Travis nodded. “Okay.”
“That easy?” I mused, surprised there was no pushback at all.
“Are you kidding?”
“I guess this is the only kind of car that matters,” Trent quipped.
Travis plowed into me. It was unexpected, and the breath whooshed from my lungs. “Thank you,” he said, squeezing me tight. Damn, this kid was good at hugs. “Seriously, Dad, thank you so much.”
I returned the hug, feeling that tsunami of emotion welling up inside me once more. “You’re welcome, son. Happy birthday.”
Travis pulled back as abruptly as he’d struck, but instead of going to thank T, he hesitated.
“Something on your mind, Trav?”
He nodded once but hesitated again, the bottom of his shoe scuffing the floor. “You aren’t like him,” he rushed out, looking anywhere but me.
His words were a boxing glove dead center to my chest. My heart skipped a beat, and the oxygen rushed from my system, leaving behind an achy, deflated feeling. “Ahh, what?” I rasped.
Sensing how unsteady I was, Trent stepped up behind me, his big body offering a place to lean.
Travis glanced back at me. “I know that’s what you worry about. That you’re going to fuck it all up like he did.”
“You gotta stop saying fuck, Trav,” Trent murmured, but it was only half-hearted.
“Like who?” I said, forgetting about the cursing.
Travis swallowed. “Your dad.”
“What do you know about him?” I asked, not in a challenging way, just a curious one.
We didn’t talk about my parents to our kids. We told them simply that they were people we didn’t want in our lives. Travis once asked why, years ago, and we told him it was because they weren’t very nice. Our kids didn’t dwell on them or their absencebecause, frankly, they left no void to think about. Travis and Andi had an entire family that loved them. It was enough to make up for anyone who didn’t.
“I know he was an asshole.”
“Travis,” Trent warned. “Watch your mouth. And don’t talk about…” I practically heard his brain grind while trying to decide what to call them. “People like that.”
“I read what he did to you,” Travis said, looking straight at Trent. “How they made you stay away from Dad when he was in a coma. How they tried to keep you apart.”
“Who told you that?” I asked, heart pounding harder.
Travis hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor. “I read it online.”
Trent sighed. “Travis,” he implored. “We told you not to read that crap. They just make stuff up to sell magazines.”
“So it’s not true?”
“You should have come to me if you had questions,” he said, skirting the subject.
“Okay,” Travis said and met Trent’s stare. “Is it true? Did they really make you stay away from Dad?”
Trent’s shoulders moved. “Yes.”
“And they said terrible things to you?”
“Yes.”
“Like when he told you Dad was dead?”
