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Hell, I didn’t know how to make a collect call anymore, especially internationally. I’d become dependent like everyone else on their cellphones. After a few trials and errors, the phone started to ring. It was softer than what I was used to, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the phone I was using in my room or if it was because of the distance I was calling.

I held my breath as I waited to see if anyone would pick up. What if he’d changed his number, and I was calling some stranger?

“Hello,” my dad’s voice answered. It sounded tired, and I wanted to slap myself for not thinking about the time difference.

My vision blurred as thick emotion lined my throat. I had to clear it a couple of times before I could speak.

“Dad?” My voice cracked.

“Remy?” he asked in disbelief. “Is that you, Son? Are you okay?”

I shook my head because I wasn’t okay—not even close to it after hearing the sound of his voice. It was music to my ears after not hearing it for so long.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry it’s been so long.” Tears ran down my face as I let it hang in shame.

“That’s okay, my boy. You’re calling me now, and that’s all that matters. Are you safe?”

“I’m safe,” I choked out. It amazed me he’d be worried about my safety when I hadn’t spoken to him in so long. Why hadn’t he given up on me like I’d given up on myself?

“Good. Where are you?” he asked quietly and then sniffed.

“I’m in Spain.”

“I always wanted to visit that way. What the hell are you doing there, though?”

His simple question opened the floodgates. Lying down on the bed, I cried for the first time in years. How had I been so wrong about my dad?

“I work as a bosun on a yacht people charter,” I tried to explain.

“Never heard of one.” He cleared his throat, and I knew the tough questions were coming next. As a child, I always hated it when my dad cleared his throat. I knew he’d squared his shoulders as he prepared to ask the question. “What happened, Son? Why’d you disappear?”

“Because I’m stupid. I thought...Damon died.”

“I know he did, Son. It was...is a terrible thing, but it still doesn’t explain why you disappeared. It was like I lost two sons at once.”

I’d never thought of it that way, but he might not feel the same once he found out what happened.

“I should have saved him, Dad. I should have—”

“And how would you have done that?”

“I...I could have been more diligent in searching my surroundings, kept my ears open to sounds, to—”

“Unless you pushed him in the way of the bullet or shot him yourself, I don’t see any way you could have known what was going to happen, let alone saved him and the other men.” His voice was no-nonsense as he gave me his truth.

“You weren’t there. You can’t know,” I croaked. The guilt was almost as all-consuming as the day was front and center.

“I know you loved Damon like he was your brother, and you’d never let anything happen to him if you had the choice. Remy, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself. Guilt will eat away at you until there’s nothing left but a hole so deep, you’ll never be able to fill it.”

He was right. I’d have done anything for Damon. Giving up my life for Damon to have his wasn’t too big of a price to pay.

“He died in my arms, and all I could say was that it would be okay. I knew it wouldn’t. Help wasn’t coming in time. There was so much blood. No matter how hard I pressed, it continued to ooze around my fingers. How could I have let that happen?”

“You didn’t let it happen, and it was most definitely not your fault, Remy. Have you talked to the other guys in your unit?”

I shook my head, unable to answer even though I knew he couldn’t see.

He let out a deep breath, and I closed my eyes. I would have given anything to be with my dad in that moment.