neck and shake him. I imagined yelling in his face what a son of a bitch he is. I planned to rail at him for the time he stole from me with my son, the memories I lost.
And that was before I knew he’d married my ex-wife.
I never expected this.
Shaking my head, I step over to the bookcase where a framed photo sits of Scout and me holding a football, so young and innocent. It’s all he ever cared about. “We’re your sons, and you fucking don’t know us at all.”
Turning back, I study my father. He’s my height, fit and muscular, and he looks like a very small man. Fifty-three and dressed in a track suit, married to a shrew who’s probably only interested in his money.
I pity him.
“If I was wrong, I apologize.”
“You were wrong.”
“Well…” He nods, and something like regret crosses his face. “I apologize.”
“You’re going to do more than that.” Returning to the chair, I lean forward. “You’re going to help me clear my name. You’re going to give me my son full-time, and it’s not going to be a discussion. It’s going to happen.”
His eyes remain on the desk in front of him. “I have no interest in starting over as a dad at my age.”
I go to the door and stop. He’s still sitting there looking defeated. I’m done with him. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
Becky is waiting when I return to the foyer. I’m not interested in talking to her either, but when our eyes meet, her thin lips press together.
Her chin lifts, and she shakes her ponytail back. “John?”
I pause, curious about what the fuck she might have to say to me.
“I never meant to hurt you.” Her fingers twist, and she almost seems nervous. Almost. “We married too young. Your dad was here. I was lonely.”
Is this how she’s rewriting history? “I was always here. If you were lonely, that’s on you.”
“You were here, but you were playing with Jesse or going to your grandmother’s or doing things with Scout. You weren’t here with me. I was alone. Bill was the only person who found me interesting.”
After what he just told me, I don’t want to think about why my father found her interesting.
Relaxing my stance, I don’t want to fight. I just want her to go away. “Look, you can let yourself off the hook. I’m not hurt. I only want my son.”
She has the nerve to look concerned. “What does that mean?”
“It means, he’s not staying with Alice. He’s moving in with me.”
“And I don’t get a say? He’s my son, too, John.”
“Are you pretending to care?”
“I’m not a monster,” she sniffs. “I don’t mind if he lives with you full-time, but I like visiting him every week.”
“I have no problem with you visiting him.”
“You’re not going back to California?”
Her question makes me hesitate, wondering how much she knows or how much she’s been able to put together. “I’m going back tonight.”
“It’s out of the question. You’re not taking my son to California.” Her eyes flash, and she steps forward. “Are you even supposed to be here?”
“No, but I’m working on it.”
She hesitates, realizing she has an advantage. “What would happen if I picked up this phone and called the parole board right now?”
Anger flares in my chest, and I step forward, looking down my nose at her. “If you do that, you’d better pray they put me away for life.”
Her defiance holds a moment before