“I thought we were going to McHenry’s,” Foster grumbled, sliding down in his seat and glowering at his beer. It was some fancy craft bullshit called Brimstone Brew, and he only ordered it because everything else was either fruity, loaded with vodka, or absurdly complicated. Or it had a stupid pun for a name. He raked his scathing glare across the room. “This place is a fucking joke, and it’s not a funny one.”
“Don’t be such a grump.” Gabe frowned. “I thought it would cheer you up to see them making a mockery of your father. That’s whyIlike to come here.”
“I’d rather just pretend he doesn’t exist, thanks.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” Gabe said sympathetically, leaning back and unfolding his hands to pat Foster gently on the arm. “He hasn’t?—”
He broke off abruptly and Foster glanced over, only to see Gabe gaping at the doorway like a fool. He followed the stare and felt his blood pressure increase. His father shoved his way through the dance floor to the bar. Foster twisted sharply toward Gabe.
“Is this why youinsistedon coming here? Is this, what, an intervention?”
“No,” Gabe croaked, fixated on Lucifer with a look of intense longing mingled with grief. Foster pulled back, momentarily thrown for a loop, but quickly recovered.
“Then why is hehere?”
The angel licked his lips and glanced at Foster with a grin, though it didn’t reach his still-wide eyes. “I guess the Devildoesgo down to Georgia’s?”
“Gabe,” Foster hissed, too irritated for jokes, and the other man just smiled.
“I guess that’s my cue, good luck!”
“What?!”
“Don’t kill anyone!” And then he was gone, slipping into a gap between space and vanishing before Foster’s enraged eyes.
“Un-fucking-believable.”
Foster sank into his seat, praying for invisibility and cursing that it wasn’t one of his natural born talents.Please just let him fucking drink and leave.
As always, the Universe decided nothing could go his way. He risked a glance back in the direction he’d seen his father, only to start in alarm when he made direct eye contact with the man as he stood mere feet from the table. “Fuck!”
“No,” Luce chuckled, “the word is ‘father’, actually.”
“We’re not going down that road again,” Foster groaned. “Not today, please.”
Luce sobered slightly at the weary undertone in his son’s words. “Is something wrong?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I got some bad news today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?” He glared at his father, every muscle in his face twinging with the force of clenching his jaw. “I’m so sure.”
“I am,” Luce insisted, inviting himself to settle across from his son in the booth when no invitation seemed forthcoming. “I’m here to try and make amends, Foster.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Because of some stupidvisionthat I’m going to cause Armageddon?”
He missed the older man’s flinch at the casual statement, too busy rolling his eyes.
“Well…yes,” Luce admitted, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. “Mags’s vision was the catalyst, but it shouldn’t have been. I want to make an effort, Foster. I want to start atoning for my failures.”
“I’m going to level with you,” Foster sighed, straightening up and folding his hands on the worn shellac tabletop between them. “I do not care how bad you feel. I have beenaloneapart from one sympathetic angel and an infuriating demon for almost two decades. You denied me theone thingI ever asked you for, and then you abandoned me.”
“Foster, please?—”
“I’m not finished,” he cut across the interruption, tone like ice. “You don’t get to speak right now. You’re going to sit there and shut the hell up, and I’m going to explain exactly how badly you fucked up my life until you get it through yourthick skullthat I am not going to forgive you any time soon, if ever.”
Luce frowned harshly but kept his silence. He could at least start with listening, since that seemed to be step one in Foster’s healing.
