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“Stop.” I cringe at the adoration in his voice while distorted memories fog my mind.
“We kept this going on and off for years, and we thought everyone was oblivious. It was my fault; I could never stop loving her. No matter what I did, she haunted me. I moved closer to their house, directly across the street. Your father knew; I don’t know how he knew, but it became clear that he did.” After a pause and a turn down another street, Vance adds, “He started drinking then.”
I sit up, slamming my palms against the dashboard. He doesn’t even flinch. “So you left me with an alcoholic father who was only an alcoholic because of you and my mum?” The anger in my voice fills the car, but I can barely breathe.
“I tried to convince her, Hardin. I don’t want you blaming her, but I tried to tell her to bring you to live with me—but she wouldn’t.” His hands run over his hair, and he tugs at the roots. “His drinking became heavier and more frequent every week, but she still wouldn’t admit that you were mine—not even to me—so I left. I had to leave.”
He stops talking, and when I look over at him, his eyes are blinking rapidly. I reach for the door handle, but he accelerates and presses the power locks several times in a row, the click-click-click seeming to echo around the car.
Vance’s voice is hollow when he starts talking again. “I moved to America, and I didn’t hear from your mum for years, not until Ken finally left her. She had no money and was working herself to the bone. I had already started bringing in money, not nearly as much as I have now, but enough to spare. I came back here and got a place for us, the three of us, and I took care of her in his absence, but she grew more and more distant from me. Ken sent divorce papers from wherever the hell he’d run off to, and still she didn’t want anything permanent from me.” Vance frowns. “After all I did, I still wasn’t enough.”
I remember his taking us in after my dad left, but I never thought too much into it. I had no idea that it was because he had a history with my mum, or that I could be his son. My already tattered view of my mum is completely shredded now. I’ve lost all respect for her.
“So when she moved back into that house, I still took care of both of you financially, but I went back to America. Your mum started returning my checks each month and wouldn’t answer my calls, so I started to assume that she’d found someone else.”
“She didn’t. She just spent every hour of every day working.” My teenage years were lonely at home; that’s why I found company with the wrong crowd.
“I think she was waiting for him to come back,” Vance says quickly, then pauses. “But he never did. He stayed a drunk year after year until something made him finally decide he had had enough. I didn’t talk to him for years until he contacted me when he moved to the States. He was sober, and I had just lost Rose.
“Rose was the first woman since your mum that I could look at and not see Trish’s face. She was the sweetest woman, and she made me happy. I knew I would never love anyone as bright as I did your mum, but I was content with Rose. We were happy, and I was building a life with her, but I’ve been damned . . . and she grew sick. She gave birth to Smith, and I lost her . . .”
I gape at the thought. “Smith.” I’ve been too busy trying to put the fucked-up pieces together to even think about the boy. What does this mean? Fuck.
“I thought of that little genius as my second chance to be a father. He made me whole again after his mother died. I was always reminded of you as a boy; he looks just like you did when you were young, only with lighter hair and eyes.”
I remember Tessa claiming the same thing after we met the kid, but I don’t see it. “This is . . . this is fucked-up” is all I can think to say. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I just look at my leg, like it’s some phantom sensation, and I can’t seem to move myself to answer the call.
“I know it is, and I’m sorry. When you moved to America, I thought I would be able to be close with you without being a father figure. I stayed in contact with your mum, hired you on at Vance, and tried to grow as close to you as you would let me. I repaired my relationship with Ken, even though there will always be hostility. I think he pitied me after I lost my wife, and by that point he had changed so much. I only wanted to be close to you—I would take anything I could get. I know you hate me now, but I would like to think I accomplished that for a little while at least.”
“You’ve been lying to me my entire life.”
“I know.”
“So have my mum and my . . . Ken.”
“Your mum is still in denial,” Vance says—another excuse for her. “She will barely admit it even now. And as for Ken, he always had his suspicions, but your mum has never confirmed it. I believe that he still focuses on the slight chance that you are his son.”
I roll my eyes at the absurdity of what he’s said. “You’re telling me that Ken Scott is stupid enough to believe that I’m his child after all the years of you two fucking around behind his back?”
“No.” Stopping the car at the side of the road, he puts it in park and looks over at me, serious and intense. “Ken is not stupid. He’s hopeful. He loved you—he still loves you—and you are the only reason he stopped drinking and went back to finish his degree. Even though he knew the possibility was there, he still did all of that for you. He regrets all the hell he put you through and all the shit that happened to your mum.”