“I kept telling myself I had waited too long. Every year made that excuse easier.”
I believed him.
That didn’t excuse him.
“Does Lucas know about me?” he asked.
“He knows his father exists.”
“Can I see him?”
“No.”
His head lifted.
“I’m his father.”
“You are the man who fathered him. What happens next depends on what you choose to do now.”
He swallowed.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Write him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Tell him who you are. Tell him why you weren’t there. And tell him why you’re here now.”
He nodded.
“And don’t blame Teagan.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t get credit for finally showing up ten years late,” I said. “But you do get a chance to decide what kind of man you’re going to be from this point forward.”
Two days later, an envelope appeared on my porch.
Lucas’s name was written across the front.
I hated opening something addressed to him.
But Lucas was ten, and I was still responsible for protecting him.
One sentence stayed with me.
I was scared when I was eighteen, but being scared doesn’t explain ten years.
He asked for no forgiveness.
He blamed no one.
Before I gave the letter to Lucas, I called Trudy again.
“Can we meet?”
She sounded surprised.
“I thought you’d never want to see me again.”
“I didn’t say I forgave you.”
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