Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (18 page)

F
ollowing the guard through the hallways of Limestone County Jail, I stare at the gray walls illuminated by the artificial lights. Purgatory is the word I’d use to describe this place. A place to repent from your sins before you head to whatever is next. My purgatory is much more different from this one, and I have yet to find a way to compensate and apologize for each one of my offenses.

“Take a seat, the inmate will be with you soon,” the officer says, opening the door to a small room occupied by a metal table and two chairs.

I stare at the walls, the furniture, and wonder why they changed the regular visitors place with the phone booths and zero privacy. I scratch the nape of my neck, wondering if I made the right choice. There are so many thoughts inside my head, they sound like a gushing river, and I’m unable to concentrate on just one. The questions that prevail are the ones about my decision. Is he playing me?

“ . . . give me a chance to say in person . . .”
he wrote.

Shredding the damn letter had been my first impulse. But instead, I use the old saying ‘treat others the way you want to be treated.’ For years, I’ve lived in my own prison. It doesn’t have walls, but it’s as suffocating as any other place. Unlike my father, I’ll never get a chance to say anything in person to my son. There’s no way to send a letter, but every night I ask him to forgive me for what I did to him. And for the way I treated the best person in the world—his mother. Before I fall asleep for a few hours and, while the guilt pounds my chest, I think about the numerous ways to change my past and have my son and my girl right next to me. If I had been who she thought I was, if I hadn’t abandoned her, cheated or . . .

I trace the tattoo inside my wrist:
JGK 02/03.
My little boy, James, was supposed to be born on February third. James would’ve had his mother’s green eyes and he’d be as smart as her. He’d be a gifted musician with many brothers and sisters because AJ always wanted to have a big family. From everything that I’ve done, my biggest regrets are killing my son, almost killing my girlfriend, and killing our dreams.

“Porter, you made it.” Those four trembling words snatch me out of my personal hell and I’m back inside the small room. Craning my neck toward the door, I find him with thin winter-white hair, his thin timeworn face making his brown eyes look bulgy. He’s not the sixty-three-year-old man I expected to find. The man in front of me looks more like a ninety-year-old guy taking a step closer to God. Meeting his fate.

“Father,” I say, moving the chair closer to him so he can sit down.

“We’ll be outside,” the officer that walked him to the room announces, closing the door behind him.

“Thank you for coming.” His sad, way-worn eyes stare at me. “How are you doing, Porter? I haven’t heard any new music from you.”

“I stopped, at least for a while.” I lightly tap the metal table, trying to find a rhythm, searching for some internal music to take over the deafening void settling inside my chest. This probably wasn’t a good idea. That hatred I harbored for him is gone; there’s nothing for him. Not a feeling. Is this how James feels about me? Nothing? My lungs collapse and I want to run away from this enclosed space, search for an outlet to calm myself.

“Everything okay, son?” I nod. “You look troubled. I hope it isn’t the visit; it was never my intention to open old wounds. But I wanted to . . .” he shrugs. “Leave in peace.”

“Leave?”

“Cancer,” he says, dropping his gaze toward the table. My hands curl and uncurl unable to stay in one position with the news. His words are like a bullet hitting me straight in my gut. “Stage four colon cancer; make sure you get tested often. They found it late, and it metastasized, it’s just a matter of time before I . . . go.”

Until today, I haven’t given him a lot of thought. Not with all the fucked up shit I did for the past ten years. I barely remember my old life before the accident. At the tender age of four, I lost everything, and now, I have no memories from those years. The images of my mother and siblings are gone forever, I can’t remember what she looked like, but I do remember her love. That part is forever ingrained in my heart.

On instinct, I grab his clenched hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, don’t feel sorry for me, boy. I’m ready to leave. There’s another life, a better life after this one.” He touches his chest. “In my heart, I know God forgives me. Leaving is easy, but leaving without your forgiveness is hard. And I want to make sure you found your way.” His lips fight a smile, but they don’t stretch far enough.

“I found a way, don’t worry about me,” I tell him, because there’s no place in the world of happiness for people like us. Family is out of reach and second chances are for those who deserve them. Not me. Mac’s face appears for a few seconds, but the image vanishes the same way she did.

“Life is good,” I assure him.

“Your eyes look lonely.” He sets his bony fingers on top of mine. “If you’re not happy, it’s never too late. Make it a good life, Porter. Live as if every day is the last. Be grateful every morning for the chance to reinvent yourself and every night for what you received—never go to bed with any regrets.”

Old memories flash as he speaks. AJ’s mesmerizing eyes appear behind my eyelids. The girl gave meaning to my life. My love songs, the meaning of every note and word I’d written. Then her parents and her brothers followed. Regrets . . . I regret losing the only family that I’ve known. When I open my eyes, the only one I see is my father. Because of him, I lost so much. Yes, people like us, we don’t deserve to escape the hell.

“Some don’t deserve forgiveness,” I say. He flinches. “Though I wish that you find peace.”

“Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I say, because he’s dying and he doesn’t deserve any cruel words. “We’re good.”

“No. I’m sorry that you live in the same darkness I lived in once.” He touches my hand again. “Change, son. As long as there’s life, there’s hope.” My mouth doesn’t have a response to what he said. “Try to visit before . . .” I nod, as his strained voice disappears. “Thank you.”

He exits the same way he came. Opening old wounds, bad memories splatter all over the floor. I need a fucking smoke. Pushing myself out of the chair, I leave. I’m not sure when I’ll be strong enough to come back again. I hope my visit brought him some peace.

M
y trip to Alabama left me with a hole in my pocket and my heart. The thirty-six-hour drive cost five hundred dollars for the two stops and meals. Not counting the money, I didn’t earn a dime while on the road. The visit with Steve didn’t feel like a successful one. Did I fuck up? Should I have said more than I did?

Poor man, he’s dying and the last thing he wanted was peace. I could’ve given him more than I did, yet I refused. Like a total asshole. Maybe it’s true; people can’t change. As I turn onto North East Holman, I click the remote to open the garage, but slam on the breaks as I spot Harper on her bike. My heart races as I witness the action in front of me and I can’t do anything but watch. Everything happens in slow motion; she loses control of the bike and is toppling over Finn who is close by. Fuck. I finally react, throwing the truck into park running toward them.

As I reach them, I hear the screams, the cries laced with pain. Pulling Harper up, I check that she’s not hurt, but Finn isn’t as lucky. His face is pressed against the concrete, his body under the bike. I hold Harp with one arm while trying to move the metal away from him so I can take him into my arms.

“Finn,” I hear Mackenzie’s voice before I see her arms reaching for him, pressing him against her.

While she tends to Finn, I check Harper again. “Are you okay?” I ask as she nods. Her lip is quivering and her eyes are filling with tears. Her small arms reach for my neck and I hold her tight. “Everything is okay, you’re safe now.” She rests her head on my shoulder and continues crying.

My attention then goes to Mackenzie and Finn; she’s looking at his arm, which looks crooked. Her eyes close for a moment while tears fall down her cheeks.

“Is Molly in the house?” I ask her, as she shakes her head. “Give me a few minutes; I have to grab a few things from my room before we leave.”

I don’t wait for a response, with Harper in my arms, I go to Molly’s place, grab some snacks, my iPad, and two pairs of headphones. Then grab the first aid kit from the bathroom, so Mac can clean his face scrapes while I drive. Finally taking Mackenzie’s emergency keys from the key holder, I head to the minivan where I settle Harper into her booster seat. Once she’s secure, I go back to where Mackenzie is holding Finn.