Whiskey Kisses (27 page)

“It was the last straw, and so I kicked him out.” Mom shrugs as if she’s indifferent to it now. “It’s over, Holt. It was over for me that weekend.” She pulls me into a tight embrace. “Oh, honey. It kills me to think you’ve suffered with this all these years.”

Bryson blows out a breath. “So why are you coming clean, now?”

“Izzy had to deal with her past recently, and I thought it best I do the same.”

Annie gives a brief wave to get my attention.
I think you’re brave to have told us these things. Nobody wants you to walk around with that kind of weight on your shoulders. But I’m shocked you would take the blame for it. Didn’t it ever occur to you that it was Dad who made the final decision?

“I know. I know Dad had the final say.” I give Izzy’s hand a squeeze. “But, when push came to shove, I thought—” Crap. I didn’t know he had done it before. That might have changed the last few years of my life, but, in hindsight, I think I ended up right where I needed to be.

“You didn’t blow this family apart, Holt.” Dad comes over, and I stand as he slings his arm over my shoulder. “It was all my fault. I apologize for being anything less than the father you kids deserved. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Always.” I pull him in and let the tears fall onto his shoulder. A weight had been lifted, like a tractor rolling off my chest, I can finally breathe again. I pull back and take him and my mother in. “I know you don’t want me to blame myself, but a part of me always will at least a little. You said so yourself, Mom, that it was the last straw.”

“There was already someone else,” Dad assures. “Believe it or not, I think you saved your mother from a lot more grief. It was best we parted ways when we did.”

Mom clasps his shoulder until we’re standing in a huddle. “Your father and I have always maintained an amicable relationship. At first, it was for the sake of you kids, but, now, it’s because we’re friends, and we always will be.” She pulls my head up gently by the chin. “You’re my son, and I love you. You did nothing malicious. You didn’t mean to hurt anybody. Please, Holt, forgive yourself. As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to forgive.”

“I feel the same.” Dad touches his head to mine. “Let go of this. It’s my burden, not yours. You were never meant to carry this.”

Mom breaks out in a series of sneezes.

“I’d better get this little guy out onto the porch.” Izzy cradles the tiny creature in her arms.

“I’ll go with you,” Baya says, and Annie follows along.

Bryson steps up and slaps me over the shoulder. “Wish you would have said something. I knew there was something eating at you. I just assumed it was the fact you didn’t go to Briggs. You think you’ll go now?”

“I’m good with the bars.”

“Speaking of which.” Bryson turns to Dad. “We got approved for the loan. Holt and I can buy you out at the asking price.”

Dad lifts his brows, mildly amused. “How the hell’d you pull that off?”

“Got an outside investor to act as a silent partner.” He looks to me. “If it’s okay with you, Ryder says he’ll spot us the loan.”

“Ryder? That’s great.” I glance back to where Izzy was a second ago. Maybe I can get Laney and Ryder to spot the studio a loan as well? I know Izzy would die to have it.

We say goodnight, and Izzy and I hit the dark inky road with our new cat, Happy.

“You want to run by my place for while?”

“You mean our place?” Izzy’s eyes light up with a smile born of a thousand promises, and my dick perks to attention.

“That would be the one.” I steal a kiss as we drive off into the night.

A part of me is still convinced that things would have been a little different if I never started that tragic chain of events so long ago. But, in this case, I guess different doesn’t mean better.

The past no longer has a hold of Izzy and me.

We’re finally free, and we’re going home—together.

But there are still a couple of things I need to do before we start in on that happily ever after.

Izzy

Okay Dad—here we go, last one.

They say all good things must come to an end. I’m not sure I necessarily believe that, but, in this case, I think that might be true. I think it’s high time we start having real conversations with one another. I think it’s high time we share more than ink and paper together. I’d like to see us move our relationship into the verbal zone. Now that I’ve had time to consider it, asking me to write to you proved to be a brilliant move. In a strange way it’s as if you never left. I’ve always felt connected to you. I longed to sit down and write you each and every day. It was our special time. It was a season that I will cherish in and of itself because these letters that I thought were tiny tokens of my affection proved to be gifts to me, far more than you’ll ever know.

Thank you for that. Thank you for being in my life every single day whether in body or spirit.

I love you more than words can say. So glad I can tell you in person.

Thank you for coming back to us.

Signing off for the very last time,

~Little Bit, all grown up.

Sunday afternoon, Mom, Laney, and I order take-out and talk to the man we never thought we’d see again, my father.

“I hope you like the lemonade!” Laney pours us each a glass. “It’s my own recipe.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Hon, there are only three ingredients in lemonade, but we appreciate the effort.” She takes a sip and makes a face. “Holy crap. You’re lucky Ryder’s pockets are lined with gold. This tastes like leprechaun piss.”

“Nice, mother.” Laney averts her eyes before taking a seat across from me.

Dad picks up Laney’s hand, then mine. “You raised two beautiful girls here, Momma. I’m proud of each one of you.”

“She did it all with the help of the studio.” I look to Mom and nod. She has to know how much it means to me—to all of us.

Laney clears her throat and nods toward Dad. “So what’s next for the two of you?” She means relationship wise, but she was nice enough to give them the out if they needed it.

Mom takes in a breath expanding the girth of her chest until her cleavage quivers.

“We’re taking things slow,” she whispers. “A lot of years have rolled under the bridge. We’ll see if he can handle a woman like me.”

Dad lets out a deep-throated laugh and warms me to the bone because it’s the same laugh I remember from so long ago.

“I think I can take ya.” He winks at her. “The truth is”—he looks to Laney and me—“I made it clear to your mom before I went in that she was free. We filed for divorce as soon as they threw away the key. I didn’t think I’d ever get out, and I sure as heck didn’t want her to suffer because of my sins.”

“That man who died”—Laney says it just above a whisper—“did he have a family?”

“Mother, father”—dad blows out a breath—“no wife, two kids that were each with their own momma’s. He was a drifter. Your mom and I went out for a night on the town, and he decided she would look real good sitting on his lap, so he tried to make it happen. I stopped him with a sucker punch, and the rest was history.”

“His father hired an attorney that made sure your father fried.” Mom claps her hands together once. “And, thankfully, he was paroled.”

“What did you do before that?” Laney pulls her shoulders to her ears. “I mean, I don’t really know that much about you. We heard you took off—end of story.”

“I used to work the rail lines. I ran freight back and forth to the south. It kept me away a couple days a week, but it made coming home that much sweeter.”

“I remember the day you left.” Tears pool in my eyes. “You asked me to make sure Mom was never alone—to protect my little sister.” I nod. “And to write.”

His lips twitch somewhere between a smile and a good cry.

“Hang on—there’s something I’d like to give you.” I head to my room and speed back with the letters in hand. I hold them out as if I were offering a gift to the king, and in a way I am. My father was always my king, and our home was his castle. “I wrote you, Daddy.” I hand over the impossibly huge stack of letters, all of them bundled in colorful rubber bands according to year. “I wrote you every day. It felt good to do this. I felt like you were still here, somehow—that I was talking right to you. Do you remember what else you said to me that day?”

A river of tears slick down my father’s face as he quietly shakes his head.

A stone settles in my throat, but I push the words out anyway. “You said that you’d never be able to read them.”

He cracks a smile—a ray of light that pierces right into my soul and fills in the darkness. “Honey, I love it when I’m wrong.”

We share a soft laugh, as he pulls the wrapped bundles to his chest like a prize.

Mom’s phone rings, and she stares at the screen a moment. “I think I need to take this.” She picks up and starts in on a brief conversation that has her saying
okay
, and
that’s great
, over and over. Mom ends the call and picks up her lemonade. “It was the realtor. Great news! I have a buyer for the studio.” She cuts a look to Laney and me as her smile turns into a scowl. You could slice the air with my mother’s displeasure over the fact we’re not sharing in her elation. “Knock it off girls, this isn’t the time. Pick up your damn glasses,” she barks out the command. “To new beginnings.”

We reluctantly lift our lemonade. “To new beginnings.”

I take a quick sip.

Yup—leprechaun piss. That about sums up how I feel about losing the studio, too.

It feels like I’m losing my best friend, my invisible third parent. I guess when the universe gave me back my father, it needed to take one good thing away in order to make that happen. In a perfect world, I’d have both. But I’m glad my father is the last man standing.

I can’t help think how perfect my life would be with both my father and the studio in it.

I guess I’ll never know.

That night, much to my mother’s horror, Holt helps me move three duffle bags filled with my stuff into his truck. Mom and Dad wave us off as we drive to Holt’s apartment—my new home.

We park and head on up. Holt places my bags down just inside his door.

“You ready to do this, kitten?” He gives that cocky grin that I’m positive he invented just to make my insides melt.

“Only if you are.”

He scoops me into his arms, and I let out a little scream mixed with laughter.

“I want to do this right.” He carries me over the threshold and lands us softly onto the couch. “I think we should do a lot of things right.” He tucks a kiss up by my ear. “I’m in this for the long haul, Izzy.”

“Me, too, Holt.” I dig my fingers into the back of his cool, soft hair. “I think there are a few fury people we forgot to bring.”

He sucks in a quick breath. “Sounds like we need to make another trip.” He starts to get up, and I pull him down by the shirt.

“Tomorrow.” I give a quick wink. “We’ll let grandma babysit just one more time.”

A muted laugh drums from his chest. “That makes this the last night we get the whole place to ourselves.”

I give a silent nod. “We should probably make the best of it.”