Page 18 of Leave Me Broken
“Parker, we need to talk about this.”
He slams the car door shut and storms toward the house. Luca turns, and without a word, I see the question in his eyes. He wants to know what I’m going to do—or say—to fix the way Parker is thinking about me. He called me a pedophile. I understand why he would think that, Payson isn’t even a full year his senior, but I don’t know how to explain things between us in a way he would understand. As far as I know, Parker has never been in love. It’s difficult to explain that feeling to someone who has never experienced it.
“I don’t know,” I answer with a tight jaw.
“Tread lightly, fratello. He will come around.”
I know I’m lucky that most of my family—brother and parents—and my closest friend is supportive of my relationship, but it has blinded me from the real world. Most wouldn’t be—rightfully so. They see a seventeen-year-old girl and her thirty-three-year-old volleyball coach. The power imbalance would show I took advantage, and maybe I didn’t give her the option to deny me like I should have . . . but she wouldn’t have anyway. The fact I’m her coach, older and bigger, has nothing to do with us being together. Unfortunately, Parker doesn’t see that, and I don’t expect him to, but his opinion means the most and the fact he thinks his dad is a pedophile has been weighing heavy on me since he said it.
I didn’t expect things to be easy when he moved in, but he’s only been here a few hours and already we are having our first blowup. It’s normal for most families to fight; I definitely beat the shit out of my brother and vice versa when we were kids, but I don’t remember fighting with my parents and definitely not about my dad being a pedo. Fuck. I rip a hand through my hair. It’s getting long but I can’t seem to care enough to get it cut. With Payson being MIA from my life and the stress of bringing my son into it, my mind has been busy. Superficial grooming is far from priority right now.
If I’m being honest, I’m worried Parker is looking for any excuse to go back with his aunt. His dad dating a girl the same age as him is probably a good one—but he can’t. He can’t go back when I just got him here. Bella has done an amazing job raising him since his mom died but he’s my son. He should have been my responsibility when Marzia died, but I didn’t know about him then, and once I did, my career was peaking. It would have been no life for him. I thought about quitting, but Luca and his sister told me not to. I still don’t know why I listened. I missed out on sixteen years of my son’s life. A few weeks in the summer and every holiday I could manage weren’t enough. I always dreamed of being a dad, but being a part-time dad was never in the plans.
My dad is the best there is and I wanted to be just like him. Come home to a wife I was obsessed with and a bunch of kids running around. A messy house but full of love. That was always the goal and for the first time ever, it actually seems like a possibility. In the distant future, of course.
I knock on Parker’s door. There is no answer, but I can’t just stand here and wait for him to come to me. He is sixteen—I’m the adult. I’m his dad, I need to come to him. My breath is lodged as I push open the oak door.
He’s lying on his bed tossing a basketball in the air. He doesn’t look my way and I wonder if it’s because he didn’t hear, but when the floor creeks under my heavy step and his jaw ticks in the same way mine does when I’m pissed, I know he must have.
I have to step over his unpacked luggage to get across his room and look away before it can bother me. I won’t let him go, if that is what he’s thinking; not when I just got him back.
The walls are white like the rest of the house, but I told him we would go pick out paint swatches after the season. I have only weeks left if all goes to plan and I need to be focused on winning. Everything else matches the other spare room Luca resides in, basic wood furniture. I took the chance on buying Parker a blue duvet cover because I assumed blue is the safest color to go with for a teenage boy. I’m hopeful he will eventually settle in and this room will look like your average teenage-boy room in no time.
I fall into the desk chair and let out the breath I had been holding. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk about you fucking a child.”
I hate the sound of disgust in his voice. “Parker,” I scold but keep it light. I want him to know I’m serious but also not a hard ass. “Things are weird, I know. You didn’t expect Payson to be closer to your age than mine—”
“The same age, Papà. Not close to my age. She is my age.”
“—but trust me. It wasn’t planned.”
That ticks something inside him. The ball he was tossing drops to the floor. It bounces a few times before rolling to the corner of his room. He sits up and regards me with a look of disgust. “Let me guess, it was not planned, it just kind of happened, sì?”
Fuck. That’s so cliché but yes. That’s exactly how it is. I nod my head and prepare for his reaction; he simply rolls his eyes.
“I love her, Parker.” It’s obvious my words catch him off guard. I told him about Payson and things between us but I never let on how serious it actually was. “She loves me too.” Despite her never telling me. I don’t need to hear it to know. Eventually she will have to tell me with her words, but until then I strive on her eyes speaking what her mouth won’t allow to come out.
He scoffs. “She’s fucking seventeen, does she even know what love is?”
That’s an accurate and fair question. But Payson isn’t like most seventeen-year-olds. She’s had a very rough road, clung to things she shouldn’t, but I’m not a razor blade. I bring more good than harm. “Payson has had a rough road, worse than you can probably imagine, but I will not speak of that. I know it’s hard, but I’m hopeful you can eventually come around to us because if I have anything to say about it, Payson isn’t going anywhere.”
“You want her to be my stepmother?”
“Of course not.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and continue, “Technically, when we marry, she will legally be your stepmother—as I am your father, but I wouldn’t expect and highly recommend you do not call her mum. Ever.”
His lips twitch like I made a joke.
“I’m sorry, Parker. Really. I know it’s weird for you, but you’ll like her. She really is quite brilliant and I’m not just saying that. Luca thinks so too.”
I realize then that maybe he thought she was brilliant when they were talking. I’m obsessive enough to hate that she’s closer to his age but smart enough to know Payson enjoys me being older. I don’t think Parker could deal with Payson’s dark parts either. I wouldn’t want him to. I love Payson and accept her for who she is, but Parker is young. The things I deal with regarding Payson are nothing I want him worrying about. Hypocritical as it is, I do not care. I can love Payson and still want different for my son.
“How am I meant to go to school with her knowing she”—he swallows and grips at his long hair—“fucks my Papà?”
I have no fucking clue. “Just don’t think about it like that. If you have to talk to her, then talk about something besides me.” I would rather Payson only ever talk about me but maybe not with my son, at least for now.
“Well, duh.”