He didn’t believe in luck, not anymore. He made his own. But he offered a terse nod before getting out of the car and trying not to slam the door.
Rowan caught sight of him and raised his hand in a wave. Hudson didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he watched the man who’d ripped his life apart stroll towards him as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Only as his father neared did Hudson see the ravages of time—and probably alcohol—on Rowan’s face. Deep lines scoured his forehead and ran from his nose to his mouth, and age spots dotted his cheeks. But his eyes were surprisingly clear and filled with hope.
Hope Hudson would dash because he wasn’t here for a family reunion. He was here for one reason only, to help that kid his father had mentioned in his text.
‘Son,’ Rowan said, his smile tentative as he held out his hand.
Every muscle in Hudson’s body stiffened with resentment. This man had no right to call him ‘son’. But he forced himself to shake Rowan’s hand, releasing it quickly. He wanted to ask about the kid and bolt back to his car, but he couldn’t articulate the words forming in his head as his throat seized with unexpected emotion.
Because his dad was looking at him with wonder—and tears—in his eyes. ‘You’ve grown into a fine young man,’ Rowan said. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Hudson made a garbled sound, halfway between a groan and a scoff. He cleared his throat and, finally, the words came. ‘No thanks to you.’
Rowan flinched slightly. ‘I deserved that. I’m so sorry, for all of it. I’ve been sober for ten years now and haven’t gambled for fifteen.’ He shook his head, sorrow deepening the lines on his face. ‘I hit rock bottom when I lost you and your mum. And when I heard she died and they wouldn’t give me custody of you … it took me a long time to come back from that. I gave up any hope of parenting you after several attempts to end everything.’
Hudson didn’t want to pity this man. He didn’t want to feel anything. But he couldn’t help the sadness expanding in his chest at how much pain his father had caused them all.
‘I know you’re not interested in hearing any of this, but it has to be said.’ Rowan pressed a hand to his chest. ‘I’m a different man now and I want a relationship with you. You’ve made your feelings on the matter more than clear, considering you’ve ignored my attempts to reconnect, but I’m not giving up. I’m in this for the long haul. And while I can’t remotely change the horrors I put you through, I want another chance.’
An icy numbness flooded Hudson’s body. Did his father honestly expect that a few heartfelt admissions and a plea to reconnect would sway him? Speechless, he stared at the man who didn’t deserve the time of day let alone a second chance.
But he had to focus on the reason he’d agreed to this meeting in the first place. ‘Tell me about the kid at work.’
As Rowan outlined his suspicions about why he thought the teen was homeless, Hudson listened, but all the while he watched the man who’d once been his idol, the man who’d smuggled him lollies when his mum said no, who’d lain on his stomach on the floorboards to play trains with him, and lamented everything they’d lost.
‘What do you think? Can you help?’
Hudson blinked and refocussed on the present, banishing his memories of happier times. ‘Yeah, it sounds like the kid’s at risk. Give him my number.’
Rowan shook his head. ‘He won’t call. I doubt he’d even admit to me he’s homeless. He’ll probably call me an interfering old bastard and tell me to butt the hell out.’
Hudson had known kids like this. Kids who’d rather starve for a week than admit they needed help, so he had to approach it a different way, but damned if he wanted to, because it involved getting a glimpse into his father’s life he didn’t want.
‘Where do you work? Perhaps if I run into him accidentally in the carpark I can give him a card for this place, mention my experience, that kind of thing?’
Rowan flinched again, as if he’d been slapped. ‘I can’t believe you had to go into emergency housing because of me.’
‘I had to endure a lot of things because of you.’ Hudson bit back his bitterness because he knew if he started talking now he’d never shut up, not until he’d purged his resentment once and for all.
‘I’m sorry, son. I really am.’
Hudson couldn’t forgive his father—at least not now. Who knew, maybe seeing Rowan again after more than two decades could be a first step in the right direction. For now, he’d take it one day at a time.
‘Text me the address of where you work and what time that kid knocks off and I’ll be there Monday.’
‘Thanks, son.’
Rowan started blinking rapidly, like he was about to bawl, and that was definitely Hudson’s cue to leave.
As he turned and walked away, Rowan called out, ‘I’m never giving up on us, Hudson.’
His inner child, the one who craved his father’s affection, wanted to turn around, run back to his dad, and hug him tight. But the battle-scarred man he’d become lengthened his steps as he strode away as fast as humanly possible.
CHAPTER
42