“I wasn’t sure you’d call.”
“I wasn’t sure either.”
“It’s good to hear from you.”
I got nothing to say to that.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for being so kind to Damon.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know. But I appreciate it all the same.”
I lean forward, staring into my cup. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Maybe some clarity. Maybe nothing. You raised one son and left the other. Don’t know what kind of man that makes you. But it’s fucked up.”
“You’re right,” he says, the words traveling on a heavy breath. “I’m not proud of it, and I won’t make excuses. But I owe you answers. I’d like to see you. In person. I can come there.”
Bayside? My town. The place where he left me. No. “We can meet in Chicago.”
“Anywhere you want. I can fly out tomorrow.”
That soon? I rub my jaw. Might as well get it over with. “All right. Text me the time. We can meet at the Hilton connected to the airport.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dyson.”
I don’t like my name in his mouth, but there it is. Steady and even.
Me, on the other hand, I’m jittery as hell. Like I’ve had too much espresso when I haven’t even finished my first cup. I hang up and pace, needing to move. But more than that… I need Lot.
I FaceTime her. One ring and she picks up. Hair in a lopsided pineapple, face so beautiful it makes my chest hurt.
“How’s my queen?”
“Missing her king.”
I grin but she peeps right through it. “Did you call him?”
“Yeah.”
Her expression is layered—worry, curiosity, support. “How do you feel?”
“Confused.” I scrub my hand over my face. “He was… composed. Sounds like one of those together brothers. Not a deadbeat. Grateful I was receptive to Damon. Not defensive when I called him out. Wasn’t expecting him to be so… fucking nice. It was easier to think of him as an asshole. I don’t know what to do with that.” I pace the living room.
“You don’t have to do anything with it,” she says softly. “Both things can be true. He was an asshole for leaving you. But he could be a better person now. That doesn’t mean you can’t be mad just ’cause he seemed nice. Feel what you feel.”
“Thanks, baby. Head’s all over the place. We’re meeting in Chicago tomorrow.”
“Wow.” She’s already moving, grabbing something off-screen. “Let me check flights.What time?”
“I got this, Web.”
She stops, peers deep into the screen. “You don’t want me there?”
I hear the hurt, the concern that I’m taking steps back.
“This isn’t me not leaning,” I tell her. “I know you have my back wherever you are. But I gotta walk in on my own stead and face this man.”
Lot nods, understanding. “Do it the way you need to. Just make sure you’re doing it for you and not because of my father pushing before you’re ready. He overstepped.”
