Puppy Love Page 8

  I let out a huff. “It’s so complicated between us. I know what he did to me was horrible. No father should disown his son just because he’s not the sexuality he’d prefer. What he did was fucked up and I should’ve written him off years ago. But the truth is, I didn’t write him off. I always held onto the hope that he was going to come around and have a relationship with me one day.”

  “And now you can’t have that relationship.” Noah rubbed my back softly.

  “Never. We are never going to be able to mend what is broken between us. He’s lost his mind. We are never going to get to discuss what happened. The relationship between me and my father is broken forever.”

  “Oh, Charlie, babe,” Noah said softly. “I know you’re never going to be able to repair the relationship like you want to. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. But one thing is very obvious to me.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” I asked.

  “That you love your father. Whatever happened between you, you have love for him. And he doesn’t have a lot of time left. I don’t think you’re going to be able to forgive yourself if you don’t see him while you can. It may not be the resolution you want, but you can’t let your fear keep you from seeing him again.”

  “You’re right.” I shook my head defeatedly. “You’re absolutely right.”

  So I didn’t.

  The very next day, I went to the care home where my father was staying. This time, I was determined to wake him up and actually have a conversation with him while I still could.

  I didn’t have to wake him up, though. When I walked into his room, he was already sitting up in his bed.

  His head jerked to me when he heard the door open. I’d never seen him so on edge before.

  Obviously I’d seen him in many mentally unstable states after my mother passed. But I never saw him anxious or agitated. Although, maybe that was because he drowned out his feelings with whisky.

  “I didn’t ask you to be here today,” he said suddenly.

  “I know,” I answered. “I came here on my own.”

  “We don’t even have mail coming today. It’s Sunday and there’s no mail on Sundays. So why are you here?”

  God damn, he was so far gone.

  I knew the doctor told me that when I saw him I should play along with his narrative, but right now, I couldn’t. I had to do everything I could to make him remember who I was. That was the only way I was going to get closure here… If I felt like me and my father really had a conversation.

  I knew it was still going to be a jumbled mess of a conversation, of course. It wasn’t going to be the conversation I wanted to have. But if I could at least get him to realize who I was, then I’d feel okay about that.

  Even that would be a long shot, though.

  “Hi, Dad, it’s me.”

  “Why are you saying that?” he barked back as I sat down on the chair next to his bed.

  “Why am I saying what?”

  “You’re calling me Dad.”

  “Yeah, because you’re my father.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be twenty-seven soon,” I told him.

  “No! You aren’t my son.”

  “And why do you say that?” I asked, though of course, it would be impossible to reason with him.

  “My son is not twenty-seven.”

  “No? How old is he?”

  “He’ll be nineteen in August,” he said with conviction.

  Well, at least he got my birthday right. That had to count for something.

  “Oh, nineteen is a tough age. Are you going to do anything to celebrate with him?”

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t seen him.”

  This made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. So not only did he think I was nineteen, but he actually remembered what situation we were in at that age? It was almost like I had just gone back in time.

  So maybe this actually would work. Maybe if he was stuck in that time, we could actually have a conversation about it.

  “What do you mean you haven’t seen him?” I asked.

  “For almost a year, I haven’t seen him. He doesn’t live with me anymore. Nobody lives with me anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Does that make you feel lonely?” Now I was doing exactly what the doctor instructed and followed his narrative.

  “I’m lonely. I’m so very lonely. I miss my wife. My wife was so beautiful… She was my everything.” He frowned for a minute before giving a small laugh. “I loved her from our very first date when she spilled her soda all over my white, clean shirt.”

  I remembered that story about their first date. A twinge of nostalgia hit me as the memory of my mother telling that story came to me.

  “It sounds like she meant the world to you.”

  “She did. She was everything. We used to be so happy. We once had everything.”

  “What do you mean you had everything?”

  He was surprisingly answering my questions pretty accurately.

  “We had a family. She always wanted to have children. It was hard to conceive, and she was so sad about that for so long. But her life changed when we had little Charlie. She loved him so much, and so did I. I loved them both.”

  “Sounds like you had a happy little family.”

  “We did, for so long. We were all so happy. And then she died and everything fell apart. Now I have no family. I’m alone.”

  “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be like that,” I said encouragingly. “I know your wife is gone and nothing can fix that. But maybe you could still have a relationship with your son.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “My son is gone. My son has left.”

  “Maybe he’ll come back. You can fix your relationship with him.”

  “No. There is no fixing it.”

  I was feeling myself getting more eager. I felt like I really was able to get the information I had wanted so long ago.

  “You don’t know that! What would you say to him if he were here?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t say anything to him? But… But you just said you’re lonely. That you wanted your family back.”

  “I know that! You are so stupid! You can’t get everything you want. I want my family! But my wife is dead and my son is a fag!”

  There it was. And it stung just as much as it did eight years ago.

  “He’s still your son!” I argued back. “You’re supposed to love him no matter what. If you could just get over your outdated homophobia, you wouldn’t have to feel lonely. You could have part of your family.”

  “There is no room in my family for fags! Why are you saying that? Do not defend him! Are you a fag?!”

  “Yes!” I yelled loudly. “Yes, I fucking am. What are you going to do about it?”

  He shrunk back, his facial expression completely changed.

  “Why are you yelling at me?” he said in a whiny voice. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?”

  “What? No!”

  “I know I was wrong. I will replant the tree. I will never drink another drop, I promise, if you don’t press charges. Someone needs to go home and feed my dog. I can’t stay here all night.”

  Fantastic, now he was back to having completely lost it. There was no getting through to him now, so I might as well say what I wanted.

  “I’m not a fucking cop, though great, sounds like you got plenty more DUIs after I left. I’m your fucking son! The son you abandoned!”

  “I don’t have kids!” he shot back.

  “You do! But you shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t. Maybe you shouldn’t bring children into the world if you’re not willing to love them forever. Did you ever consider that when you were trying to get pregnant? Or was that just something you did to please Mom? Hell, maybe loving me was just an act you put on to please Mom, even! And then after she died, you didn’t need to play the doting father anymore.”

  He just stared on, clearly c
onfused.

  “You know what? I’m not coming back. I don’t care if you’re sick. Even sick, you’re an asshole. You were a horrible person to me, you know that? I owe you nothing. I’ll pay for this place, I’ll get your affairs in order, I’ll do the bare minimum for you because you at least took care of me growing up. But I don’t have to see you.”

  “Nobody ever sees me.” He looked up at the ceiling.

  For a second, I almost felt a twinge of guilt, but the word fag was still ringing in my ears. It was enough for me to not care how he felt.

  “And nobody ever will. Because you’re an asshole.”

  Unexpectedly, he began to cry. And not just slightly, but sobbing into his hands.

  I didn’t care. I walked out anyway. I didn’t even bother telling a nurse how upset he was. They’d find out soon enough, and the few minutes of tears didn’t even begin to touch the years of pain he inflicted on me.

  What I said was true. He was horrible to me. Not always, not when I was little, but as an adult, he abandoned me. He completely forgot I existed. He never tried to reach out, and now I saw that he never would.

  Kicking me out wasn’t just a knee jerk, shocked reaction like I used to try to believe. It was how he really felt. He didn’t love me anymore because I loved men.

  But that was fine. It wasn’t as if things were going to get better between us, anyway. Now, I felt more vengeful than anything.

  And I was going to get my revenge in the most satisfying way possible. I was going to keep loving my man, vehemently. I was going to go see my boyfriend right now so that he could comfort me. And I was going to imagine how enraged my father would be if he ever saw me in Noah’s arms.

  11

  Noah

  Months had passed and my relationship with Charlie was just as good as ever.

  I thought that after time together, my feelings would ease up a little. There was always that honeymoon stage in the beginning of a new relationship, of course.

  They didn’t ease up, though. They only intensified the more we got to know each other. Our relationship got especially intense after I asked him to be my boyfriend and he finally opened up to me about his father.

  Although, I did feel a little guilty about the advice I gave him to go see his father. The visit didn’t exactly go well and he was devastated after.

  He’d been a little needier since then, but I understood. And I didn’t mind giving him more attention. I loved spending time with him.

  He was still lying in bed when I got up this morning. He spent every single day at my house now, not even bothering to go home. We had unofficially moved in together.

  I didn’t want to wake him so I got up very quietly to put on my uniform and prepare to leave for work. Apparently not quiet enough, though.

  Charlie groaned as he rolled over in bed. “Are you leaving already?” he asked me.

  “Yeah, babe, it’s seven. I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh!” he moaned. “But I don’t want you to go.”

  I sat down on the bed next to him, putting his hand in mine.

  “I’m sorry, babe, but I’ll be home tonight.”

  “Tonight isn’t good enough,” he whined. “Can’t you just call in today?”

  “Babe, it’s way too late for me to call in. I’m supposed to be clocked in in just twenty minutes.”

  He frowned. “But I’m feeling shitty.”

  “Shitty like what? Like you’re sick?”

  “No… Just, you know, emotionally shitty.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get home.”

  He sighed as I stood up. “I understand this is your job and this is what you have to do, but the long, crazy hours really are starting to wear on me,” he said.

  I knew they were. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this fight. I knew damn well how he felt, but what could I do?

  I didn’t feel as passionate about my job as I did about Charlie, but it was still a very important part of my life. I didn’t want to give it up and I didn’t see why I had to.

  “I’m sorry. Really, I swear tonight will be great. I’ll grab take out on the way home.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged, still clearly upset.

  I kissed the top of his head. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

  He nodded and rolled over in bed.

  I lingered in the doorway, staring at him crumpled on the bed. It honestly broke my heart to walk away right now. I knew how sad he was.

  He spent a lot of time in bed lately. He wasn’t even writing, even though I encouraged him to every day. He said he didn’t have the energy and I believed it.

  On my way to work, I did my best to brainstorm ways I could make this up to him. I felt like a shitty boyfriend, leaving the love of my life completely depressed without doing anything about it.

  Not that I could fix his depression. I knew he was grieving the loss of his relationship with his father. Nothing was going to change that. Only time would heal the wounds.

  At least I knew he had Bailey at home with him. She was such a sweetheart. She seemed completely in tune to both Charlie’s and my emotions.

  Whenever either of us seemed sad or frustrated, she jumped into our laps without us even calling out to her. Besides me, I thought she was the only thing that cheered Charlie up.

  Still, it didn’t seem like enough. Not today, at least. I didn’t know why he was so upset, but I knew it was worse than usual.

  Then, in the middle of my very slow shift, an idea came to me.

  I was just patrolling the streets anyway, so I decided I’d go ahead and roll down our street.

  I pulled into our driveway and shot a quick text to Charlie.

  “Come outside.”

  He was out within a minute, still in his pajamas, a grin spread across his face.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked excitedly as he got into the passenger seat.

  “I was having a slow day, so I thought I’d visit. I know how badly you wanted some company.”

  “Oh, babe!” He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “That was so sweet, thank you.”

  “No problem. I can’t hang out too long, though.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding, “but just the fact that you stopped by to check on me… That means a lot.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I ran my fingers through his hair. He did look genuinely happier now that I had come by.

  His eyes were drifting around my car. “Wow, I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve ever been here.”

  “How does it feel?” I asked him.

  “Weird.” He smiled. “You know… There’s something I always wanted to do in one of these.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “What’s that?”

  He gave a cheeky smile and then slowly started sliding his pajama pants down.

  “Charlie!” I chastised. “We’re in public in broad daylight.”

  “Oh, come on,” he pushed. “You know all your neighbors are at work. Nobody will catch us. We’ll keep most of our clothes on, anyway. Even if they saw us through the window, we’d have our shirts on and stuff.”

  “I don’t know…” I said hesitantly.

  “Are you telling me you don’t think it would be incredibly hot to fuck in your patrol car? While you’re still in uniform?” He ran his hand down my chest. “Because I think it would be.”

  So did I. “Okay, fine,” I acquiesced. “But we’ve got to be quick about it!”

  “That I can do,” he said as he slid his pants off and crawled up to straddle me.

  He gently reached for my gun holster and unhooked it from my pants, placing it carefully on the back seat.

  “Safety first,” he said. He grinned as he reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a little packet of lube.”

  “Wait!” I said quickly. “You brought that out here with you?!”

  “I did.” He smiled.

  “You planned for this to happen?”

  “Oh, absolutely
. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time.”

  He reached down to my pants. He didn’t try to take them off completely. Instead, he unzipped them and pulled my cock through the now open hole.

  I was already rock hard. Just talking about fucking in my squad car was enough to get me horny.

  Well, to be honest, just talking about sex at all with Charlie generally got me horny. We had sex pretty frequently, and I had to say, it beat any sex I ever had with a woman.

  He opened the small packet of lube and began to rub my cock down with it. Slowly, he used the tip of his finger to make small circles around the head of my cock before rolling the liquid all the way down my shaft.

  This alone was pleasure enough. He did nothing but continue to run his hand up and down my thick cock. That would be enough to get me to cum for him. He had the perfect touch. Just tight enough without squeezing too hard, but enough to easily slide the skin of my dick up and down. He touched me in the way only a man knew how.

  But of course, he didn’t just sit there and rub my cock, because he wanted pleasure just as badly as me. As he continued to rub me down, I took the packet of lube from his other hand and lathered it up on mine before reaching around to his bare butt to wet him.

  He let out gentle moans as my finger probed him with the lube, reaching as deep as I could to get him completely prepared for my massive prick’s entrance.

  It was too much for both of us. By the time we were done preparing, we were both ready to fuck.

  He inched up on my waist, grabbing my prick with one hand and slowly lowering himself down onto me.

  I groaned when the tip of my cock reached his entrance. Slowly, his hole began to engulf me and my cock was surrounded with the warm pressure of his ass.

  He wasn’t usually the one on top of me. Generally, I took control when we had sex. I liked to lay him down, hold his arms over his head, and pound away at his tight ass. I liked taking him roughly and so did he.

  But this was actually a nice change of pace. It felt so fucking good to lay back while he doled out pleasure onto me for once.

  Slowly, he began to bounce his ass on top of my cock. I could feel my prick swelling with each thrust. As he began to quicken his speed, it was almost more than I could take.