“Don’t know him to hate him. I just know he bounced. And now I’m supposed to square that man with the one you describe as a great father?”
“I’m sorry.” He hangs his head like he’s carrying shame that doesn’t belong to him.
“That’s not on you, Damon. It’s on him.”
“I know.” He lifts his eyes. “It was wrong. He… didn’t know how to face it. So he didn’t.”
My jaw muscle ticks, molars grinding. Lot presses her fingers gently into my thigh. Enough to stop me from going off the rails. “That’s some coward-ass shit.”
Damon nods. “He never wanted me to know about it because he was ashamed. It eats at him. The guilt. I get that doesn’t mean anything to you. I’m not here to defend him. I’m here for me. I needed to see you for myself.”
“You’ve seen me now. So, what are you expecting?”
He shrugs. “I just wanna… know you. Stay in touch. Maybe visit sometimes. But you don’t owe me that. Or anything.”
Christ. I lean back and stare out the window. Cars pass. People walk by. Life flows like nothing’s changed, while mine’sjust been knocked sideways. The boyish hope in his voice cuts deep. I don’t know what I can give him. But none of this is his fault.
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” I say finally. “We both showed up today. That’s something. You seem like a good kid. We can talk again.”
His chest lifts, like I just gave him oxygen. “I can call and text you?”
“Yeah, but not from a burner phone.”
He nods, sheepish. “Got rid of it.”
“Good.” I rise and offer my hand again. But the kid goes in for a hug.
I hesitate, then bring my arms around him.
“Thanks for coming,” he says as I pull back. “Drive safe. Bye, Lot.”
“Bye, Damon. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too.” He slings his bag over his shoulder, then pauses at the door, giving me a wave and that familiar gap-toothed grin.
I lift my chin in return. Then he’s gone.
We leave too and cross to the car. I slide into the driver’s seat, but don’t start the engine or reach for the wheel.
“Want me to drive?” Lot asks.
“No. Just give me a minute.”
“Take as many as you need. No rush.”
I lean back, head against the rest. Sunlight spills through the sunroof, too damn bright. I close my eyes and feel Lot’s hand slip into mine. She knows how to do quiet in a way that speaks volumes. No probing. No filler. Just presence. Like all those years ago, when I showed up in her tent or she found me there.
“Didn’t expect to feel anything,” I say when I’m ready. “Curiosity, yeah. But I thought I’d be indifferent, even though he didn’t deserve that.”
Her thumb strokes across my knuckles. “You were holding grief and shock and confusion, but you still made space for him. That says everything about the kind of man you are.”
I open my eyes and look at her. Eyes like warm flecks of amber, green, and brown. Tiny freckles on her nose. A mouth I’ve kissed a hundred different ways. A face that pounds my heart, even as it steadies me.
“He’s polite,” I say. “Levelheaded. Sincere. I liked him.”
“Me too. I was skeptical at first. He was so nervous, but that just made him real. His smile… the way he talks with his hands reminded me of you. No doubt he’s your brother.”
“That word still doesn’t sit right in my head.” I blow out a breath. “It was wild seeing pieces of myself in him. That’s gonna take time to get used to. But I can tell he was raised right by two parents who cared. I’m glad for him. But damn…” I shake my head. “Why couldn’t the old man have given me that too?”
