A Brand New Ending (Page 62)

Old anger stirred. “No, you didn’t,” Kyle said coldly. “Other than an occasional slap or the reminder I killed my mother, you weren’t into interacting with me.”

Patrick flinched but kept his gaze direct, not trying to hide. “Yeah. I gotta live with that. With the shame over the fact that your mother loved you so much she wanted you to live, yet I disrespected her greatest gift of all. You.” He let out a sigh that was so weary it was like an arrow through Kyle’s chest. “I’m sorry, son. Not that it means anything now, but I am.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Kyle waited, not knowing what he really wanted from this little visit.

Patrick cleared his throat. “Umm, want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

He petted the dog and watched his father work the coffeepot. “How do you take it?” Patrick asked.

Kyle ignored the shred of pain.

His father truly knew nothing about him. There was something about a parent knowing a child’s food and drink choices that created a special bond. Stupid, but he couldn’t help it.

“A little sugar.”

He gazed around his childhood home, noting the familiar furniture, scarred wooden floors, and the same paintings on the wall. Nothing much had changed, except now the place was neatly kept and a dog bed lay in the corner, along with food and water bowls.

He noticed the framed pictures on the oak tables. Him in his graduation robe from high school. Him at his first Communion. Him at a football game, grinning widely. Him with Ophelia and Ethan in front of Bea’s Diner, hamming it up for the camera. All taken by friends. None taken by his father.

He’d barely recognized the most important moments in Kyle’s life.

He’d tried to tell his father about taking off to California, but Patrick had been drunk again and hadn’t cared. Kyle just packed his shit and left without another word. It had been up to Ophelia’s mom to come over and explain what they’d done after they were gone. The jab had felt good, especially since he knew his dad had needed his help with the farm.

Patrick came in with the coffee. Kyle got up and took a seat at the battered dining room table. Charlie padded over and sat next to his father.

“Place looks clean,” Kyle said.

“Ophelia helps me out once in a while,” he admitted.

“And she took care of you when you got sick.”

“She’s good to me. Like her mother was.”

He couldn’t help the sharp edge to his voice. “Don’t take advantage of her. She cares about people in a way I’ve never seen before—people who don’t even deserve it. She makes the world a better place.”

Patrick didn’t even flinch. Just nodded. “I won’t. You still love her, huh?”

Kyle stretched his legs out and tapped the table. “Yeah.” They sat in silence for a while. “I married her, you know.”

His father stared at him in shock. “You got married?”

“Back in California. When we ran away.”

“You were only eighteen.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t matter. It didn’t work out, so she came back here. Now we’re back together.”

Patrick studied his face. “That’s good. Always sensed you were meant for each other. You gonna stay?”

Kyle tried not to wince as he took a sip of his coffee. “I have to get back to Hollywood to pitch a new screenplay. But I plan on coming back.”

His father seemed to light up. “Yeah? Another like Conspiracy? That was good.”

“You saw it?”

“Hell yeah. I’ve seen all your movies. I take a picture on my cell phone when the credits roll and your name is shown. See?” He rose and walked over to the coffee table, grabbing a trio of small, framed pictures Kyle hadn’t spotted before. “Printed them out and framed them myself.”

Kyle stared at them, his name in big print various times, clad in cheap silver frames. Emotion choked his throat. “I didn’t know you even knew what I did.”

Patrick sat back down, hands on his knees. “Because I’m an asshole. I get it. But even before I finally stopped drinking, I was proud of you. I think leaving me was the best thing you ever did for yourself. I ended up letting the farm go to hell, drinking myself into almost nothing, and I became the town drunk. If you had stuck around, I would’ve ruined more of your life.”

He sat in silence for a bit. “I ran into your sponsor in town. Tony.”

“Yeah? Tony’s helped me a lot.” He watched in shock as Patrick’s eyes filled with shame. “Did he try to guilt you into coming to see me?”

Kyle shrugged. “Not really. Just said you’d changed.” He ran his thumb around the corners of the frame, turning it around in his hands. “I came here because Ophelia asked me to see you. I’m doing this for her.”

Patrick nodded. “Makes sense. I’m glad you found her again. You deserve some happiness. God knows you had none as a kid. God knows what I did is unforgivable, but I’m saying I’m sorry anyway.”

Kyle looked him straight in the face. “I hated your guts. I wished you were dead.”

Grief touched his father’s green eyes. “I know. Did you look in the box I sent over?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I couldn’t.”

“Maybe you’ll open it one day.”

“Maybe.” Kyle took another sip of coffee and stood. “I gotta go.” He patted the dog’s head, turned, and headed toward the door.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for seeing me.”

He couldn’t answer, so he just nodded and left.

He headed into town, stopping at the Market to fill up on some appetizers for the March Madness crew, and tried not to think about the conversation with his father. He was just pulling back into the inn when his cell rang. It was his agent.

“Robbie. Been wondering when you were going to call with some news.”

“I finally have some, but it depends on how fast you can get me the script.”

His gut lurched. “What do you mean?”

“Alan Bell said he may be interested. I told him this was a script no one else had seen yet, and it was going to rock the industry.”

Kyle winced at his agent’s normal dramatics, but the mention of Bell made his breath stop. The hot new director storming Tinseltown was known for his Academy Award nominees and a talent for hitting the audience with tearjerkers. “Are you fucking kidding me? Bell would give it a read?”

“Only if you can get me the script ASAP. He’ll be out of the country for the next few weeks, so if you want him, we need to schedule the meeting for Tuesday. How close are you to wrapping up?”

“Close.”

“Then get it done so I can send it to the team in the next day or two. Who the hell knows if Bell will still be interested after returning from overseas? You know how hard it is to keep the attention of directors of his caliber, or even score a meeting at all. You in?”

No.

He wanted more time here. He wasn’t ready to leave her yet.

But this opportunity needed to be grabbed. “Yes, I’m in. I’ll get it done. Thanks, Robbie.” They exchanged goodbyes, and he clicked the phone off.

Kyle wanted these last few weeks with Ophelia, uninterrupted. But if he could sell the script early and nail down the project of his dreams with the director of his dreams, he needed to give his all.