Boys and Girls, Part IV: Why I Love to Hate You
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Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
11,565
Reviews:
100
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
11,565
Reviews:
100
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 20 - Help From a Stranger
Chapter 20 – Help from a Stranger
“With the second pick of the draft, the San Francisco 49ers choose Tristan Carter, wide receiver, of NMU.”
Tristan’s friends, family, and fans erupted into loud cheers. He feigned surprise, even though he knew going into the draft that he’d be a top ten pick. He slowly made his way up to the podium, where Roger Goodell, the commissioner of the National Football League, greeted him.
“Good to meet you, Carter. Nervous, son?”
“No, Sir,” Tristan answered with the utmost confidence. He put the 49ers cap on his head and posed for the photo, holding his team’s jersey. As he looked out into the audience, he saw that his mother was close to tears, while his father was beaming. Darren looked proud, while Gareth was grinning; son-of-a-bitch knew that he’d be here in a few years anyway. Tristan was happy to see everyone that he loved out in the crowd.
Well…almost everyone.
Tristan had heeded Jacy’s advice and not contacted her via phone or in-person once since their fight nearly three weeks ago. He’d secretly hoped that she’d come around and admit that she had made a mistake in wanting to end their relationship so soon.
But she hadn’t. Could Tristan really say he was so surprised? He really did miss her though. As Tristan smiled out into the crowd, he was silently counting the seconds until Jacy came back into his life.
****
Go Tristan, Jacy thought to herself. Even though no one else was saying anything, she was cheering him on. Second pick? That was pretty fucking impressive.
“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” Ryan said, getting up from the couch.
“I’m gonna go follow him and make sure he doesn’t punch my walls,” Lani added when Ryan was about halfway to the kitchen.
“And to think…that could’ve been you,” Stephanie added with a sigh.
Joe kissed her on the cheek. “I wouldn’t have been a first round, second pick, sweetheart.”
“I’m just joking,” Stephanie added.
Jacy tried to ignore their repartee because it reminded her too much of what she had had with Tristan…when they hadn’t been fighting with each other. Tristan had inexplicably severed all direct communication with her after their fight, and Jacy didn’t know whether to thank or hate Jason for having so effectively knocked some sense into the boy.
The only form of communication Jacy had received was a ticket to attend the draft in New York about two weeks ago. A plane ticket had been included and everything, but Jacy knew she couldn’t go. She couldn’t be tempted to run back into his arms and rekindle what couldn’t happen – a relationship with Tristan Carter, who would now most certainly be on every living, breathing American’s radar.
Still, she missed him terribly.
“With the twelfth pick of the draft, the Miami Dolphins choose Jason Kent, quarterback, of NMU.”
Stephanie screamed, and Jacy snapped out of her reverie. “Oh my God! Guys, Jason was taken by the Dolphins!”
Ryan and Lani sprinted back into the living room. Joe was on the edge of his seat. The camera momentarily stopped on Delaney, sitting with Jason’s mother and father.
“That’s our girl!” Stephanie screamed.
Jacy rolled her eyes at Stephanie’s excitability. Still, she was so happy for Jason and Delaney. They were going to be able to live their lives happily ever after.
Unlike her.
****
“Would you like some more potatoes, honey?”
Tristan’s lifted his gaze up to his mother and smiled. “I’m good, Mom.”
She put the bowl of potatoes down and wrapped her arms around Tristan once more. “I am so proud to have you for a son.”
“Cyndi, stop coddling the boy!” Boyd roared good-naturedly. “He’s a professional football player now, for heaven’s sakes.”
“He’s leaving for school again, Boyd. I want to get as many hugs in before he leaves. Plus my baby’s tired. Two flights in two days?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Tristan took a gulp of water before rising from the table. “But I am pretty tired, so I’m gonna go to bed right about now.” Tristan kissed his mother on the cheek and acknowledged his father.
“Good night, Son.”
The smile that Tristan had plastered on his handsome face for his parents disappeared as soon as he descended the steps to his old bedroom upstairs. He didn’t feel like retreating to the summerhouse out back…too many painful memories. Why wasn’t Jacy calling him?
Tristan tugged on his tie to loosen it. His family and Jason’s family had gone out for lunch together, following the draft. It had been a nice opportunity to get better acquainted with his quarterback, but Tristan had definitely found it difficult to stomach seeing Jason and his fiancée act so lovingly in front of him. It made him feel bitter, and he was momentarily angry with Jason for having provided advice that didn’t appear to be working.
It had only been three weeks, but Tristan missed Jacy so much that it physically hurt him. His heart ached. God, how he missed that beautiful, long brown hair of hers and her passion-filled hazel eyes. He missed her gorgeous, curvy body and her laughter that sounded like bells. He missed her humor and wit. But more than anything else, Tristan missed that connection that he shared only with Jacy.
Tristan fell back into bed in only his boxers. He was too damn tired to wash up, and he didn’t want any more time to think about how much he missed Jacy and how she’d refused to accompany him to the draft. It had been Tristan’s attempt at a white flag, but Jacy had practically stomped on it with muddy boots. He wasn’t mad at her, but the gesture nearly killed his spirit.
As Tristan closed his eyes, he thought about all the times he had to struggle to overcome an obstacle in his life. He thought about his dyslexia and his brother’s death and the hurricane that had destroyed his chances of playing college ball in Texas. Tristan thought about how rewarding overcoming all those obstacles had been. Sure, he still missed his brother like crazy, but moving past Lucas’s death had ultimately helped him win the BCS Championship game with the Hawks, hadn’t it?
And then he thought about his relationship with Jacy. It was just another one of those challenges, wasn’t it? There was no way in hell that he was giving up now; she meant too much to him. The only question was…
How was he going to overcome this one?
****
1200 Astor Avenue. This was the correct address. Tristan hoped to God that there wasn’t another semi-famous author by the name of Fred Hewitt living in LA. He’d used some of his newly established connections to locate Jacy’s estranged father, but there were so many people with the same name in a big city like Los Angeles that he most certainly could have erred. Tristan took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the townhouse.
No answer. Shit. He hadn’t anticipated what to do if the guy wasn’t at home. He’d come all the way out here, and –
The door swung open.
A tall, fairly handsome man, who actually looked a little younger than his own father, appeared in the doorway. He had jet-black hair that was graying at the temples and the same piercing hazel eyes that his daughter had.
“Can I help you?”
Tristan cleared his throat. “Yes. Are you Fred Hewitt?”
“Who’s asking?”
Tristan extended his hand. “My name’s Tristan Carter. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”
“Which one?”
“Jacinda,” Tristan answered, a little offended by the man’s gruff tone.
“You don’t say.”
Tristan ignored the older man’s surprise and went on. “That’s actually what my visit’s regarding, Sir. I’d like to speak with you about her.”
Jacy’s father ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “You’d probably have better luck with her mother. I haven’t seen Jacy in five years, son.”
“I know,” Tristan answered. He hesitated before continuing. “I think it’s time to change that, Mr. Hewitt.”
Jacy’s father looked taken aback by Tristan’s declaration. “And why is that?”
“Because I want to marry her, Sir. And I’d like your blessing.”
Jacy’s father crossed his arms over his chest. He was about to say something but stopped. Instead, he moved aside and gestured with his head for Tristan to enter the residence. Tristan complied.
The small house was musty – a bona fide bachelor’s pad. It was disorganized because Fred Hewitt was now an unmarried, unattached man, but the fact that he was an author added to the mess. Piles of manuscripts, pens, and crumpled up balls of paper littered virtually every space of the first floor.
Jacy’s father made his way into the living room and moved the stack of books from the cushions to the coffee table. He gestured for Tristan to take a seat and sat in the armchair directly across the sofa. As he lowered himself into the chair, his hazel gaze remained leveled directly at Tristan. It was eerie, almost as if Jacy was staring right back at him. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from the West Coast.”
“Trinity Falls, a small town in Texas.”
“Why does your name sound so damn familiar?” Hewitt asked.
“I’ve been in the news lately, Sir. I’ve just been drafted by the 49ers to play ball.”
Hewitt’s eyes widened. “Impressive. So…a good-looking football stud wants to marry my daughter? Am I on ‘Candid Camera’ or something?”
“Sorry, Sir?”
“Why would you want to marry Jacy?”
Tristan was starting to grow irritated. Why should he have to justify why he wanted Jacy? “Because I’m in love with her, Mr. Hewitt.”
“We’re talking about the same Jacy, right? About 5’5”, long brown hair, hazel eyes, and…uh…a little…heavy?”
Tristan twitched. “She’s a beautiful girl, Sir. A lot can change in five years.”
Tristan wanted to make a point with his last comment, and he was satisfied when it appeared to have struck a nerve within Jacy’s father. He averted his gaze from Tristan and tried to appear as un-guilty as possible but was doing a miserable job of it.
“How is my girl?”
Tristan was a little stunned with the turn of the conversation. “Sh-she’s doin’ all right.” As Tristan stared back at Jacy’s father, he detected an almost imperceptible trace of remorse in the older man’s eyes. It couldn’t be, could it?
Jacy’s father ran his hand over his mouth, probably thinking about what to say or ask next. He looked like a man with a million questions on his mind. Tristan decided that maybe he should take over.
“I need your help, Mr. Hewitt.”
His head snapped up. “Why?”
“Because as much as I love your daughter…and as much as she is aware of it…I’m in serious danger of losing her, Sir. I can’t let that happen.”
“And you think that I’ll be able to help you win her back?” He looked skeptical. “If you don’t know how unlikely that is, then she must’ve not told you everything I –
“She told me everything, Sir,” Tristan corrected.
“Then, I’m surprised you think she gives a shit what I think.” He threw his head back and sighed. “You definitely have my blessing. I’m sure you make my daughter happy, but I don’t think my blessing is going to bring her back to you.”
“It might if you told her in person,” Tristan ventured.
Jacy’s father froze. “What?”
“Five years without so much as a ‘hi, how are you doing?’ I think you owe your daughter that much.”
Hewitt’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re in over your head, son. What happened within our family isn’t your business.”
“I’ll have to disagree, Mr. Hewitt. You see, it involves Jacy, and everything about her is my business.”
“What makes you think she won’t slam the door in my face when she sees me?”
“You’re her father, Sir. Jacy thinks that you don’t care her about her. She’s got a billion questions swirling around her head about you, and I won’t lie and tell you she’ll give you the warmest of receptions…but…she won’t willingly shut you out of her life.” Tristan sighed. “You’re her father, for fuck’s sake. Do the right thing…for once.”
Jacy’s daughter didn’t flinch at Tristan’s swearing. Being a writer, he probably used such language in his writing all the time. He averted his gaze from Tristan again and glanced around his living room a bit listlessly. And then, he finally spoke.
“I love my girl too.” Tristan was positive that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination; Jacy’s father actually had tears forming in his eyes. “I miss her. I miss my little ones too, but I can’t lie…Jacy’s always been my favorite. She had my penchant for sarcasm but her mother’s heart; it was the strangest combination of traits.”
Tristan exhaled. “I guess the most logical thing to ask was why you haven’t called Jacy or her sisters.”
Hewitt lowered his head. “I tried…a bunch of times. I’d pick up the receiver and start dialing and then…I chickened out.”
“Why?”
“I was a complete and utter asshole to Jacy’s mother before I left. I’d like to blame it on the alcohol that I was practically swimming in around that time, but the truth was that I was selfish. I still am, for the most part. I guess I wanted to convince everyone that they were in the wrong, not me. Also, I…I didn’t have the guts to call them up and say ‘Hey, how are you doing? It’s Dad’ and then hear the dial tone as they hung up on me. I assumed that nobody ever wanted to hear from me again.”
“That was a foolish assumption.”
Jacy’s father laughed ruefully. “Yeah. I guess it was.”
“So fix things now, Mr. Hewitt. You gave your daughters five years of indifference; the least you can do is help me out.”
“It’s too late.”
“No,” Tristan corrected. “Look, Mr. Hewitt. I’m not trying to mend your family. I’m not going to promise you that I can put things back together…but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make your daughter happy.” Tristan looked hopeful. “I need your help though.”
Jacy’s father appeared to mull things over. He inhaled deeply before answering. “How soon do you need me?”
“The sooner, the better,” Tristan answered, pulling out a piece of paper. “I’ve got to get back to North Mission, Mr. Hewitt, but this is my contact information. I’d really like if you came back with me today, but I realize how much of a shock this must all seem to you.” Tristan handed the paper over to Jacy’s father. “Please help me out, Sir.”
Jacy’s father gave Tristan a nod before the latter walked out of the living room, and eventually, out of Fred Hewitt’s house. Nothing was for certain. He couldn’t be sure that Jacy’s father would pull through; he hadn’t before, had he? Still, Tristan was clinging onto the last shred of hope he still had within him – hope that he was determined to use in order to bring his Jacy back to him.
****
A/N: I know...it was kinda cheap bringing Jacy's father back at this point of the story. Still, I had always wanted to delve deeper into his character, so hopefully, you'll forgive me. Thank you.
“With the second pick of the draft, the San Francisco 49ers choose Tristan Carter, wide receiver, of NMU.”
Tristan’s friends, family, and fans erupted into loud cheers. He feigned surprise, even though he knew going into the draft that he’d be a top ten pick. He slowly made his way up to the podium, where Roger Goodell, the commissioner of the National Football League, greeted him.
“Good to meet you, Carter. Nervous, son?”
“No, Sir,” Tristan answered with the utmost confidence. He put the 49ers cap on his head and posed for the photo, holding his team’s jersey. As he looked out into the audience, he saw that his mother was close to tears, while his father was beaming. Darren looked proud, while Gareth was grinning; son-of-a-bitch knew that he’d be here in a few years anyway. Tristan was happy to see everyone that he loved out in the crowd.
Well…almost everyone.
Tristan had heeded Jacy’s advice and not contacted her via phone or in-person once since their fight nearly three weeks ago. He’d secretly hoped that she’d come around and admit that she had made a mistake in wanting to end their relationship so soon.
But she hadn’t. Could Tristan really say he was so surprised? He really did miss her though. As Tristan smiled out into the crowd, he was silently counting the seconds until Jacy came back into his life.
****
Go Tristan, Jacy thought to herself. Even though no one else was saying anything, she was cheering him on. Second pick? That was pretty fucking impressive.
“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” Ryan said, getting up from the couch.
“I’m gonna go follow him and make sure he doesn’t punch my walls,” Lani added when Ryan was about halfway to the kitchen.
“And to think…that could’ve been you,” Stephanie added with a sigh.
Joe kissed her on the cheek. “I wouldn’t have been a first round, second pick, sweetheart.”
“I’m just joking,” Stephanie added.
Jacy tried to ignore their repartee because it reminded her too much of what she had had with Tristan…when they hadn’t been fighting with each other. Tristan had inexplicably severed all direct communication with her after their fight, and Jacy didn’t know whether to thank or hate Jason for having so effectively knocked some sense into the boy.
The only form of communication Jacy had received was a ticket to attend the draft in New York about two weeks ago. A plane ticket had been included and everything, but Jacy knew she couldn’t go. She couldn’t be tempted to run back into his arms and rekindle what couldn’t happen – a relationship with Tristan Carter, who would now most certainly be on every living, breathing American’s radar.
Still, she missed him terribly.
“With the twelfth pick of the draft, the Miami Dolphins choose Jason Kent, quarterback, of NMU.”
Stephanie screamed, and Jacy snapped out of her reverie. “Oh my God! Guys, Jason was taken by the Dolphins!”
Ryan and Lani sprinted back into the living room. Joe was on the edge of his seat. The camera momentarily stopped on Delaney, sitting with Jason’s mother and father.
“That’s our girl!” Stephanie screamed.
Jacy rolled her eyes at Stephanie’s excitability. Still, she was so happy for Jason and Delaney. They were going to be able to live their lives happily ever after.
Unlike her.
****
“Would you like some more potatoes, honey?”
Tristan’s lifted his gaze up to his mother and smiled. “I’m good, Mom.”
She put the bowl of potatoes down and wrapped her arms around Tristan once more. “I am so proud to have you for a son.”
“Cyndi, stop coddling the boy!” Boyd roared good-naturedly. “He’s a professional football player now, for heaven’s sakes.”
“He’s leaving for school again, Boyd. I want to get as many hugs in before he leaves. Plus my baby’s tired. Two flights in two days?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Tristan took a gulp of water before rising from the table. “But I am pretty tired, so I’m gonna go to bed right about now.” Tristan kissed his mother on the cheek and acknowledged his father.
“Good night, Son.”
The smile that Tristan had plastered on his handsome face for his parents disappeared as soon as he descended the steps to his old bedroom upstairs. He didn’t feel like retreating to the summerhouse out back…too many painful memories. Why wasn’t Jacy calling him?
Tristan tugged on his tie to loosen it. His family and Jason’s family had gone out for lunch together, following the draft. It had been a nice opportunity to get better acquainted with his quarterback, but Tristan had definitely found it difficult to stomach seeing Jason and his fiancée act so lovingly in front of him. It made him feel bitter, and he was momentarily angry with Jason for having provided advice that didn’t appear to be working.
It had only been three weeks, but Tristan missed Jacy so much that it physically hurt him. His heart ached. God, how he missed that beautiful, long brown hair of hers and her passion-filled hazel eyes. He missed her gorgeous, curvy body and her laughter that sounded like bells. He missed her humor and wit. But more than anything else, Tristan missed that connection that he shared only with Jacy.
Tristan fell back into bed in only his boxers. He was too damn tired to wash up, and he didn’t want any more time to think about how much he missed Jacy and how she’d refused to accompany him to the draft. It had been Tristan’s attempt at a white flag, but Jacy had practically stomped on it with muddy boots. He wasn’t mad at her, but the gesture nearly killed his spirit.
As Tristan closed his eyes, he thought about all the times he had to struggle to overcome an obstacle in his life. He thought about his dyslexia and his brother’s death and the hurricane that had destroyed his chances of playing college ball in Texas. Tristan thought about how rewarding overcoming all those obstacles had been. Sure, he still missed his brother like crazy, but moving past Lucas’s death had ultimately helped him win the BCS Championship game with the Hawks, hadn’t it?
And then he thought about his relationship with Jacy. It was just another one of those challenges, wasn’t it? There was no way in hell that he was giving up now; she meant too much to him. The only question was…
How was he going to overcome this one?
****
1200 Astor Avenue. This was the correct address. Tristan hoped to God that there wasn’t another semi-famous author by the name of Fred Hewitt living in LA. He’d used some of his newly established connections to locate Jacy’s estranged father, but there were so many people with the same name in a big city like Los Angeles that he most certainly could have erred. Tristan took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the townhouse.
No answer. Shit. He hadn’t anticipated what to do if the guy wasn’t at home. He’d come all the way out here, and –
The door swung open.
A tall, fairly handsome man, who actually looked a little younger than his own father, appeared in the doorway. He had jet-black hair that was graying at the temples and the same piercing hazel eyes that his daughter had.
“Can I help you?”
Tristan cleared his throat. “Yes. Are you Fred Hewitt?”
“Who’s asking?”
Tristan extended his hand. “My name’s Tristan Carter. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”
“Which one?”
“Jacinda,” Tristan answered, a little offended by the man’s gruff tone.
“You don’t say.”
Tristan ignored the older man’s surprise and went on. “That’s actually what my visit’s regarding, Sir. I’d like to speak with you about her.”
Jacy’s father ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “You’d probably have better luck with her mother. I haven’t seen Jacy in five years, son.”
“I know,” Tristan answered. He hesitated before continuing. “I think it’s time to change that, Mr. Hewitt.”
Jacy’s father looked taken aback by Tristan’s declaration. “And why is that?”
“Because I want to marry her, Sir. And I’d like your blessing.”
Jacy’s father crossed his arms over his chest. He was about to say something but stopped. Instead, he moved aside and gestured with his head for Tristan to enter the residence. Tristan complied.
The small house was musty – a bona fide bachelor’s pad. It was disorganized because Fred Hewitt was now an unmarried, unattached man, but the fact that he was an author added to the mess. Piles of manuscripts, pens, and crumpled up balls of paper littered virtually every space of the first floor.
Jacy’s father made his way into the living room and moved the stack of books from the cushions to the coffee table. He gestured for Tristan to take a seat and sat in the armchair directly across the sofa. As he lowered himself into the chair, his hazel gaze remained leveled directly at Tristan. It was eerie, almost as if Jacy was staring right back at him. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from the West Coast.”
“Trinity Falls, a small town in Texas.”
“Why does your name sound so damn familiar?” Hewitt asked.
“I’ve been in the news lately, Sir. I’ve just been drafted by the 49ers to play ball.”
Hewitt’s eyes widened. “Impressive. So…a good-looking football stud wants to marry my daughter? Am I on ‘Candid Camera’ or something?”
“Sorry, Sir?”
“Why would you want to marry Jacy?”
Tristan was starting to grow irritated. Why should he have to justify why he wanted Jacy? “Because I’m in love with her, Mr. Hewitt.”
“We’re talking about the same Jacy, right? About 5’5”, long brown hair, hazel eyes, and…uh…a little…heavy?”
Tristan twitched. “She’s a beautiful girl, Sir. A lot can change in five years.”
Tristan wanted to make a point with his last comment, and he was satisfied when it appeared to have struck a nerve within Jacy’s father. He averted his gaze from Tristan and tried to appear as un-guilty as possible but was doing a miserable job of it.
“How is my girl?”
Tristan was a little stunned with the turn of the conversation. “Sh-she’s doin’ all right.” As Tristan stared back at Jacy’s father, he detected an almost imperceptible trace of remorse in the older man’s eyes. It couldn’t be, could it?
Jacy’s father ran his hand over his mouth, probably thinking about what to say or ask next. He looked like a man with a million questions on his mind. Tristan decided that maybe he should take over.
“I need your help, Mr. Hewitt.”
His head snapped up. “Why?”
“Because as much as I love your daughter…and as much as she is aware of it…I’m in serious danger of losing her, Sir. I can’t let that happen.”
“And you think that I’ll be able to help you win her back?” He looked skeptical. “If you don’t know how unlikely that is, then she must’ve not told you everything I –
“She told me everything, Sir,” Tristan corrected.
“Then, I’m surprised you think she gives a shit what I think.” He threw his head back and sighed. “You definitely have my blessing. I’m sure you make my daughter happy, but I don’t think my blessing is going to bring her back to you.”
“It might if you told her in person,” Tristan ventured.
Jacy’s father froze. “What?”
“Five years without so much as a ‘hi, how are you doing?’ I think you owe your daughter that much.”
Hewitt’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re in over your head, son. What happened within our family isn’t your business.”
“I’ll have to disagree, Mr. Hewitt. You see, it involves Jacy, and everything about her is my business.”
“What makes you think she won’t slam the door in my face when she sees me?”
“You’re her father, Sir. Jacy thinks that you don’t care her about her. She’s got a billion questions swirling around her head about you, and I won’t lie and tell you she’ll give you the warmest of receptions…but…she won’t willingly shut you out of her life.” Tristan sighed. “You’re her father, for fuck’s sake. Do the right thing…for once.”
Jacy’s daughter didn’t flinch at Tristan’s swearing. Being a writer, he probably used such language in his writing all the time. He averted his gaze from Tristan again and glanced around his living room a bit listlessly. And then, he finally spoke.
“I love my girl too.” Tristan was positive that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination; Jacy’s father actually had tears forming in his eyes. “I miss her. I miss my little ones too, but I can’t lie…Jacy’s always been my favorite. She had my penchant for sarcasm but her mother’s heart; it was the strangest combination of traits.”
Tristan exhaled. “I guess the most logical thing to ask was why you haven’t called Jacy or her sisters.”
Hewitt lowered his head. “I tried…a bunch of times. I’d pick up the receiver and start dialing and then…I chickened out.”
“Why?”
“I was a complete and utter asshole to Jacy’s mother before I left. I’d like to blame it on the alcohol that I was practically swimming in around that time, but the truth was that I was selfish. I still am, for the most part. I guess I wanted to convince everyone that they were in the wrong, not me. Also, I…I didn’t have the guts to call them up and say ‘Hey, how are you doing? It’s Dad’ and then hear the dial tone as they hung up on me. I assumed that nobody ever wanted to hear from me again.”
“That was a foolish assumption.”
Jacy’s father laughed ruefully. “Yeah. I guess it was.”
“So fix things now, Mr. Hewitt. You gave your daughters five years of indifference; the least you can do is help me out.”
“It’s too late.”
“No,” Tristan corrected. “Look, Mr. Hewitt. I’m not trying to mend your family. I’m not going to promise you that I can put things back together…but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make your daughter happy.” Tristan looked hopeful. “I need your help though.”
Jacy’s father appeared to mull things over. He inhaled deeply before answering. “How soon do you need me?”
“The sooner, the better,” Tristan answered, pulling out a piece of paper. “I’ve got to get back to North Mission, Mr. Hewitt, but this is my contact information. I’d really like if you came back with me today, but I realize how much of a shock this must all seem to you.” Tristan handed the paper over to Jacy’s father. “Please help me out, Sir.”
Jacy’s father gave Tristan a nod before the latter walked out of the living room, and eventually, out of Fred Hewitt’s house. Nothing was for certain. He couldn’t be sure that Jacy’s father would pull through; he hadn’t before, had he? Still, Tristan was clinging onto the last shred of hope he still had within him – hope that he was determined to use in order to bring his Jacy back to him.
****
A/N: I know...it was kinda cheap bringing Jacy's father back at this point of the story. Still, I had always wanted to delve deeper into his character, so hopefully, you'll forgive me. Thank you.