Letting Go (16 page)

Grant’s head throbbed with images from preacher’s message. It puts a different spin on his need to change. He could live without a lot of things, but he needed his son. Kelly said their lives had changed, he’d forgotten. Time to prioritize his life. He thought of his son, Kelly, his dad, the campaign, and realized he couldn’t make everyone happy.

Chapter 14

Kelly looked around the outside lobby area for Grant. Although he stayed to the end of the group discussion, he didn’t stay for refreshments. She’d seen the stricken look on his face while Preacher talked and wanted to comfort him. It was hard not to respond on an emotional level when Preacher spoke of the dealings he’d had with his son, Pat. The road they’d traveled had been long and difficult.

“Mom,” Robin called as he, Charlie, and Pat walked out of the gym. Kelly looked at the unusual couple and smiled. Charlie stood almost six feet with a muscular build. Whereas Pat, the male, was five foot three, give or take an inch and she’d swear he wore a junior size three. He was a tiny thing.

She waved at them and they returned her wave.

“Mom, I saw Mr. Whittaker, did he say anything?”

Since she’d been looking for Grant a moment ago, she eyed Robin with suspicion as they left the building. “No. Was he supposed to?”

Robin exhaled and waited for the beep signaling she had unlocked the car. She slid in and so did he. “I was hoping he’d say something about BJ being able to come over again.”

Relieved, he hadn’t seen her looking around the lobby, she shook her head and pulled out. “What happened to BJ’s mom?”

“Huh?”

She didn’t want to seem interested in the answer and didn’t repeat the question.

“She left them a long time ago. BJ’s dad’s all he has. He hasn’t seen or talked to his mom in over eight years. Long time.”

She nodded as they waited at the stop sign, although now she wondered why? Grant never mentioned his ex other than to say they parted ways a long time ago. How’d his ex take hearing about Blair? Arnold would blow a gasket and then blame her for moving so far away. As if remaining in town to watch him flit from door to door would have changed matters. She’d made it clear to Robin she had no intention of discussing anything with his dad. Whatever he wanted Arnold to know, he needed to share it with him. She resigned as mediator in their relationship, they were on their own.

“According to BJ, his dad has a lot of women and likes to fool around. Once, his dad had a drinking problem and got into some trouble, almost died. BJ thinks it has something to do with a woman, but isn’t sure.”

That grabbed her attention. “What?” Grant mentioned doing things he regretted, could that be it?

“Couple years ago, he was drunk and landed someplace he shouldn’t have been, took a bullet. BJ cried the whole time he was in critical care. I remember he was really scared. Took his dad a long time to wake up. When he did and saw BJ, he promised to stop drinking.” He paused and snapped his fingers. “I bet that’s what it is. His dad gave up something for him, and he…”

She glanced at his furrowed brows. “Is that possible? Can you stop…liking boys for me? Because it would make me happy?” Everything she had read said this wasn’t possible.

“I tried. But it doesn’t work, not for long. It’s hard to fake it and be okay inside,” he said, his tone apologetic.

“That’s what I thought.”

“He plans to take the sports scholarship and wants me to play football in college.”

She straightened and glanced at him. Usually when he talked about BJ she half-listened, now, she wondered if she’d missed something important. “What? I thought you weren’t going to play ball in college.” His high school coach had contacted her about scouts who'd asked questions about Robin, but he hadn’t been interested. Had that changed?

“No, playing ball in college eats up all your time, I don’t want to do that. I’m interested in international finance and plan to intern overseas, remember?”

She did remember and with his junior SAT scores as high as they were, he’d qualify for academic scholarships and she’d pick up the balance. That was another reason he couldn’t afford to play with his grades. “So what’s all this about?”

“He's changed his mind about international business, at least that’s what it looks like. He dropped his French class because some of the ball players teased him about it. Now he wants me to play ball and do the international internships later. That’s not what I want.” He shook his head.

Later wasn’t a bad idea. The idea of him leaving the country didn’t fill her with warm fuzzies either. But that was another discussion for another day. Something had been nagging her. “You said you were bisexual, but you’ve never dated girls –”

“Yes I did.”

She swung to face him and then turned back to the road. “When, I don’t remember that.”

“It was a group of us. I paid for Tangela to go into the movies. We sat together and made out. It was okay, but we never went out again, and she moved a few months later.” Something in his voice said he was happy she had moved away.

“Did you stay in touch? Talk afterward?” She wanted him to at least make an effort at dating females.

“No. I mean, I gave her a shout out on Facebook, but nothing else. We both moved on.”

“What did you think…you know…about kissing a girl?”

“It was okay. But I didn’t feel anything, not in here.” He tapped his chest. “It’s not the same.”

Her heart dropped. “Not like when you’re with BJ, you mean?”

“No. Not the same. It’s… different, I really don’t know how to explain it. We met online playing games. He came into the game and attacked me.” He chuckled.

Kelly released a stream of air over her short-lived hopes. Since she’d heard how he and BJ met a few times, she allowed her thoughts to drift and they returned to Grant. Despite his snippy remarks, he'd looked nice wearing a button down short sleeved shirt, trousers, loafers, and eyeglasses. She'd noticed the pensive look he wore and bet he thought of his political future. Would he continue to run or drop out of the race? If his district were any other, or if he hadn’t been tanking in the polls lately, she’d say he could still win regardless of his son’s choices. She gave him major points for even walking into the building where anyone could snap photos and make a stink. Like her and all the other parents in their group, he would bend, make changes or risk losing his son.

Chapter 15

Grant strode into the house, threw his keys on the kitchen island, and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator. Uncertainty dogged him. He’d attended three PFLAG meetings so far. Tonight had been the Super bowl compared to the others. It wasn’t just Preacher’s story, although that knocked him hard and almost brought tears to his eyes. Kids running away, boys wearing dresses, girls wanting to be men, he refused to accept any of those things as possibilities with his son.

Incapable of escaping Preacher’s words, he closed his eyes. They rotated like a merry-go-round in his skull scattering every defense he’d built up over time. Breathing hard, he placed his hand on the back of the chair for support.

Pain, sharp and piercing, ran across his chest, robbing his ability to shut out the images he refused to consider. Preacher’s voice boomed in his mind, the words swirled around him, tightening like a noose around his neck. “The first time he tried to kill hisself…” An arctic chill seeped into Grant’s bones, freezing him to the spot. In spite of the cold, sweat beaded on his forehead as possible images of the young teen flashed in his mind. “My son pretended everything was okay, now I don’t know where he is….” another person said, joining the choir of unsolicited voices telling their tales.

“He pretended… she pretended… they pretended…” The testimonials flew with cyclonic force in his mind, refusing to settle, refusing to relent, and refusing to change. He sucked in a gulp of air, coughed and bowed his head.

Grant unclenched his fist, finger by finger, until his palm lay open and flat against his side. Rubbing his hand up and down his pants, he looked up at the ceiling and accepted the possibility his son also pretended.

More than anything he wanted to believe BJ’s claim that he wasn’t really interested in guys, just Robin. And even that, he could drop if he wanted. Until the meeting tonight, Grant hadn’t known BJ had backed off from Robin.

No wonder Kelly looked at him with pity when he started his rant. Seeing that look in her eyes fed his anger. Pity wasn’t what he wanted from her. He swiped his palm over his face. Now wasn’t the time to think of their floundering relationship, he needed to focus on his son.

Exhaling, he strode through the living room looking for BJ and praying he could do what needed to be done. Hearing sounds, he turned toward the family room and stopped short at the entry. BJ sat with his back to the door wearing headphones.

“Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui? Je vais bien merci.”

Grant frowned. BJ had dropped French, called it a sissy language. Why practice sentences then?

“Où puis-je trouver quelque chose à manger?”

Grant’s rusty French recognized some of the words in the sentences. He walked into the room. BJ’s eyes widened with a flash of fear when their gazes met. Grant swallowed his objections, dismissed his anger, and put on his parental hat. It was time for them to talk, the pretending had to stop and it would start with him
.

An hour later, Grant sat back in his chair, his mind a jangled mess trying to process the conversation he’d just had with Blair. His son broke down and admitted everything. He’d liked boys from elementary school; his mom had hated him for it and called him a sissy all the time before she left. He’d been scared to lose his dad and did everything to kill the person inside that his mom hated so much, but couldn’t. Robin wasn’t his first boyfriend, there had been others.

The confession that sent him reeling, the one that would land him in jail tonight, was his son’s crush on Kip. His son had given Kip a blow job when he was thirteen. It had happened once and Kip threatened to tell everyone Blair was a fag if he ever told anyone. His son thought Grant would hate him, like his mom had, and kept quiet.

“Dad?”

Grant held up his finger, he needed a second. He didn’t own a gun, not that he needed one for the ass-whipping he planned to lay on Kip as soon as he found the bastard. He bit back a groan as his eyes watered beneath heavy guilt.

Everything was his fault. He should’ve been watching over his kid instead of laid out drunk. During that time Kip had been a frequent visitor at their home, often sleeping off hangovers in one of the guest bedrooms. His son should’ve been safe.

“I’m sorry,” Blair said into the silence.

Grant couldn’t speak. Shame and embarrassment shut him down. No wonder Blair never wanted to go places with him and Kip. His son avoided the other man, and Grant never asked why.
What the fuck
?

How could Kip do that to
his
kid? Grant jumped up, looked around for his keys and headed toward his car.

“Dad, are you leaving?” He heard the hurt in Blair’s voice, but blistering rage kept him from responding. The image of his son servicing that son-of-a-bitch blocked everything in his mind. It drove him to take vengeance on behalf of his child or die trying. He spun out of the driveway and headed to the small gathering Kip had invited him to earlier that day, which he'd declined and went to the group meeting instead. Ten minutes later he hadn’t calmed down, instead, with each minute his anger escalated. By the time he pulled behind one of the many cars parked in front of the house, his anger boiled.

He knocked and once the door opened, he pushed inside without returning the person’s greeting. He searched the downstairs, upstairs, and then the back yard. Kip sat on a lounger with a naked woman giving him a blow job.

Grant saw red.

He didn’t realize he moved or feel his fist connect with Kip’s jaw. He didn’t recall them rolling on the ground or the pounding he’d given the man before someone broke them apart. Through a loud ringing in his ears, he heard Kip ask what was the matter with him.

Breathing hard, he looked at the bloodied face of his former teammate and pointed. “Stay the fuck away from my son you damn pervert or I will kill you.”

Kip’s face drained of color. Whoever held him released his arms and stepped back. Kip collapsed on the ground holding his side.

“It’s not…” Kip tried to speak and spit out blood.

“He was thirteen, you bastard,” Grant yelled, trying to break free of the hands holding him while Kip scooted back on the stone patio.