I was tempted to keep walking, but I wasn’t going to let him be the bigger person. Not this time. I turned.

He looked old. Now that I could see him up close, I saw gray hairs dominated his temples. There were more wrinkles on his face than I would expect for a man his age. His shoulders were more stooped, and if I hadn’t known him, I would have thought he was a man close to twenty years his senior.

We stood just staring at each other. Gene was the first to break the ice.

He stepped to the aisle. " I wish Alan hadn’t made such a mess of things. His heart was in the right place. He was just trying to do something to help me out after…well, it doesn’t matter. It was never my intention to hurt you, Jax. And it wasn't Grace’s either."

"I wish a lot of things were different, too. But 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.'”

“True. But not everything is always as black and white as we’d like to make them out to be either.”

“Feels pretty black and white to me. Every time you come into my life I get screwed. Literally and figuratively.”

He paled.

Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t have anything to say about that!

“Grace is really upset. Please talk to her. Don’t let your issues with me get in the way of a good thing with her.”

I took a step closer. “Stay out of it, Gene. Who are you to give advice anyway?”

“Fair enough. I guess this has been a long time coming.”

I glared at him, but he didn’t flinch. “I’d have rather it not come at all. How long have you lived here? Does my mother know? Where’s Mallory? She’s not here, too, is she?”

Gene handled my rapid fire with amazing calm as if he’d anticipated my questions. It only worked to piss me off further. I stood and began to pace the small space behind me. I’d had years to think of the questions I wanted to ask him, the threats I wanted to throw at him. But I hadn’t ever figured I’d get answers; hadn’t had time to assimilate that by some chance of fucking fate that I’d be here.

“I’ve been here for about five years. I didn’t know at first, of course, but after a couple of years, I knew you’d moved here also because your name has become practically synonymous with the revitalization effort. Passion is big enough that there’s been no reason for our paths to cross. Until now. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it did.”

“You’re sorry?” I threw my hands in the air. “You have a lot to be fucking sorry about, don’t you? That’s all that exists between us, but ‘I’m sorry” doesn’t come close to fixing this.”

His eyes filled with remorse. “No, it doesn’t.” His lack of excuses cooled some of my anger.

“Does my mother know?”

“She asked me not to contact her. Out of respect for her, I haven’t. So, no, I don’t think she does.”

“Respect?” I sneered and turned my back.

“Whatever else you believe, I did love your mother. I couldn’t repair the damage, so I did the only thing I could. I moved away and tried to rebuild my life. Our lives.”

“And Mallory?” I spoke over my shoulder. “What happened to her? My mother kept your secret, so your daughter wouldn’t lose both of her parents, but sometimes I wonder if that was a mistake.”

He flinched. Good.

I’d hoped that would be a conversation ender, but no, he seemed determined to talk. “I found an inpatient program in the Midwest that had a good reputation. It was difficult being separated, but I knew it was for the best.”

“And afterward?” I pressed. I’m not sure why I cared; I think I hoped some kind of justice had prevailed.

“Things were good for a while. But after a couple of years, she spiraled downward. I don’t think she ever got over what happened. She got caught up in some group, became addicted to drugs, and every effort I made to reach her and get her help failed. She was an adult by then, so I had fewer resources. But I never quit trying.”

He blinked rapidly. “One day I got a call from the police. She was dead from an overdose.” His voice choked. “I had to go to the mortuary to identify her. I almost didn’t recognize her—my beautiful baby girl. I’d failed to protect her, over and over again.”

I fell back into the chair. My stomach churned. I’d lived with nightmares and guilt for so many years; I’d always hoped they did, too. Now that I knew they had, I found it didn’t make me feel any better. Not worse, but not better either.

“So that’s why you’re trying to establish the teen center, complete with counseling. Because she was an addict.”

Gene nodded. “That, and because she’d been through so much as a child as well. I learned a lot during our time out west. If I can help even just one kid, keep one teen and their parent from experiencing what she did, what you did, it’s a start. I know it sounds cliché. It doesn’t make it any less true. You and Mallory—you’re my motivation.”

I snorted. “Still using me, huh?”

“Not you, but our shared memory.” He blew out a long breath. “Jaxson, you can believe me or not, but I never meant to hurt you—then or now. I can’t change what happened. But I’m hoping I can influence your future when I tell you—"

I stood and took a step toward him. “Oh, you’ve already influenced my future more than enough, thank you. Do you know how many times as a young boy I thought about hurting myself? How many nightmares I have so I can’t sleep? How much guilt my mother has had to live with and how much she sacrificed because of what happened? How I can’t even tell Grace that I love her because that word was used as a weapon over and over?”

He hung his head, looking like the broken man I wanted him to be. Feeling hardened, I crossed my arms. Why should I be the only one who suffered over the years?

“I guess I don’t blame you for still being angry. I’d just hoped we could talk, man to man. I can stand here and tell you I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face, and I know it will never be enough. I’m not here to make excuses. I’m sorry our paths crossed again. It was never my intention. I don’t want to take more from you than has already been taken.”

I snorted. “And yet, I seem to be on the losing end once again. I got the building, but I lost the girl.”

“Losing the girl is on you, not me.”

He had balls. “How do you figure? If you had just stayed out west, our paths would have never crossed. We’d have never been in competition, and Grace would have never chosen you over me. So here we are. We’re even. My mother chose me. Grace chose you.”

Gene shook his head. “Is that how you really see it?”

“It’s the way it is.”

"Don’t be such a fool.” I was caught off guard by the anger in his voice. “Grace loves you. She's devastated at having hurt you. I won't stand here and pretend to understand all you've been through, how you overcame it, the battles you must still fight, but if you'll allow any fatherly advice, hear this. If you say the past shaped your life, warped it in some way, I beg you to consider how knowing Grace has shaped it. Has she tried to mold you like a piece of clay into what she wants, or has she been the iron to your steel, giving you strength to be the fine man you are? A woman, the right woman, will be that for you. I don't know if that's Grace or not, but I suspect she is. And trust me, that's not easy to find."

His words hit me hard, but fuck if I wanted him to know it. "I know you and Grace are close, but that doesn't change that she chose her cause over me."

Disappointment flicked across his face. I shouldn't care, but I found myself responding to it.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Jax. Most of all, I'm sorry the past made it so you can't think of anyone but yourself. If you choose to let the past keep influencing you, so be it. But this time, you can only blame yourself.”

Stunned into silence, I could only watch as he turned on his heel and left the building.