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I’ve officially moved on.
And it doesn’t even matter.
“But dad,” Abe leans back on his haunches, “what’s ‘tob’?Micheal looked it up. He said it’s Hebrew or something.”
I nod.
Regan, getting bored of the conversation now that the safe is open, curls into my lap and starts flipping through albums. I press a kiss to her head and motion for Abe to come closer.
He crawls over and stares intently at me.
“Tobmeans good and beautiful. When you were born, you weren’t responding to ‘Abraham’, but the moment your mother muttered ‘tob’, you opened your eyes.”
Abe looks touched. “I never knew that.”
“You were too young to remember and when you grew up, you responded to Abe instead.”
“Tob,” Abe breathes, reverently touching a picture of his mother.
“Abe,” I wait until he glances up to say, “losing your mother was extremely hard on me. But the one thing that made it bearable was having Regan. And you.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. All my emotions are riding high tonight and it doesn’t help that the safe is cracked open, spilling out my past in high definition and making me reassess my life. “After your mom passed, I got really, really scared of losing anyone else that I loved.”
“It’s okay, daddy,” Regan says, patting my cheek.
I laugh softly and kiss her temple. Then I glance at Abe. “When I love something, I hold them close. Sometimes, I hold them so close that I suffocate them.”
You just want to control me.Island’s words from earlier tonight flash in my head.
“I may not know how to say all the right things and maybe I don’t understand you in all the ways you need me to, but I do love you, Abe. Both of you.”
“I love you, daddy.” Regan says, throwing her arms around my neck.
Abe meets my eyes. His gaze is open and a little less guarded. “I, uh,” he clears his throat and glances away, “I guess I love you too.”
“Come here, soldier.” I drag him close for a group hug.
And then I close my eyes and tell myself that this is enough.
My kids are my number one priority now and that’s what I’ll focus on. I can’t change that my heart is broken, but I can make sure that what remains of it keeps beating for them.
CHAPTER19
COURT CONFESSION
ISLAND
Monday morning,Amy tiptoes into my office and sets a cup of steaming tea in front of me.
I push myself up slowly. Warmth hits my fingers when I wrap them around the cup and bring it to my lips. It’s hot. The steam scratches the back of my throat.
“Why did you come in if you’re sick?” Amy asks gently.
“I didn’t want to be at home.”
“What’s wrong with home?”
“It’s just quiet.”
The silence is loud. Loud enough for me to be haunted by my thoughts. Pecked to death by the consequences of my actions.