“Yep.”
“Press or worse?”
“Press.” I keep my voice low. “Filepe had a little talk with them already.”
He frowns. “And they’re still here?”
I shrug. “Public property, unfortunately.”
I get a ping text.Ben is coming out. Running interference.
Filepe drives the second Range Rover out onto the street, and parks directly in front of the unmarked sedan, hemming the vehicle in, and blocking the driver’s view to the door.
Jess escorts Ben outside to the vehicle.We get my daughter loaded into her car seat. She’s chattering about Frederick and snail shells and whether pizza dough dreams.
Then we close the door behind Ben. Jess gives Ethan a hug, and I stand there speechlessly, wishing I was the one getting the hug. Wishing I could wrap that beautiful—
Concentrate.
Afterward, Jess gives me a curt nod, then dashes back inside.
Ethan leans against the vehicle. Looks at me with that serious expression he gets when he’s about to say something that matters. Or maybe he’s just going to tell me to keep my hands off his sister again.
“You’re a good dad,” he says quietly.
The words land harder than they should.
Because I don’t feel like a good dad most days. I feel like I’m barely holding it together. Like one wrong move and the whole thing collapses.
But I just nod. “Thanks.”
“I mean it.” He straightens. “Ben’s lucky to have you.”
Then he’s gone. Heading back toward his vehicle. Leaving me standing there with his words rattling around in my skull.
You’re a good dad.
Am I though?
A good dad wouldn’t have wanted someone else while his wife was alive. A good dad wouldn’t have hired a private investigator to track a woman he met once in Vegas. A good dad wouldn’t be planning a hunting trip partly because he wants to prove something to himself.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe being a good dad isn’t about being perfect.
Maybe it’s about showing up.
Making the hard calls.
Teaching your kid that the world is big and scary and beautiful and you don’t have to hide from it.
We pull away from the curb. Jag drives. Filepe keeps the sedan hemmed in until we’re gone.
And I sit in the back watching Ben count things out the window. Taxis. Dogs. People in red coats.
My kid.
My responsibility.
