Slow Heat Read online

  Christ, and now Wade could hear Pace’s voice in his head saying, Writing a check won’t solve everything. “Look, you said you were tired of the trailer park and needed a house, so I bought you one. You got tired of the house and decided you needed freedom, so you sold it and lived on a campground with five other homeless guys until you got kicked out of there for disorderly conduct. Then you said you needed to be with others like you, so I found you a nice senior center—”

  “They weren’t like me, they were old.”

  “The median age was five years younger than you.”

  “I got bored.”

  “Ah. And now we get to it. You got bored and thought you’d try me on for a change.”

  “You say that like you were my last choice.”

  Wade let out a laugh. “Dad, I’ve always been your last choice.”

  John was quiet a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with regret. “I’m sorry for that, you know. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’ve screwed up, but it was the alcohol, Wade. I’ve been lost in the alcohol.”

  “There are always choices. You made yours.”

  “Yes, and I’m making another one now.” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper, as if he were almost afraid to hear Wade’s reaction. “I choose you.”

  Wade leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Because you got sick, and scared.”

  “Better late than never, right? And don’t you ever get scared? Scared of ending up alone like me?”

  “Alone, maybe. Like you? No. I don’t drink like you.”

  “But you push people away like me. Listen to me, Wade. My time is limited, and I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want you to feel bad if something happens to me and we haven’t made peace.”

  Wade opened his eyes, his gut clenching. “Did you learn something new from the doctor?”

  “No.”

  The clenching eased slightly.

  “People make mistakes,” John said softly.

  “Yeah.” Wade ran his hand over his aching ribs. “Like miscalculating the distance between the plate and a fucking fence.”

  “You doing okay?”

  Wade just looked at him.

  “I know. I have no right to ask.”

  “Have you ever even seen a game, Dad?”

  John was quiet for so long that Wade turned away, frustrated and disgusted at the both of them.

  “What if I said I’ve seen every game,” John finally said. “Including yesterday’s?”

  Wade turned back. “I’d say you’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”

  “Okay, I’ve wantedto see your games, but you never invited me.”

  Jesus.

  “I’ve screwed up, okay? I am readily admitting that. But I want to fix it, I want to change.”

  “Then change.”

  “I’m working on it. Jesus, Wade, you don’t give an inch, do you? It would help if I knew exactly what you’re so mad at.”

  Wade just rolled his eyes.

  “Hell, son, I’ve been drunk for thirty years. Help a guy out, throw me a bone.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with kindergarten, which is the year I understood that no one else’s dad passed out in their front yard every night, too drunk to get inside.”

  John winced. “Okay, my bad on that one.”

  “When I turned seven and reminded you it was my birthday, you gave me a flask of whiskey and then stole it back from me in the middle of the night. The next morning you told me the Easter Bunny did it.”

  “Christ.” John closed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. And then there’s how you got fired from every single job you ever even halfway held, including the school’s janitor position, because you whipped out your dick to urinate in the principal’s trash can while his secretary was in the room. That was a fun one to live down, by the way, so thanks for that.”

  John grimaced and scrubbed a hand down his face. “That one I remember. She called me a loser.”

  “You were a loser!”

  There was a profound, sudden, thundering silence, and then John sank to the couch, looking sucker-punched. Wade felt like he’d just kicked a puppy, but even sick with it, he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize.

  “I kept you fed and clothed, you could give me that much,” John whispered.

  “I kept myself fed from working at McDonald’s. And I kept you fed, too. I brought home food that I stole from work.”

  John swore beneath his breath and sighed, leaning his head back on the couch, eyes closed. “It’s no excuse, but can’t you see I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself? It was wrong of me, and I can’t go back and change it, but I’m trying to change now.” John opened his eyes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how much anger and resentment you were holding on to. But I guess I should have, since I’m holding on to stuff, too.”

  “Like what? What did I ever do to you?”

  “Well, you never liked me much.” John tried a smile to signal he was only kidding, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Wade didn’t feel light. For once in his life, he couldn’t find the light and easy. Shoving his fingers into his hair to try to ease the pounding in his head, he turned in a slow circle away from his dad, coming to a dead stop at the sight of Sam standing in his opened doorway.

  He’d wanted to see her. He’d wanted to kiss her, touch her . . . definitely lose himself in her, but she’d been standing there listening, soaking in things he hadn’t wanted anyone to hear—

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get back, but I came to . . .” She lifted a bag. “Lunch from the hotel.”

  “Ah, what a darlin’,” John said kindly.

  “Not hungry,” Wade said.

  “But you’re always hungry.” She winced, probably because she was remembering what she just heard about his childhood, about him stealing food.

  Which was perfect. Just perfect. Now she felt sorry for him. “Thanks,” he said. “Maybe another time.” Gently as he could, he nudged her backwards over the threshold. Then shut the door in her face.

  “No wonder I’m not a grandfather yet,” John said, then shook his head. “You have some serious issues.”

  Wade rested his head on the door. His dad was right. He did have some serious fucking issues.

  “That rudeness must come from your mother’s side because I’d never have shut the door on that pretty face. Good to know I didn’t screw you up all by myself.”

  Wade felt the muscles in his jaw clench, and he hauled open the front door in time to see Sam power-walking to her car. “Sam.”

  She looked up, gaze shuttered as he made his way to her. He tried not to wince but her eyes narrowed in on his ribs, though she remained silent.

  “Where’s Tag?” he asked.

  “With his tutor. I have to get back to the hotel. I ran out on my meeting.”

  Since she didn’t move, he took advantage, taking her hand so she couldn’t escape. He looked back to make sure his dad was still in the house, and then pulled Sam a little farther away, out of earshot. They stood on the edge of the grassy bluff and looked at the ocean.

  “If you’re still looking for those five minutes,” she said. “I’ve decided not to share them with you.”

  “Can’t blame you.” He closed his eyes and absorbed the sun, trying to find peace. It didn’t come to him like it usually did. “I’m sorry I acted like an ass,” he said quietly. “But you should know, it probably won’t be the last time. My dad brings it out in me, and I think he’s staying. He seems to believe he can’t quit drinking without me. And though I’d love to quit him, I don’t seem to be able to just walk away this time.”

  “You want to believe he’s really quitting.”

  He looked into her slay-me eyes. “Yeah.”

  She let out a breath. “Seems neither of us can cut our dads out of our lives entirely, even though neither of them has been much of a parent.” She surprised him by taking