Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
All I can think about right now is Jackson and how I pushed him away that night at Flirt.
That’s what it was really about, and somewhere deep down, I’ve known that this whole time. Because like Uncle Randy or Christian, people always leave me. I’m always on my own, having to fend for myself. And considering what I felt for Jackson, how I was falling so hard for him, I knew it was going to be too much if we kept going.
So why put myself through the pain and hurt?
But Uncle Randy’s right.
I have to hold on to the good, but I didn’t. I let it slip right through my fingers. And now look at where I am. Without my Jackson.
“God, I’m so stupid sometimes,” I tell Uncle Randy.
“We all are.”
“Mind if I cut in?”
I turn to see Jackson standing beside us.
“Hello, there,” Uncle Randy says, his eyes lighting up in a way that lets me know he doesn’t remember him.
Jackson chuckles.
“This is Jackson, Randy,” I tell him.
“Nice to meet you,” Randy says before turning to me and grinning. “Naughty boy. Don’t let me stand in your way.”
He moves aside, and Jackson steps before me, taking my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing.”
I go with his movements as he pulls us back into the circle moving around the room.
“You don’t know how to waltz,” I say, noticing that he’s just moving around.
“You’ll have to teach me sometime.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Gary told me you were teaching another class, and I figured we have some things that we need to discuss.”
“Usually this is the part where someone tells me I need to make a trip to the clinic.”
He smiles but then says, “I’m not here for that. I’m here for my boy. I don’t think either of us gave this a chance.”
I definitely didn’t. That’s for sure.
“You have to understand,” he continues, “I’ve spent eighteen years of my life dedicated to Steph and Zane. I would do anything for them. Because I care about them so much, and part of being a father is putting other people’s happiness above your own. I don’t mean anything against Steph or Zane when I say that. I didn’t put them first just because that was the right thing to do, but because of how much pleasure I got from seeing them happy. I can’t really explain the joy that came with seeing my own kid laugh. Or catching his first ball in Little League. Or seeing him bouncing around the kitchen when he just aced that test in history, which I’d been helping him out with for months, and I’d been sweating bullets because history was never my best subject…but I sure as fuck figured out who all the kings of France were so he could do a good job.
“There was something magical about having Zane in my life—something unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. But just like seeing him happy raised me up, seeing him sad…not getting picked for a team or being rejected by a girl…those things, they fucking tore into my soul. Gutted me every time. I don’t know that I can describe just how much something like that can hurt. And that night, seeing Zane hurt fucked me up. It made me confused and worried and scared about my family. It triggered all those worries that I dedicated half of my life to taking care of. And it made me feel like doing this thing just for me was wrong.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” I tell him.
“Zane and Steph, they’re my everything, and that’s all I’ve known. I don’t regret making them that because they’ve brought so much happiness and meaning into my life. Zane’s become everything I hoped he would become and more.”
“A kid who sneaks into bars with his fake ID?”
“A stubborn ass like his dad with a big heart. Who might stumble along the way and screw up a bit, but eventually, who doesn’t just think about his own happiness, but wants what’s best for others, too. Who wants what’s best for his old man. For him to be happy.”
“I want you to be happy, too.”
“I know that, Little Hurricane, but I’m telling you now, I can’t be happy without you in my life.” He raises a hand and brushes his thumb against my cheek and I tense up. “I know you’re scared, boy. I am too. It’s time we own that. We’re not those penguins. I’m not the other men you’ve been with. I’m not walking away and for all my talk about making sure you’re okay and being there for you, it was you who made me okay. You who taught me it’s okay to need help, so I’m asking you for help. I need you. You make me happy. We fit. Tell me I’m wrong and that you don’t feel the same. Tell me that the smile you get on your face and the way you light up when you see me is just in my head. Or that I don’t make you come like no one else you’ve ever been with before.”