Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

TRISTAN

The following morning, I was at my rental house doing a third read-through of Jacob's journals. The first time you read, you always miss something. In order to burn it into my memory, I'd probably never stop reading them.

The toughest part for me was always the section where he wrote about discovering I was his father.

It still doesn't feel real. Tristan Daltrey is my father? Just last month, I was having a conversation with Jaden about the fact that I didn't respect the guy as a musician. I said he prioritized fame and fortune over artistic integrity, writing music without substance to appeal to the masses. When I watched him being interviewed, he always struck me as arrogant. I said the only reason Delirious Jones became popular was one song that went viral on social media. So many musicians deserve that esteem more. I feel guilty now for the shitty stuff I said, even if it still might be true.

I just don't know what to make of this. Cheyenne said it was up to me whether I wanted to contact him. But he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would welcome this kind of news. What if he thinks I'm lying or trying to get money out of him? I'd rather not know him than be rejected.

I feel sick. Why couldn't my father just be some normal Joe?

Tristan Daltrey? Fuck, man.

I closed the notebook and took a few deep breaths. A knock at the door interrupted my wallowing. I lifted my gaze to find Atticus entering the room.

He took one look at me and narrowed his eyes. "What's got you down?" he asked.

"My son thought I was an overrated tool…"

"What makes you say that?"

"I was reading his journal again."

"Well, if he'd met you…" He paused. "He would've confirmed that."

"Thanks a lot, asshole." I chuckled.

"I'm kidding." Atticus pulled a chair out and sat backwards. "But try to stop torturing yourself with things you can't change."

"Easier said than done."

"I know this whole trip is about connecting with him, and that's not easy when he isn't here. But I hate seeing you so damn down like this. You need to cheer up, man. You should come with us to crash this karaoke bar tonight. The locals will shit their pants if you show up."

"I'm not sure how I'll feel after today. I'm supposed to meet Jacob's parents this afternoon."

"I didn't know you were doing that today."

"Yeah. I'm meeting Emily at their house later."

Atticus rested his chin on his hands. "How's it been-hanging out with her?"

"It's a little tense, but that's to be expected."

"You still like her?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I get that. But feelings don't just get erased because of circumstances."

"I can't like her. How about that?" I shrugged. "She's got a boyfriend now anyway."

"And you have a girlfriend."

"Yes. Thanks for the reminder."

He scratched his chin. "You know, I find it kind of weird how you haven't had a girlfriend all these years. And when that whole thing went down with Emily, you jumped right into a relationship."

"What are you insinuating?"

"Not saying it's a bad thing, but just that you might've jumped into something with Nazarene to forget about Emily."

"You're a friggin' genius," I said.

"Nothing wrong with that. Nazarene is a smokeshow. Can't go wrong there. But I feel like you connected with Emily on a deeper level."

I inhaled a deep breath. "I can definitely see why my son loved her so much."

Atticus raised a brow. "Just him who loved her, huh?"

Fuck . I couldn't even begin to ponder whether what I'd felt for Emily was love. I shook my head. "Like I said, doesn't matter."

"You seem to think Jacob would be mad at you for unknowingly messing around with his girl. How do you know he wouldn't understand?"

"He hated me enough as it was. Pretty sure that would only make things worse."

"He didn't hate you. He didn't even know you."

"What gets me is, he wasn't wrong with some of the shit he wrote about our music. But he was definitely wrong in thinking I wouldn't have wanted to know him."

"You would've been a good dad," Atticus said after a moment. "When I need someone to talk to, you're always the first person I go to. When I was going through all that stuff with Nicole, you were a good friend to me. I'll never forget that."

"You're not so bad yourself," I told him. "I appreciate you guys being willing to camp out here while I work through this."

"Are you kidding? I'm having a grand old time corrupting this small town." He winked.

Ronan walked in. "Who are we corrupting now?"

"Not Emily anymore…" Atticus taunted as he hopped off the chair.

I smacked him up the side of his head.

***

The house where my son grew up was as picturesque and reminiscent of a small town as you could imagine. It had a wraparound porch and a big backyard with a lush garden.

Rick and Carol Mahoney were the nicest people, too. It brought me great comfort to know Jacob had such good parents. If I couldn't raise him myself, that was the next best thing. The Mahoneys were twenty years older than me, so technically they were old enough to be my parents, too. And so far, they treated me more like a son than Jacob's father. It brought me some solace to know Jacob had been their first and only child after a long battle with infertility. They'd decided to adopt in their mid-thirties.

After showing me around their property for over an hour, we sat down and had lunch together. Rick had brought in a gigantic bowl of garden tomatoes to send home with me. I wasn't a cook, but I sure as heck could slice up a tomato and drizzle some olive oil on it.

Carol stared at me all throughout the meal, probably because she noticed a lot of Jacob in my face. When she looked at me, I was sure she saw what he might've looked like when he was older, had he not passed away.

As we were finishing up, she turned to Emily. "We're so grateful for you, Em. I'd never planned to read Jacob's journals, because I know how he felt about me butting into his business. I didn't want to upset him even now. But I never imagined they held such meaningful information. I always thought he'd tell me if he was going to find his birth mother. But I suppose he didn't want to upset me. He made up a story about going out of town that weekend with some friends when in reality, he'd gone to see her." She turned to me again. "So, we're very lucky Emily found you. You're a part of our son. And part of our family now, too."

My chest squeezed tight. "That means so much to me. And I can't thank you enough for giving him a better childhood than I ever could've. He was truly blessed."

"We were the blessed ones," Rick said.

Emily smiled sadly over at me. This walk down memory lane couldn't have been easy for her.

"And I have to thank Emily as well," I said. "I don't know how I could've gone through life not knowing I had a son."

"Sometime I've got to show you the photos of Jacob and Emily when they were little. They were so cute together," Carol said.

I turned to Emily. "You never told me how you met him."

She smiled. "I was about seven. Jacob was flying a kite in a park, and the wind took it away. It caught on a branch and wrapped around it. I sort of laughed at him trying to free it, but then I asked if he needed help. We ended up flying the kite together, and I realized he lived down the street. I always kind of felt like that kite getting stuck was meant to be."

It was crazy how one simple thing could change the course of someone's life. If Jacob had never met Emily, who knew if I'd have known about him. Those journals might've gone unread forever.

"I love that story," I said.

"Would you like to spend some time in Jacob's room while you're here?" Rick asked.

"Could I? I would love that."

"Of course." Carol stood. "Follow me."

She led Emily and me to a bedroom at the end of a small hallway.

There was a Chicago Bears poster on the wall. I smiled, satisfied that my son had liked one of my favorite teams. A few pennants were also hung up.

I ran my finger along one of them. "He played baseball? He never mentioned that in the journals."

"Little League and then through high school, yes," Carol answered.

"I played, too." I smiled. "But I stopped before middle school. Kind of dropped sports the more I got into music."

An image of teaching Jacob to play ball as a little boy flashed through my mind. Imagined doing that and getting to see him grow up and play in high school. As much as that made my chest ache, I was happy Rick had gotten to share it with him.

There were a bunch of old textbooks piled on a desk.

This room felt lived in and had clearly remained untouched since his passing.

A navy comforter with a thick orange line down the middle covered his bed. And across from the bed was a closet filled with clothes. There was a pile of shoes on the closet floor.

"Someone had a sneaker addiction," I said.

"He rarely spent his money on anything else," Carol said.

I'd have bought him an entire house full of sneakers if I could. I'd never felt Jacob's presence stronger than in this room. It was different from reading his diary. He felt alive here, like he could walk in at any moment.

I wandered over to the closet and ran my hand along the clothes. The realization that he was never coming back came in waves. And when it did, utter sadness consumed me.

Taking one of his shirts off a hanger, I brought it to my face and smelled it, smelled him for the first time. I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the son I never knew.

Even if you think I'm an overrated buffoon, I'll always love you.