The reason I’m a fighter.
The reason I am the man I am today.
Yes, I invited my dad to the gym to talk—if I was going to meet him, it had to be on my turf—but for some reason, I didn’t think he’d actually show up.
Or rather, I think I was hoping he wouldn’t show up. And I thought he’d at least give me a heads-up.
“Jaxson. Good to see you, Son.”
The feeling is not mutual, but I get up and gesture for him to take a seat. I’m not ready to shake his hand, and we definitely don’t have the type of relationship where a hug is called for, but I did invite him, so the least I can do is not be a complete asshole.
He looks exactly how I remember, but so different at the same time. Years in prison haven’t been kind to him. He looks older than his 53 years. He’s lost weight as well as the little muscle definition he had.
But the confidence is still there. The way he holds himself is how he always made everyone in a room think he was someone special. Or someone not to be messed with. And he still has the same cockiness that paved the way for him to run illegal gambling rings around the city.
“How long you been out?”
“A little over a week,” he says as he looks around the office. “You’re doing well for yourself. Who knew that me getting you into boxing would lead to this?”
The noise I make comes out somewhere between an exasperated breath and a groan. He says it like he signed me up for Little League and I ended up in the majors.
“Glad to know that you using me for your illegal shit at least worked out for one of us.” I can’t help but make the dig.
He lets out a sigh and looks straight at me. This is the reason why he’s so good at what he does. He can always look a man in the eye, and only the people who have known him for years can tell whether or not he’s telling the truth.
But I know his tells. That’s why I needed him to come here. I need to look him in the eye when he tells me he wants to make amends.
“Son, I don’t want to live in the past.”
“No, fuck that. You don’t get off that easy. You might have done time, but you and I both know it’s not even close to how long you deserved. So before we let this go any farther, I need to know—right now—what you meant when you sent those letters.”
No sense in shooting the shit.
“Like I said, I had a lot of time to think, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for—”
“For what?” My words cut him off as my anger has now boiled over and I can’t contain it. “For getting me mixed into your shit without giving me a say? For using me for your fucking fights? For being the worst husband known to man? For getting my sister—your daughter!—killed? Or just for generally being a horrible human? Because I’ll be honest, Stan, I’m having a bit of a problem keeping up with all of the things you need to apologize for.”
I’ve never before unleashed on him like that. After Abigail died, I wouldn’t speak to him. Probably because I was afraid I would kill him. Mom had finally divorced him a few years before that, so she didn’t like speaking to him most days anyway. But after Abigail died? Hell, I was pretty sure if she saw him, she’d kill him on the spot and then spit on his body.
A few months after Abigail’s death, the cops finally got enough on him and he went to jail. I never visited him.
“I deserve that.”
“No shit.”
We sit in silence for the next few minutes. There’s so much to say, yet neither of us wants to be the first to crack.
“I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I want you to know, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about your sister.”
“Me too.” That’s the one thing we have in common.
“I’ve changed, Jaxson.”
“How do I know that? You’ve lied to me my whole life. How am I supposed to know when you’re finally telling the truth?” It’s a fair question. Words only mean so much.
“I know it was my fault.”
I nod, though I’m a little stunned by his admission. “I’m glad you can admit that.”
I know he didn’t attack her, but the men who killed her were after him. Her blood is as much on his hands as the two men who beat her to death.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself. But I’ve already lost one child and I don’t want to lose another.”
“You lost me a long time ago.”
“That’s fair. And I don’t expect you to welcome me back with open arms. But I’d like to start fresh. As I said in the letters, clean slate and all that.”
He hasn’t used any of his tells. No slight twitch in his eye or pulling on his earlobe, which were always his go-tos when he was nervous about a situation. Or so I put together after it was too late.
But this is Stan we’re talking about—the man I’m pretty sure ran his first gambling ring in preschool. I have a business here that I’m proud of, and Reggie and I have made sure it’s stayed clean and on the right side of the law. Do I want him anywhere near my life? This business?
Or near Annabelle?
“I don’t know.” It’s the most honest thing I can say. “I didn’t expect you to be here this long. I figured I would have kicked you out five minutes after you walked in. Hell, I didn’t even know if you’d show up.”
“That’s fair. But I’ll do anything. Your terms.”
I let out a breath. This is a lot to take in.
“I need time to think.”
We stand up and he reaches his hand out for mine. I shake my head, not ready for that yet. He nods in understanding.
“I get it, Jaxson. You know where to find me.”
“I do.”
I figured he’d turn to leave, but the newest addition to my office catches his eye.
“Nice painting. Didn’t peg you for an artsy type.”
I don’t need to turn to know what he’s looking at: one of Annabelle’s recent pieces.
“I’m not. It’s my . . . my girlfriend painted it.”
That gets his attention. “You’re seeing someone?”
The smile that breaks out on my face is the one I can’t control when someone mentions her. Even if it’s my deadbeat dad.
“Yeah. And she’s the one you need to thank. She’s the reason you’re here today.”
“I’d love to thank her one day.”
And like she could sense us talking about her, my Annabelle comes walking into my office with that smile I love so much.
Except Annabelle being in the same room with my father is an unknown I may not be ready for.
29
Annabelle
I had no idea what to expect when I was hired to teach at the art gallery. I never saw myself as a teacher. I never even entertained the thought. The dream was always to open my own gallery and share my art with the world.
But as soon as my first student walks into the room, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Since it’s still summer, the gallery is filled with classes for all ages. The day flies by in a haze of paints, colors, and ideas. The kids are just as excited for a new teacher as I am to be with them.
When my last student leaves, I sit down and let out the most satisfied breath. I’m covered in paint. My hair probably looks like a rat’s nest atop my head. And I’ve never been happier.
I just survived my first day as an art teacher, and I can’t wait to tell Jaxson about it.
I straighten up the room and head for The Pit as quickly as I can. I’m supposed to meet him at the loft tonight, but I can’t wait that long. I want to tell him every detail.
Since it’s after 5, Reggie is long gone, and the night crew is bustling around, giving classes or talking with members. I’m waving at a few, now feeling like a part of this family, when I hear an unfamiliar voice coming out of Jaxson’s office.
“And she’s the one you need to thank. She’s the reason you’re here today.�
�
“I’d love to thank her one day.”
Is that his dad?
I knew Jaxson had reached out to him, but I didn’t know they had agreed to meet.
I hope it went okay. I know I encouraged Jaxson to reach out to him, but I had no idea how he’d handle seeing him after all this time.
Considering both are still standing and neither is bleeding, I guess it could have gone worse.
I consider stepping back, not wanting to interrupt whatever is going on there, but Jaxson sees me before I can back away.
I give a shy smile and walk in, though I have no idea how to act. This isn’t a normal “meet the parents” situation. This is a man Jaxson hates—who has done a lot of horrible things and hurt the ones he supposedly loved.
Jaxson reaches for my hand, knowing I’m out of my comfort zone, and brings me against him. He leans down and kisses my head.
“Stan, this is Annabelle. Annabelle, this is my dad, Stan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say with a hand extended.
He takes it and gives me a firm but not overpowering handshake.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Annabelle. I was just admiring this painting. Jaxson said you made it? You are quite good!”
“Thank you,” I say, burying myself a little more into Jaxson’s side. “I hadn’t painted for years, but your son is the reason I started again.”
This makes Stan smile. “You’re very talented. And you are both lucky to have each other. I’m happy for you, Son.”
Sensing the term of endearment is making Jaxson uncomfortable, I quickly try to deflect for him.
“I didn’t know you would be here, or I wouldn’t have interrupted. I can come back later.”
“Stan was just leaving,” Jaxson says quickly. I have a feeling he is more than ready for this encounter to be over.
“Yes, I do have to get going. I need to go talk to a guy about getting some work.”
Here is where things could get dicey. I know Jaxson was worried about Stan asking for money and was steadfast that he wouldn’t give him any. But I don’t think he ever considered that Stan would be asking for work.
I look up for Jaxson’s reaction. I know that he’s looking to hire someone to help around the gym. With the school year starting soon, he’s losing a few of his college workers who clean the mats, launder the towels, and do other odds and ends.
But I don’t dare offer that up. I have no idea how this meeting went, or if he even wants to see Stan again after today.
“You’re actually going to get a real job?” Jaxson asks with a strained laugh. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d see the day.”
Stan nods. “Yeah. Now that I’m out, I need to find something. And well . . . not what I used to do. But only so many people are willing to hire a man with a record. I have a buddy who said he’s looking to hire someone for some janitorial work. It’s not glamorous, but it will get me some money and keep my parole officer happy.”
Stan turns to walk out of the office and I nudge Jaxson. I don’t want to overstep, but I think this could be really good. For both of them.
“Stan, wait,” Jaxson says. “I . . . well, I might have something here. I’m not making any promises, but I can see what our staffing looks like in the next few weeks.”
Stan smiles and it looks genuine. If this man is pulling one over on Jaxson, then he’s a damn good actor.
“I understand. That would be great. Thanks, Son.”
Jaxson lets go of me to walk Stan out. “I’ll let you know. Like I said, no promises, but if you don’t mind wiping mats and doing laundry, then I could possibly use some help.”
He turns and pulls Jaxson in for a hug that makes his son visibly uncomfortable. Reluctantly, Jaxson pats Stan on the back until he lets go.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. Annabelle, it was nice meeting you.”
I wave goodbye as Jaxson and I walk back to the office.
“Well, if you offered him a job, it couldn’t have gone too badly, right?”
“Neither of us needed a trip to the hospital, so that’s a plus.”
I reach up and press a kiss to his chin. “I’m proud of you for seeing him. And I’m proud of you for offering him work. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
He leans down and places his lips over mine. It’s not rushed, but it’s also not slow. He needs this kiss, but he’s not trying to rip off my clothes. No, this kiss is all about needing each other to be centered again.
Jaxson looks at me thoughtfully and says, “Honestly? I was ready for him to ask me for money or something like that, but the fact that he’s actually willing to work for it says a lot. He’s never worked an honest day in his life. And he apologized—for a lot, which is also a new thing. He actually admitted Abigail’s death was his fault. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
“Do you believe him?”
He sighs. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I actually do.”
“Really?” I’m a little shocked by that answer.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before he positions his hands around my waist. “Yeah, I do. I mean, he seemed different. Resigned almost. And that’s different for Stan. And considering he spent pretty much my entire life lying to me, I feel like this is the first time he’s been honest with me in, well, ever.”
I wrap my hands around Jaxson’s neck, and gently caress his hairline.
“If your gut is telling you that, then I think you should listen.”
He leans down and kisses me again.
“Want to know what I’m listening to right now?” he says as his lips travel to my ear, nibbling on the lobe.
“Hmm?”
“My dick. He’s saying that he hasn’t seen you in too long and that needs to change. Now.”
Well, how could we not listen to that?
We don’t even make it back to the loft. I’ve never been so thankful for a locked door and window blinds.
30
Jaxson
“Your shot.”
I take the cue stick from against the wall and line it up with the striped No. 10. It’s an easy enough shot, and honestly, I’m surprised Maverick left it open for me.
I pull back and nudge the ball just enough that it slowly rolls into the side pocket, leaving me a great next shot.
“Thanks, dude. I really appreciate that considering you’re solids.”
I shake my head. “What? Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”
“Because I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize that I would never leave you a shot like that. Then when you didn’t, I figured, ‘What the hell? Now I only need to make the 8-ball.’”
I grab my beer and take a long pull as Mav easily beats me. I’m usually a pretty decent pool player, but tonight I’m all over the fucking place.
And I don’t need a therapy session to know why.
“Dude, what the fuck is up with you tonight? Did you and Annabelle have a fight or something?”
“No, I didn’t fucking fight with her.”
And thank God. She’s the only reason I haven’t completely lost my mind since Stan visited me at the gym a few days ago. I have no idea why I even mentioned a possible job to him, but I did. And since then, it’s been keeping me up at night.
“Well then, what has you being even more surly than normal? You only get like this when . . . oh shit.”
Yeah, Mav knows. He knows that Stan has this effect on me.
“Yup. Dear ol’ dad paid me a visit this week.”
He goes to get us another round and I grab a table. He comes back with a beer and a shot of whiskey for each of us.
“What’s this for?”
He takes the shot glass and we clink before throwing them back.
“Because if we’re about to talk about Stan Kelly, then we need more than beer.”
He’s right. Mav might be a few years younger than Kalum and me, but that doesn’t mean he and I aren’t
close. In fact, there are some conversations I’d rather have with him than Kalum. This is one of them. Where Kalum can be quick to shoot—act now and think later—Maverick is the calm and rational thinker.
“Did Kalum tell you about the letter my dad sent me?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize you’d made contact with him.”
I fill him in on how I got in touch with Stan and how he just showed up at the gym.
“He didn’t tell you he was coming? That’s kind of fucked up.”
“I’m actually glad he didn’t. I don’t think I expected him to actually show up even though I’d invited him. If he would have, I know I would have figured out a way to cancel. This way, we just ripped off the Band-Aid. But that wasn’t even the most surprising thing.”
I take a sip of my beer as Mav’s eyes almost beg me to get to the bomb I’m about to drop.
“He admitted that Abigail’s death was his fault.”
Mav nearly chokes on his beer.
“He fucking said that?”
“Yup. After all these years, he finally fucking mans up. I couldn’t believe it when he said it. It threw me so hard that I might have offered him a job at The Pit.”
The more bombs I drop on Mav, the closer I get to giving him a heart attack. This time, his eyes all but bug out of his head.
“You fucking did what? I know I couldn’t have heard that correctly.”
I stay silent and let him process my words, which is why I’m glad he’s the one I’m having this conversation with. Kalum would have punched me by now.
Well, he would have tried to.
“So you offered him a job—”
“Well, technically, I said I might have work for him. Nothing is official yet.”
“And now you’re wondering whether or not you should follow through with it.”
He hit the nail on the head. “Yeah. I mean, words are great, and I wanted to see him in person so I could get a read for myself. But Mav . . . he was different.”
“Different how? Remember, this is the man who every time he got out of prison made promises to you, Abigail, and your mom that he never kept.”
Damaged: South Side Boys Book 1 Page 11
