Page 231 of Severed Heart

“No,” Zach defends. “He’s just been coming to his family gatherings, and we got close. And I like him ... no, I love him, and he told me he wants so bad to be your dad again.”

I keep my hardening stare on my father. “Really smooth, Carter, using a kid to try and get to me?”

“That’s not what this is,” Dad clips, but without offense.

“Zach, get in the house,” I say. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“You’ve been out h-here for a whole d-day,” Zach relays shakily. “I don’t think you’re okay. You need somebody—” his voice cracks as his face contorts. But it’s when he starts to cry that my heart sinks.

“Fuck . . .” I run my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry I scared you, buddy, I am, but I’m just sad, okay? It’s you. You’re all I need, I promise. I just want to hang with you.”

Zach sniffs, staring back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection.

“I promise I’m coming,” I assure as best I can. “Please just get in the house. I’ll be right behind you. Are you hungry?”

Zach nods, looking between Dad and me, and anger builds that my father’s opinion matters. That adding to the sting of Zach openly admitting he loves him.

“There’s a bunch of casseroles in the fridge. Will you heat one up for us?”

He nods and turns to my father, who palms his shoulder briefly in encouragement. “Go on, I’ll see you Sunday,” Dad says, and Zach dips his chin. Not long after, shoulders slumped, Zach disappears into the house as Dad approaches me.

“Seriously?” I shake my head. “You know that Mom knows who he is, right? Don’t you have any fucking shame?”

“Grace left him, Tyler, not me. That’s something I would never do. Of course I didn’t know the situation. If I did, I would have done what I could. I’ve paid for my past mistakes dearly, so you don’t get to turn this around on me today. I’m very aware of what a bastard I am, but that’s not why I’m here,” he relays evenly. “I’m here because that boy fucking worships you, and I love him back, but I love the man in front of me more so.”

“Well, your loyalty is a bit unwarranted considering I’ve barely minced words with you in—”

“Ten years,” he finishes, the words biting, “sound familiar? I thought you weren’t going to repeat my mistakes.”

“Fuck you,” I spit venomously, and he flinches. “How about that? Will that do it?”

Cringing inside, I lower my eyes and turn my back, thankful for the anger over the pain as I manage to put one foot in front of the other.

“No,” he finally speaks. “It won’t do it. It’s unforgivable, but I guess I’m owed one or two of those from you. Please, don’t turn me away. Please, Tyler. I love you.”

“You don’t fucking know me.”

“Yes, I do,” he calls after me. “You think I didn’t reach out to everyone I fucking knew to see where you were at all times while you were in the service? Do you think I wasn’t sitting beside your mother during every call? Hoping that just once you’d ask to speak to me? I’ve been looking after you every fucking day since you walked out of that house and biting my tongue for close to a decade as you treated me as an acquaintance, but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Then stop,” I utter, willing my feet forward, over the porch and toward the door.

“I need to be your father again, more than the air I breathe because I do know you, Tyler. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve become my hero, Son.”

I snort derisively as I stalk toward the door, using my anger as fuel to override everything else. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry about the disrespect, andI amsorry—” I glance back to see his eyes red-rimmed—“and I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’ve got a scared kid inside—”

“My kid is scared!” he shouts. “My kid is hurting, and just suffered the worst blow of his life!” His voice cracks. “Goddamnit, Tyler, stop running from me and fucking face me, please,” he utters, the break in his voice pausing my steps.

“I appreciate that you’re here and showed up for me, but now isn’t the time,” I utter, palming the front door.

“Yes, it is,” he counters, “and I’m not the only one who thinks so, Son. I have a message from yourwife.”

I pause the turn of the knob and glance back at him. A few tense heartbeats pass before I manage my reply. “What did you just say?”

He doesn’t hesitate, taking a step toward the porch as he speaks. “I said I have a message from your wife, Tyler. I have a message from Delphine.”

He maintains his stance as I stalk toward him. His expression remaining adamant, even as his eyes water when I come to a stop a foot away. “I’m Delphine’s last wish, Son.”

I go utterly still while soaking him in thoroughly for the first time in a decade. “What do you mean y—”