* * *

Rob and I get measurements and create a list of supplies we need to build the ramp on the porch before he goes to the lumber yard and I start working on things in the house. Once my dad got too sick to walk, we had to convert the downstairs office at my parents’ house to a bedroom. Chaz doesn’t have any rooms on the first floor, so I make quick work of disassembling her bed upstairs to convert her living room into her bedroom until I can come up with a better plan or maybe make provisions for an extension.

I hear a car pull up in the driveway, and I look out the window to see Martin stepping out of Chaz’s car. No Becca. I continue to watch as he leans against the hood and pulls out his phone. He taps a few buttons then holds it to his ear. A second later he’s talking, lips moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I give up trying and head back downstairs to start moving the furniture to make room for the bed. I try to push him out of my mind while I drag the couches in all directions, attempting to find the perfect position. But he’s there, every interaction, every word spoken, every glare made my direction, he’s there… until my mind gets lost in the hurricane of his anger and hate toward me and before I know it, I’m stepping out of the house and walking over to him.

He says, “I’ll call you back,” when he sees me and hangs up the phone. “What do you want?”

“Will you at least tell me what your problem with me is?”

He laughs once—this arrogant, cocky laugh that has me balling my fists. I forget for a moment who he is, as well as the fact that he’s a fucking Goliath who could take me down in a single punch. “My problem with you is that my daughter contacts me, tells me her grandmother is sick, and that I need to come here. So I do. And what do I see? I see her in your apartment, practically naked, playing house as if nothing’s changed between you two. Do you enjoy taking advantage of emotional girls, Josh? Is that your game?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Oh, I’m dead serious. Every fucking time you show up in her life this shit happens, and guess who has to pick up the pieces?”

I shake my head, my eyes wide in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say to you. I know I’ve hurt Becca in the past but—”

“And you’ll continue to hurt her, because you can’t seem to leave her alone!”

I start to walk away, because I can feel the anger rising, feel it burning a hole in my chest.

“What’s your plan with her, anyway, Warden?”

I spin quickly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re going to go off and skate around the world, different places, different girls, throwing around your money like it’s nothing…” He steps closer, towering over me. “All while she’s in college, going to classes, pining over the boy who once loved her?”

“That’s not what this is, and what you think I do, isn’t who I am.” The anger doubles, boils, bursts. “You don’t know fuck-all about me!”

He fists my shirt, pulling me to him until I’m on my toes. His breath is harsh against my skin. Through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, he fumes, “You’re a punk who knocked up a girl when you were sixteen! And now you’re going to do the same with Becca and ruin everything she’s worked for! I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve made the same mistakes. You think I don’t know you, Warden? I was you!”

I grasp his wrists, trying to get him off of me, but he won’t budge. “Don’t you dare bring my son into this.”

His fists tighten, but he doesn’t speak.

“You and me—we’re nothing alike.” The anger’s gone now, replaced with bottled rage. “Because I’d never, ever, call my son a mistake.”

Rob returns in my truck, the tires screeching as he comes to a stop. “Get your fucking hands off him!” he yells, running toward us.

I straighten my T-shirt when Martin releases me and keep my eyes on his. “You want to come into her life and man up eighteen years too late, then good for you. But don’t ever compare us again. Because I was there for my son through sleepless nights, and colic and teething and every bad thing imaginable. And I’d never let anyone or anything hurt him.” I try to breathe through the agony, the burn, and take a calming breath so I can think. “Where the fuck were you all those times her mother abused her? Beat her to within an inch of her life? Where were you when she was crying, her nightmares a fucking reality? She wasn’t the mistake. You were!”

* * *

Luckily, Martin leaves, giving me time to calm down. I can sense Robby watching me, wanting to ask questions he knows I won’t answer, so instead, we focus on building the stupid ramp on the porch and moving the bed downstairs. As soon as we’re done, Rob gets a call from Kim telling him they’re on the way.

We wait for them outside, the tension between us building. “Don’t you dare say a word to Becca about what you saw,” I tell him.

“So I assume you will.”

“She’s going through enough, Rob. Please don’t make this harder for her.”

* * *

We settle Chaz in her new space while she tries to smile and nod through everything, but she’s annoyed. Frustrated. I can tell. Six people surrounding her, all fussing over her? I would be, too.

Martin returns, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, and a moment later, a nurse I’ve never met before shows up. This one’s here to make sure Chazarae has everything she needs at home, not just physically, but mentally as well. After making sure Becca and I understand what medications Chaz needs to take and when, she leaves, satisfied, with a promise to check in tomorrow. And as much as I love Chaz, as much as I want to be with her, it’s just too damn much with Martin around.

“Are you guys all right for food?” I ask Becca, standing just outside their door. “You need me to go to the store?”

She shakes her head as she pulls on my shirt, wanting me closer. Over her shoulder, Martin stands with his arms crossed and I fight the urge to scream, to shout, to run like a baby and tell Becca everything he said and the way he treated me. Instead, I kiss her forehead and ignore the disappointment in her eyes when I tell her I’ll see her in the morning.

I take Tommy’s hand and lead him to the apartment where we pretend like everything is good and fine in the world, and that one of the most important people in our lives isn’t a few feet away surrounded by people she doesn’t know, lost in a mind that’s no longer hers.

Mom comes by with food, and we all sit at the table continuing to pretend.

“Eat your broccoli, Tommy.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I don’t know if he actually does because I’m not looking at him. I’m staring down at my plate, my fork prodding my own broccoli.

“Remember when you used to call them little trees last time, Daddy?” Tommy asks.

I look up at him, my eyes tired. “Yeah.”

“Why would I like to eat trees?”

I smile. I can’t help it. Then I lean forward and push my plate aside, glancing at Mom quickly. “When I was little like you, I didn’t eat my vegetables, either. So your Pa—he used to sit with me at the table until I’d eaten every single one on the plate.” I point to Mom. “Nanni—she used to tell him to just let me go, that it was past my bedtime, but he wouldn’t. And then one day, he came up with this idea to make up an entire land made of vegetables.”