"Jake—"
"I have to go."Already heading for the door, laptop bag over his shoulder."Dad—" He stops."You know what, forget it."
Dad.That word hits me wrong every fucking time.
Scott Sullivan stopped being our father the day he decided his pride mattered more than his family.But Jake still uses that title like it means something.
I want to tell him a million things.Want to explain how Scott operates—starts small with a comment here, suggestion there, until you're so turned around you can't tell which thoughts are yours and which ones he planted in your head.
But Jake's already gone, front door slamming behind him while the sound echoes through the empty house.
I sit there staring at the spot where he was, and that familiar weight settles in my chest.Helplessness.It's the absolute worst feeling—it makes me feel like I'm twelve again, small and scared and completely fucking paralyzed.This is what Scott does.
He divides and conquers, finds cracks in relationships and wedges them wider until families break apart from the inside.
My phone buzzes.
Nick
Can you come down to Sonder?Need to talk to you about something.
My gut twists.
Something's wrong.
I should be used to this feeling by now—my life's basically been a series of unfortunate events since I was old enough to pay attention.
I grab the Mustang keys, grateful for an excuse to get out of this house and away from its ghosts.The car's been sitting in the garage since I left, covered like some sleeping beast.When I pull off the tarp, the black paint gleams in the dim light and for a second I'm seventeen again, working on this engine instead of trying to fix things that might be permanently broken.
The Mustang purrs to life like it's been waiting for me.
As I back out, the radio kicks in and"Lucky Man"by the Verve fills the car.I have to laugh at the bitter irony—a song about fortune and fate when my life feels like anything but lucky.
Driving through Eden in daylight feels different—less forgiving than it did the night of the party.Every corner holds a memory, every building a story I'd rather forget.But there's something about being behind the wheel of this car, windows down, music playing, that makes it bearable.Like I'm moving through the past instead of being trapped in it.
Sonder looks better than when I left.
Jay's behind the counter, clearing glasses with practiced efficiency.But when I walk through the door, there's someone else here I wasn't expecting.
Officer Danny Stanton—the cop I turned myself in to last summer after my fight with Evan.
"Nate, you remember Danny," Nick says, and there's something in his tone that makes me pay attention.
I shake Danny's hand, noting how he studies my face like he's looking for something specific.
"Good to see you again, Nate.I hear you've been doing well."
"One day at a time, right?"
Danny nods like he knows exactly what that means."That's all any of us can do."
"Jay, leave it.Come out back with us," Nick says.
The office is cramped with all of us in here, but it's private, which apparently matters for whatever conversation we're about to have.
"What's this about?"I settle into one of the mismatched chairs Nick keeps back here.
Nick and Danny exchange one of those looks that says they've already discussed how to handle this, who's going to deliver the bad news.
