“You didn’t have to come back here.”
“She’s your mother. Of course she wanted to come back.”
I look at my wrist support and close my eyes. “If you don’t care about me, what are you doing here? Is it all just for Mom?”
“Of course I care about you. I’ve raised you, haven’t I?”
“I was already practically raised when you met her.”
He scoffs. “Please. You were a kid. And even if you were already in high school, you were definitely still rough around the edges.”
“I’m not some fixer-upper you can pour money into until it looks how you want it to look.”
“Is that all you think I’ve done? Pour money into you?” He blows out a disbelieving laugh and leans back in his chair. “You might not believe it, but I care about you, Nathan. I care about you and your mother very much. I wouldn’t have married her or adopted you if I didn’t.”
“You’re not my real dad,” I mutter.
“No. Where is he?”
I drop my gaze from him.
“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” He sighs, running a hand over his face, his palm scratching on the stubble lining his jaw. This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen him unshaven. When I still lived with them, he’d even comedown to breakfast fully dressed and clean-shaven, even when he didn’t have to go to the office.
My voice is way smaller than I wanted it to be when I speak again. “Is Evan okay?”
His nostrils flare, but he’s calm when he replies.
“He’s still in the waiting room. I told him to leave. He refused until he could see you were okay.”
Something warms a little inside me.
“What is it about him that you can’t just turn your back on, Nathan?”
“What is it about my mom you can’t turn your back on? I’m sure I’ve caused you more trouble than you need, but you’re still here, for her.”
“And for you.”
“I love him.”
I look up to see his reaction. He swallows, blinking.
“Does that piss you off?”
“What?”
“That I’m bi?”
He snorts. “No. You have the wrong idea about me. It’s not his gender that bothers me and your mother, it’s the trouble he brings into your life.”
“But you know it was me who stole that car. How can you still blame him?”
“Have you been in any kind of trouble since you stopped seeing him? Until now, that is?”
I look down at my wrist in its splint. My voice is reedy when I answer. “That’s because I’ve had opportunities he hasn’t.”
“Don’t give me that. There are plenty of poor people who don’t commit crimes-”
“Don’t tell me about how you grew up with nothing again, I’m already inenough pain.”
