Page 50 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)
The breath escaped my lungs. God, I hadn’t spoken this to anyone, not in twelve years. I had seldom allowed myself to think it, apart from reading the words etched on his tiny tombstone.
“Gregory,” I muttered as my chest cracked open, and a grief unlike any other flooded the room. “His name was Gregory. Laura wanted his middle name to be Maxwell—”
“That’s your name,” Luke interjected.
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I didn’t want him to have my name. I—”
“You don’t like your name?”
“I …” I gestured with a flippant hand. “I don’t hate Max . I hate Maxwell. I hate what I hear when I think about it. Or I used to anyway, before I met Grandpa Max, and, um …”
I cleared my throat, chasing away the sound of my father’s bitter, nasty, scorning voice from my mind.
“Anyway, we agreed to name him Gregory after a friend of mine in the Army, and I eventually settled on Benjamin for his middle name. So, Gregory Benjamin Tailor. That was his name.”
“What happened to him?”
I tipped my head. “Well, he, um … he died with Laura.”
Luke was quiet as the words suspended in the air before dropping like soft, deadly bombs at our feet.
“He never got to be born,” I explained. “I never got to hold him. But I did know him. I would feel him kicking in her belly, and I’d read to him and play music for him. I loved him more than … God, I loved him more than anything. I still love him. Of course.”
I was starting to choke up, and I swallowed against that surge of emotion before continuing, “I didn’t get to know him for very long, and my memory of that time is getting a little hazier as the years go on.
But that doesn’t make him any less my son.
And so, your dad … he is always your dad.
No matter what. That’s his blood in your veins, and from what I know of him, you’re lucky to have it. ”
Luke pulled in a deep breath, then sniffled. He rubbed his hand beneath his nose, and then he wiped at his eyes.
“But you’re my dad now,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
And, oh, the cocktail of emotions that barreled over me at those words coming from his mouth …
CJ called me Daddy, Danny used to until I recently graduated to Dad, but Luke …
I had remained Max, even though he never corrected or criticized his brothers.
And it was okay. I never minded. But hearing him say it now …
it was like sweet relief graced itself upon my soul while some other part of me— one I couldn’t quite put my finger on—hurt for this little boy who seemed to think that he had to replace his own father in order to keep me as well.
But neither of us was going anywhere.
Whether in the flesh or in spirit, he had two fathers who would love him through anything, and protect him from whatever we were able, and cherish him for whoever and whatever he became.
He would never know the feeling of a belt on his body or a book against his ears.
He would never hear poison fall from the lips of the man he looked up to.
He would never know hunger. He would never have to wonder if he was worthy of life, of pride.
He would never crave love because it would be given in abundance, from this realm and the next.
What a lucky kid.
And how lucky I was to get to be a part of it.
“We’re both your dads,” I answered. “Just like Gregory is my son, but so are you. So are your brothers.”
He choked down his tears and nodded brokenly. “Like how … Mom was married to my dad, and then he died, and she married you.”
“Right,” I said as Laura came to mind. “We’re both her husbands, and she loves us equally.”
He took the picture from my hands and sighed.
“Thanks, Max,” he mumbled quietly. “I mean …” Then he looked up at me, met my eyes, and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
My heart jolted and rejoiced as he threw his arms around my neck. He hugged me, and I hugged him back, closing my eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath.
God, how lucky I was.
How lucky I had been.
And when I opened my eyes to find Melanie standing in the dining room doorway, her hands pressed to her heart, I smiled and thought …
How lucky I am .
***
After Luke had been sent back to bed, the garbage had been cleaned up, and Melanie, Grace, and Lucy declared they’d been awake for far too long, I sat in the living room with Sid, Ricky, and Lido.
A Supernatural rerun was playing quietly on the TV, but after such a long day, our eyes were bleary, and the yawns were becoming increasingly frequent.
I’m not sure we were truly watching the show, but we stayed awake, none of wanting to be the first to declare it bedtime.
Knowing that, in just a few short hours, I’d be heading back to my life in Connecticut.
It was a good thing, even if it was a little bittersweet.
“Oh shit,” Ricky said abruptly, startling Lido from his slumber against my feet.
My friend groaned a little as he stood from the couch to head toward a bag beside the front door, and Sid’s eyes met mine with question.
“I almost forgot to give you this,” Ricky said, pulling a wrapped gift from the bag and heading back toward the couch. “Here.”
I accepted the gift, and I felt the familiar weight against my hands as my gut tightened with nerves.
Ricky took his seat on the couch and encouraged me to open the present.
So, with my heart thumping loudly against my ribs, I slowly tore the first strip of wrapping paper away to reveal a glimmer of gold against a background of solid black.
I stared at the book in my hand. The swirling font reading Dracula seemed to look back, and maybe I was crazy, but I imagined a smile forming in the filigree, as if to say, “Well, hello there, old friend.”
“Wow,” I murmured against a rise of emotion.
Ricky cleared his throat and nodded as he replied, “Yeah, it took a while to find that exact copy, but as soon as I saw some dude on eBay selling it, I snatched it up.”
I ripped the rest of the paper away, letting it flutter down to rest on Lido’s back, and turned it over in my hands. Every breath felt heavy in my lungs, every moment pushing me closer to giving in to the tears that threatened to fall.
Oh God, this book …
It had been the first gift anyone had ever given me.
It had been my first segue into true friendship—and love.
The words written on these pages had held my hand through years of torment, before being used against me and torn apart.
I had missed them, and although I’d considered buying another copy numerous times throughout the years, no other edition I’d seen in bookstores ever felt right. Not quite like this one.
“Do you like it?” Ricky asked, bumping his arm against mine.
Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah,” I managed to croak, my voice gravely with emotion and gratitude. “This is great. Really fucking great.”
But what I didn’t say was, that book …
That incredible book …
It was everything .