diet and get healthy or they won’t clear you to return to work.”
“I don’t need them to clear me.” Grumbling, he pushed himself up on the bed. “Hell, most of the time I’m talking into a headset, anyway. Not a lot of strenuous physical activity involved there.”
“Keywords being ‘most of the time.’ I seem to recall three years ago, you got close enough to a perpetrator that you dropped said headset and wrestled him to the ground. Jog any memories?”
Jack looked at her in silence for a moment. “Sure, I remember. Ex-Army Ranger suffering from PTSD barricaded himself inside a church in Staten Island. The question is, how do you know about it? I doubt it made the news in San Diego.”
Actually , she’d been following Jack’s career most of her life. In addition to writing a best-selling memoir about life as an NYPD hostage negotiator, which she’d read cover to cover, not a month went by that he wasn’t mentioned somewhere in the news. Oftentimes, it felt as though technology was the glue holding her relationship with her father together. No need to fill him in on that minor detail, however. She forced herself to nod. “I might have checked in on you once or twice. You know, we have this fancy new invention called the Internet. Makes it pretty easy.”
Jack snorted a laugh, looking down at his hands. “I might not have been around while you grew up, but I sure managed to pass on the smart-ass gene.” He turned serious then, somber eyes meeting hers across the room. “I’m sorry. About the way things worked out.”
Uncomfortable with his apology, she stood and paced to the window. She hadn’t intended to have this conversation, but now that it seemed unavoidable, she needed to give voice to the question that had always haunted her.
“Why did you stop coming to visit?”
Having been so young when her parents got divorced, she barely recalled the time they’d lived together in one house, as a family. When she’d grown slightly older, she could remember Jack flying to California once a year, usually around her birthday. He would take her to the beach, buy her something, ask about school. She’d looked forward to it with joyful anticipation. Then one year, he’d stopped coming. Lynette explained countless times how busy Jack was in New York and she’d tried to be happy with his phone calls on Christmas, but she always wondered if she’d caused his absence.
Jack blew out a breath. “Well, Story. I honestly don’t have a good enough answer for you. Not that I haven’t had ample time to prepare one.” He lifted a hand and let it fall. “You were so young. Every time I came and left, it confused you further. Once I missed one year, it just never felt right going back.”
“I would have understood eventually.” Story still didn’t face him. “And a few more phone calls or e-mails per year wouldn’t have hurt either.”
“I know that and I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to be involved…in other ways.”
“I guess I should thank you for the money you sent,” she said, feeling kind of numb. “I don’t think I have before.”
“Jesus, you don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.” His tone of voice made her turn from the window. “Your mother and I might not have worked out, but I would marry her all over again, deal with all the arguments, to get you. I just want you to know that.”
Her throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”
Jack cleared his throat, signaling an end to the conversation, and she felt grateful. Her emotions were on a permanent roller coaster today and it was time to get off.
“So how did you spend your night last night?”
Roller coaster stalled, hanging upside down. “Uh, my friend Hayden and I went out for drinks, did some karaoke at Quincy’s like you recommended. Nothing crazy.”
“Karaoke.” Jack cringed. “What a godawful pastime.”
Story laughed, glad the mood had shifted back to normal. “See, right now in the
“I don’t need them to clear me.” Grumbling, he pushed himself up on the bed. “Hell, most of the time I’m talking into a headset, anyway. Not a lot of strenuous physical activity involved there.”
“Keywords being ‘most of the time.’ I seem to recall three years ago, you got close enough to a perpetrator that you dropped said headset and wrestled him to the ground. Jog any memories?”
Jack looked at her in silence for a moment. “Sure, I remember. Ex-Army Ranger suffering from PTSD barricaded himself inside a church in Staten Island. The question is, how do you know about it? I doubt it made the news in San Diego.”
Actually , she’d been following Jack’s career most of her life. In addition to writing a best-selling memoir about life as an NYPD hostage negotiator, which she’d read cover to cover, not a month went by that he wasn’t mentioned somewhere in the news. Oftentimes, it felt as though technology was the glue holding her relationship with her father together. No need to fill him in on that minor detail, however. She forced herself to nod. “I might have checked in on you once or twice. You know, we have this fancy new invention called the Internet. Makes it pretty easy.”
Jack snorted a laugh, looking down at his hands. “I might not have been around while you grew up, but I sure managed to pass on the smart-ass gene.” He turned serious then, somber eyes meeting hers across the room. “I’m sorry. About the way things worked out.”
Uncomfortable with his apology, she stood and paced to the window. She hadn’t intended to have this conversation, but now that it seemed unavoidable, she needed to give voice to the question that had always haunted her.
“Why did you stop coming to visit?”
Having been so young when her parents got divorced, she barely recalled the time they’d lived together in one house, as a family. When she’d grown slightly older, she could remember Jack flying to California once a year, usually around her birthday. He would take her to the beach, buy her something, ask about school. She’d looked forward to it with joyful anticipation. Then one year, he’d stopped coming. Lynette explained countless times how busy Jack was in New York and she’d tried to be happy with his phone calls on Christmas, but she always wondered if she’d caused his absence.
Jack blew out a breath. “Well, Story. I honestly don’t have a good enough answer for you. Not that I haven’t had ample time to prepare one.” He lifted a hand and let it fall. “You were so young. Every time I came and left, it confused you further. Once I missed one year, it just never felt right going back.”
“I would have understood eventually.” Story still didn’t face him. “And a few more phone calls or e-mails per year wouldn’t have hurt either.”
“I know that and I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to be involved…in other ways.”
“I guess I should thank you for the money you sent,” she said, feeling kind of numb. “I don’t think I have before.”
“Jesus, you don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.” His tone of voice made her turn from the window. “Your mother and I might not have worked out, but I would marry her all over again, deal with all the arguments, to get you. I just want you to know that.”
Her throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”
Jack cleared his throat, signaling an end to the conversation, and she felt grateful. Her emotions were on a permanent roller coaster today and it was time to get off.
“So how did you spend your night last night?”
Roller coaster stalled, hanging upside down. “Uh, my friend Hayden and I went out for drinks, did some karaoke at Quincy’s like you recommended. Nothing crazy.”
“Karaoke.” Jack cringed. “What a godawful pastime.”
Story laughed, glad the mood had shifted back to normal. “See, right now in the
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