The front door is a bright red. Is that a warning? A blaring sign from the universe that this is a bad idea? Maybe I’ll wish I had headed it, but I grip the handle and push.
It smells like fresh paint and plastic from the protective film on the floors. The lights are unusually bright, forcing me to squint for a moment.
I shut the door and stand in the entry way. From here, it’s a clear shot to the kitchen where a man stands, his back to me.
He hasn’t noticed me yet.
My heart rattles in my chest, feeling like it could jump into my throat and be vomited out at any moment.
That’s him.
Standing fifteen feet away.
He doesn’t need to turn around for me to know it.
I feel it in my bones. Taste it in the anger that surges. I push down.
He must feel my eyes on him because he finally glances over his shoulder, looking startled for a moment. When he turns, I wait to see if he’ll recognize me right away. Either from my career, or because he’s watched me from afar.
But there’s nothing on his face besides slight annoyance as he checks the watch on his wrist. He’s quick to paste on a watery smile as my feet walk me toward him.
“Welcome in,” he says, voice unlike anything I everimagined in my head. “I was just about to lock up, but I can let you have a peek if you’re interested.”
I extend my hand to meet his.
Mine’s shaking.
He doesn’t notice, his attention fixed on my face. Does he see himself? Features that seem like he’s looking in the mirror?
“Silas Shepard. Pleasure to meet you. Are you new to the area?”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Uh—” I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“Well, feel free to walk around a bit, get a feel for the space, and I’ll be here with any questions.” With that, he turns back to the kitchen island and shuffles some papers around.
I blink. My feet are frozen to the floor.
I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he should recognize me I guess, right? But still. Shouldn’t there be some sort of innate feeling in him that kicks in when he shakes hands with his own son?
It takes him a while to realize I haven’t moved. He gives me a strange look before saying, “Did you need me to show you around?”
“I actually do have a question,” I say, breaking out of my stupor.
He tucks his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks. They’re worn and shapeless.
No turning back now. “Do you remember Debbie Keely?”
My mother’s name echoes around the empty house, bouncing off the walls and tarnishing this nice home.
Silas keeps a neutral face, but his body goes rigid.
“I’m Reid,” I continue. “Reid Keely. Her son.”Your son.That gets caught in my throat, but he seems to fill in the blanks. I can tell by the way he eyes me up differently now. Not a potential home buyer, but his flesh and blood.
He notes my height, only an inch or two taller than him. One day, he might’ve been my height, but age has shrunken him.
My complexion is paler compared to his, but there’s still a hint of the dark brown shade of my hair buried in the gray of his own. I always assumed I got my eye color from my mother, but his are also a navy blue.
He doesn’t say anything as he looks his fill, coming to conclusions. I let him have the silence to process.
