I read every one of the emails you sent me after I left town.
Every single one of them.
Even the one where you told me go to fuck myself in so many words. I believe it was, Fuck you right back, King Sullivan. Yeah, I’ve even read that one thousands of times. And I’m not exaggerating. They’re all I had left of you. I never blocked this email address because I hoped that maybe you might send me another email telling me to fuck off. I was that desperate for anything from you. I still am. Maybe one day I can show you my drafts folder with all the emails I wrote and never sent out. There are hundreds. After a while I stopped because it became too painful. But yours? They have a special folder of their own so I could pull them out and read them over and over when I needed to feel close to you.
Fuck, I need to feel close to you now.
But instead of reading them, I’m going to write you back like I didn’t back then. Like I should’ve back then.
You’re right. What you said in your father’s office hit me so hard that I can’t shake it.
I didn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth.
But after sitting here thinking about it for the last few days, I’ve come to several conclusions.
Me not trusting you didn’t have anything to do with you and everything to do with me. Your father and I had that in common. And goddamn if that doesn’t pain me to admit.
All that time I didn’t think I was worthy of you. The months we were together, I couldn’t get why you—so beautiful, so smart, so fucking kind—wanted me. And I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And your father was the shoe. It was almost a…relief. Don’t misunderstand me. It wasn’t a relief to leave you. It was a relief to have the waiting over with, to have my fear validated. I didn’t believe you’d leave everything to be with me, the son of the town drunk who didn’t have two shits to his name. And with your father running me out of town, I didn’t have to test it. I didn’t have to face your rejection. I was a coward, and I used your father as a convenient excuse to be one.
Another conclusion I came to? This might be news to only you, but I love you. So fucking much it hurts to be separated from you. My realization, though, is I don’t want to be without you. Not again. I want the dreams we talk about. A family. A house. Christmases and Thanksgiving together. Waking up to each other. I want you to be Gunner’s mother.
These past years have been a roller coaster of successes, failures, amazing achievements, incredible highs and humiliating lows. But through it all, they’ve been lonely because I’ve been missing the most vital part of me. You, Lennon.
I’ll fight for you, for us. But I also love you so much that if you want me to bow out, I’ll do that, too. I heard you in your father’s study. I won’t be the one who tries to control you with emotional manipulation and love. My love is yours, it always will be. It just is. And it’s yours to do what you want with.
Yours forever,
King
11
King
Iclimb the steps of the St. Luke’s Catholic Church basement where the NA meeting just concluded. Sometimes it surprises me how much I enjoy the meetings. If someone had told me that even five months ago while I was still in rehab, I would’ve asked what drug they were on. But attending grants me a place to release and talk with people who have been exactly where I am. Kade, Mac, Gideon—I love them and they’re extremely supportive. But they can’t truly understand like those who attend the meetings. And it doesn’t matter that I’m King Sullivan. There, I’m just an ex-addict, walking that road of recovery just like them. Between the NA and AA meetings several times a week, I’m staying on track and I’m proud of myself.
Damn, that feels good to say.
I’ve come a long, long way.
More than that, I’m alive.
Pushing the door open, I step out into the evening night air. Thanksgiving’s later this week, and it’ll be my first with Leif in years. My first with Gunner, period. I’ll have my biological and found family with me, including the Hunts. I invited them to spend the holiday with us since Leif usually spends it with his employer. Satisfaction and joy hums inside me at the thought of a huge dinner. There’s only one person who’s missing and who would make the day perfect and complete.
Lennon.
She didn’t reply to my email. And part of me didn’t expect her to. It’s too soon after she’s discovered both me and her father lied to her for a decade. But the ball’s in her court now. I meant it when I wrote that I would give her space or even walk away if that’s what she wanted from me. I’ll never steal her choice or voice again.
It still hurts like hell.
Sighing, I head toward my truck, and I don’t really notice the figure leaning against the side of it until I’m a few feet away. Frowning, I’m about to call out when the person steps off the vehicle and the streetlamp falls on her face.Herface.
Because it’s Lennon.
A joy so fierce rolls through me my knees almost buckle. It’s hot, bright and almost alarming in its intensity. I jolt to a halt. I have to because I can’t walk. Can’t move. Hell, that all-encompassing joy at the very sight of her? It might have incinerated the air from my lungs.
“Hey,” I rasp.
She doesn’t say anything, just takes another step toward me, grips the lapels of her short, leather coat and yanks it open.