I cleared my throat. “Hisname is Kellen.”
After a long, long, long silence, Dad reached into his back pocket. He produced a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to his husband. “Keep the change.”
Troy kissed the bill, which was all kinds of gross, then shoved it into his jeans pocket.
This time, I tilted my head in question.
Dad shrugged. “He bet me that you’d hook up with a man. I figured it’d be when you came back to civilization. Because, frankly, how were you going to meet someone in the middle of fucking nowhere?” The words carried precisely zero heat.
I grinned. “Son of the owner?”
Troy’s eyes widened. “Kellen Parsons?”
My jaw dropped.
He waved me off. “A friend of mine went to the same school as he did. He mentioned that the kid always seemed to be getting into trouble in one way or another. Didn’t he just crash his father’s Lamborghini?”
“Uh…yes. But he’s super remorseful.” I squinted. “Shit. I didn’t give him my number.”
“And he didn’t give you his?” Troy handed me a charger.
I plugged in my phone. “Well, no. We were just so happy to have the power back on?—”
Dad held up his hand. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
So I did. Over dinner of spaghetti with meatballs in a bolognaise sauce—a favorite of mine—I took Dad and Troy through everything that happened.
Both remained silent as they digested my story. When I was finished, I dug into my food with renewed vigor.
Dad sighed. “You love him.”
“Yep, he does.” Troy had a shit-eating grin on his face. He held out his palm.
My father again retrieved his wallet. This time, he procured a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“Oh, I intend to.” Troy grinned—this time a bit mischievously. “I have plans for this cash.”
Dad rolled his eyes.
And I wondered, in that moment, if he hadn’t lost the bets on purpose. He was always trying to find ways to get Troy to take some of his money. Dad’s condo was paid for, he owned his pickup truck, and he made good money.
My phone buzzed.
I met Dad’s gaze.
He grinned. “Go see who it might be.”
I hated interrupting dinner, but I was damn curious. I leapt up from the table and headed to the kitchen. I picked up the phone and unlocked the screen.
—Where are you? —
—Sorry, this is Kellen. —
—From the last few days?—
—Which you probably know. —
—And I’m clearly interrupting something. —
