Their first words, first steps, the first signs of their personalities. I missed caring for Lara during her pregnancy and being there for the birth of my children.
After years of telling myself I would never be like my dad, I’ve managed to somehow accomplish something much,muchworse.
“Do— do they know?” I manage to ask, still gripping Lara’s phone in my hands like it might fly away, like if I hold on tightenough, I might be able to recover all those years with the kids I’ve only just now learned about.
“No,” she croaks. “I— they haven’t really asked yet.”
Emotions surge through me like crashing waves, dragging me under and pushing me down, turning me over until I have no idea which way is up or how to emerge from the drowning inside me. My own kids, and they don’t know me.
Our kids, and Lara has done this entire thing on her own.
I’m angry. I’m disappointed. I’m astonished.
But more than anything, I’m filled with a crushing sense of loss. Of grief for something I didn’t even have the choice to lose.
“Jake?” Lara asks when I start to scroll through the pictures on her phone, finding they’re all of her kids — smiling up at the camera, laughing, blowing bubbles, sitting in the bathtub, covered in chocolate.
The grief winds itself up until it’s a tight tornado spinning inside of me, and then, all at once, it morphs into that same bitter fury I felt right before I punched Labowski in the face.
“I thought you were too afraid to leave,” I say, and she says nothing in response, watching me like I’m a pressure cooker she’s waiting to go off.
Which pisses me off more. When have Ievergiven Lara the sense that I’m an angry person? I’ve done a fantastic job keeping it all bottled up inside.
“You should have told me,” I say next, because everything else I want to say is too harsh.
“I didn’t want you to give up on your dreams, Jake,” she whispers. “And you’d already told me that you didn’t want kids?—”
“No.” I shake my head, look up, meet her gaze and hold it. “You should have told me the moment you saw me in that emergency room.”
Though rage is still pooling in my stomach, I keep my tone even, calm, my body still. Around an asshole like Labowski? I’ll throw punches. But I’m never going to give Lara a reason to be afraid of me.
Even when I’m furious with her.
I get to my feet, needing to do something with all the energy building inside me. Pacing, I speak to the ground, “You should havetoldme, Lara. I’ve been driving around town looking like an idiot. Even if you were trying to keep it a secret, people must know. This is a small town, and I know you love Zachery, but there’s no way he’d keep this secret?—”
“Hedid, I swear?—”
Then I see a flash of Shelby’s face, that expression. Something like pity and judgement when she asked if I was coming to see Lara. I choke out a laugh, and scrub my hand over my face, and when I turn to look at Lara, I realize she’s crying.
Something tugs inside me, willing me to go to her, to take care of her, to stop whatever is making her cry.
ButI’mthe thing making her cry. And I can’t stop what’s happening to me right now. I need time to think about this, to figure out what’s going on in my head. To work through what this information is doing to me.
Who knows about this?
Did mydadknow?
That thought makes me sick with fury, and I turn away from Lara, taking a moment to breathe.
“I think you should go,” I say, forcing myself to stay facing the wall. If I turn around, I might go to her, take her in my arms, and that will only push the anger down further.
I need a second to work through it, to figure it out, before it boils over.
“Okay,” she breathes, standing, and I can hear the broken sob in her voice. I stay completely still until she walks back through the sliding doors, until I hear her car start, until there’s the crunch of gravel as she pulls out of the driveway.
Then I turn, grab an empty glass bottle, and hurl it against the wall.
CHAPTER 21
