I’d dropped Lola off at her house the previous evening. The weekend had been crazy and I hadn’t anticipated Lola’s silence throughout the journey home. Riley had roped me into driving back. He was still hung-over and in no fit state to drive. As much as I valued my life, I wished we had waited a few more hours so Riley could have done the driving. Things were tense between Lola and me, and I really wanted to sort them out.

I felt like shit for bringing up the whole Riley and Melanie thing. Thinking back, I didn’t even know why I’d said it. I was used to Riley being a dick, especially when he’d had a drink, but I was pissed at him. He was hell bent on stirring shit up, and Lola and I had just started to make headway in whatever this thing was between us. Unable to bite my tongue, I blurted shit out that not only ruined Riley and Brie’s relationship, but mine and Lola’s, too. Proving to her how sorry I was would be a huge task—one I wasn’t sure I could complete. She was pissed at me and I couldn’t blame her. She was barely able to look at me on the way back, and when she did, she would only offer a brief smile that was obviously forced.

When I arrived back home and made it to my room, I found the unopened letters scattered on my bed. I hadn’t seen or heard from my dad since he’d been sent down. Mum thought it was best I didn’t, and I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t want to see him, but the longer I avoided the letters, the more they came. I took one from the pile and turned it over. ‘Falton Prison’ was stamped on the back of the envelope in faded blank ink. I knew that no good could come from opening them, but curiosity got the better of me and I tore one open. It wasn’t a letter from him. It was a visiting order. There were four of them.

As time passed, each day just seemed to get worse. I was drunk more often than I was sober, drowning myself in the liquid that allowed me to forget everything. I blew off another study session with Lola and didn’t even have the balls to let her know. I knew the second I did, she would work some kind of magic on me and I’d end up telling her everything. I couldn’t do that. I’d promised myself when I came to Winslow Falls that I would leave it all behind me, but that never happened. It was only getting worse.

I couldn’t think about how bad I felt for fucking with Lola. I was doing it for her, after all. She didn’t need more shit in her life and I would bring nothing but crap to her feet. She had even tried to make eye contact with me a few times at school and I just looked beyond her like she wasn’t even there. I noticed the way her face fell when I did that, but she’d soon get over it. She had to. I couldn’t be her friend. I couldn’t be her anything. As much as I wished things were different, they weren’t. I was an arse, and Lola was better off without me screwing her up any further. I knew that she’d get the hint soon enough. See, she wasn’t like the rest of them. She wouldn’t waste her time on someone who wasn’t interested in her. She was better than that. I wouldn’t drag her into my messed up world. I had already done that to Jake. I wasn’t about to put Lola through the same. She’d only end up hating me in the long run. Now, I just needed to convince myself that she was better off away from me. The longer I went without her, though, the harder it was to let go. The more I tried to push her from my mind, the more I thought about the times we’d spent together. The way her breath caught in her throat whenever I touched her, and the way she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth when I slid my tongue along her breast. Lola was beautiful, even at her worst, but in those few moments when she came apart for me, I knew I’d never see anything like it again.

I was breathing hard by the time I arrived back at the house. The run was supposed to clear my head and release the anger I was struggling to shift, but each pound of my shoe against the hard pavement only made it worse. I wanted to hate my dad. After everything he had done, I wanted to hate him, but he was still my dad. I couldn’t hate him even if I tried. And believe me, I’d tried.

When I woke up this morning, I made up my mind. Seeing my dad again after all this time wasn’t something that came easily to me. In fact, I’d spent most of the night wondering what the hell I was going to do about the letters. Ignoring them was an option, but I had already tried that. Knowing he would only continue to send them left me with only one other option: I would have to go to see him.

After showering and getting dressed, I headed downstairs, hoping I would catch Jake before he left for school and convince him to let me use his car. Hearing the distant noise of the television as I rounded the corner towards the kitchen, I knew he hadn’t left. Jake, having heard me enter the room, lifted his eyes briefly from whatever sports channel he was watching and chucked me a silent nod.

I greeted him back with one of my own. “Can I borrow your car today?”

“Use your own,” he shot back, his eyes returning to the programme he was watching.

“I would…if I had one,” I said. Noticing his jacket hung on the door, I sifted through the pocket for the keys anyway, knowing he would eventually agree.

Jake shot me knowing look. “We both know that’s a lie.” He rolled his eyes and flicked them back to the screen.

Fine. So maybe it was a lie. Uncle Colin had bought me a pity car when I’d moved here, saying I would need it for college. So far, I hadn’t used it so it was gathering dust in the garage. Accepting it didn’t feel right. I didn’t need his handouts and I didn’t need his pity. When I made the league, I would be buying my own. I’d have been lying again if I said it wasn’t crappy having to rely on lifts everywhere, but I was stubborn. Another trait I’d inherited from my father.

I sighed. I really didn’t have time to play games. “Look, can I use it or not?”

“Not,” he said in a bored tone. This time he didn’t look my way.

“Fine.” I shrugged. “I’ll get the train.” I tossed the keys on the worktop in front of him.

“What do you need it for anyway? Don’t you have classes today?”

“Nah, not today. There’s something I have to take care of.” That was a lie. I did have classes and without Lola, I was slowly falling behind again. I wouldn’t tell Jake that, though. He would only worry.

He groaned and chucked the keys back. They fell at my feet. “Fine, take the damn car, but if it comes back dented again then you’re paying for it.”

That was it. No interrogation, no where are you really going or who are you really going to see? Jake had always been understanding that way. He wasn’t one to question my decisions unless it came to football, and I think even then he only intervened because he knew how much it meant to me.

I shot him a thank you as I headed outside and into the car.

We all had certain expectations when we heard the word prison. Big iron fences and throat-slitting barbed wire sprang to mind. Maybe I’d watched too many American films because Falton Prison was nothing like what I had expected.

As I pulled the Range Rover into a parking space, my gaze lingered on the surrounding greenery that had been cornered off by four rows of gated fences, leading off to a long rectangular building and eventually on to a larger one. I looked farther out into the distance at the wooden benches that sat off to the sides and wondered if the prisoners used that area. Maybe even my dad. Behind me was another building—a smaller one, which I took to be the reception office. It was small compared to the other buildings it led onto, and my mouth went dry at the realisation that my father was somewhere inside.

A part of me was excited at the thought. It was like Christmas Eve four years earlier—before everything had turned to shit. I had that same feeling of excitement, knowing that any minute my dad would walk through the door from a busy week at work. But as I glanced down at the piece of paper clutched tightly in my hand, I knew that wasn’t the case this time.

I sighed to myself, knowing I needed to get this over with before my instincts kicked in and made me chicken out.

After emptying my belongings into a grey, plastic tray, I signed my name on a clipboard that the butch receptionist handed over. Once I had, she ushered me through a door and down a long corridor that lead to a canteen style room.

Small, rectangular chairs were set in straight lines, and there were four, maybe five prisoners already sat behind them waiting for their visitors. I glanced around, wondering why I hadn’t run yet. Suddenly, there was no anxiety swirling inside of me. I knew why I was here. I felt no real threat or intimidation. They were just normal people, like me. Except these people were convicted criminals. Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have even batted an eyelid at these men. They looked just like any one of us, only they were wearing matching yellow vests.

My eyes drifted around the room as it slowly began to fill. Voices came from behind me and I moved to the side, out of the way. That was when I saw him—Dad—sitting in the far right hand corner of the room. He examined me warily as I stalked across the room towards him, pulled out a chair and took the seat in front of him.

“It’s good to see you, son,” he said. “You look well.” His blue eyes were dull now and the whites were yellowing at the edges. His face was cleanly shaven and I wondered if that was a rule here or something, as most of the others seemed to be neatly shaven, too. It was like being in the damn army. His hair, although shaved to the scalp, was now grey, no hint of brown to be seen. He looked old. That was the only way to describe the man in front of me. I guessed the years hadn’t been so kind to him, either. I wouldn’t let on how happy that thought made me, even if he deserved to know how his leaving had thoroughly fucked me up.

I cleared my throat, afraid my words wouldn’t come out. “Why am I here?”

Dad leant forward, his eyes drifting across the room before they met mine again. “I needed to see you, Taylor.”

“Why now? Why after all this time?”

“I spoke to your mum. She told me what happened. That when I… Well, you know… She told me. I’m sorry, Tay. I really am sorry.”

“That’s it? You brought me all the way here so you could tell me how sorry you are for ruining my life? Well gee, thanks, Dad. Now I feel so much better,” I spat out.

“I see the sarcasm is still alive in you.” He grinned.

I shrugged. “What can I say? I take after my dad.”

Dad dipped his eyes, his face paling ever so slightly. “I tried to do good by you, son. God knows I tried.”

“Just not enough, though, right?”

He nodded.

Everything in me told me to leave, to go and never look back, to remove the image of this man from every part of my brain. But he was my dad, and despite everything, I couldn’t not love him. That didn’t mean I liked him, though.

“I wanted your mum to be the one to tell you. After everything, I thought maybe she would have done it by now. Now that you no longer live with her… I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” I asked. What more could he possibly have to tell me?

“There’s no easy way to say this, son, but you deserve to know…”

“Know what?”

“I don’t know how to—”

“Just spit it out, Dad.”

“Taylor, I’m not your real father.”

I waited for a few moments before saying anything.

I wasn’t sure I could have spoken if I tried.

Had I heard wrong?

Had he really just said that?

“You have to understand that I would’ve done anything for you,” he continued when I couldn’t do anything but stare at him. “You may not be my biological son but you are and always will be mine, Taylor. I have watched you grow from a snotty-nosed kid in to a strong, confident man, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

"This is a lie," I told him. It had to be.

“I’m sorry. I wish it was.”

“Who is he? My real dad—who is he?” I said, finally finding my voice and still convinced this had to be a joke. Even with the truth written across his face for once, I wanted so hard to believe that this was a joke. A really bad one at that.

“I can’t answer that for you.”

“Oh, I damn well think you can.” My hands gripped the table in front of me, my knuckles turning white from the amount of pressure I applied. I wanted to feel something, anything, but the hurt those five words had caused me.

“No. I promised your mum that if any of this came out, I would let her be the one to tell you.”

“Why the hell now? You’ve had plenty of chances to tell me. Why now and why here? Why not just write it in a damn letter?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, son. I couldn’t. I owe you this at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything, except maybe a name.” The bitter edge to my voice was something I’d never heard before. I was many things but bitter wasn’t one of them.

“I am not going to do that. I want what’s best for you. I’ve only ever wanted what is best for you.”

“If you weren’t in here, if none of this had happened, would you still have told me?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Nice. Real nice, Dad.”

“Look, you’re my son. If this hadn’t gone down then I would’ve been there for you to see you through college and provide for you. I can’t do that while I’m in here. I need to know that you are looked after and provided for in a way I can’t do. I need to know that giving you up is the right thing to do. I want to see you succeed in life in ways that I didn’t. I don’t want you to end up like me. I want better for you.”

“And you think me knowing this is the right thing for me? Do you even realise how fucked up this whole thing is, hey? I’ve just found out that the last twenty years of my life have been a lie. That my dad who I looked up to—idolised—isn’t really my father—that he’s probably some waste of space my mother screwed behind your back.”

“I know it seems that way now, and I’m sorry this is happening, truly I am. I wanted nothing more than for you to be mine. But you can’t change the ways of nature. God, if I could be your blood then I would in a heartbeat.”

“Did Mum cheat on you with my real dad?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you stay with her? If you knew she’d had an affair, why stay with her?”

“Because you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“That’s it?”

“You’ll understand one day. That kind of love can make even the strongest of men crumble.”

I pushed back the chair and got to my feet. He wasn’t going to give me anything. Nothing. Even after lying to me my whole damn life, I still meant nothing to him. “If you aren’t going to give me what I need then there’s really no reason for me to stick around. See you around, Tom.”

“Taylor, please? Don’t leave like this, son.”

“Don’t ever call me that.” I pointed. His face fell instantly, but I no longer cared. To think that a stupid part of me had felt sorry for him in some way just made walking away from him that much easier. I didn’t even look back as I left.