Others followed.
I dumped the alcohol in the sink and heard someone hollering for Dylan.
God-awful music. Kids these days didn’t know a good tune if it smacked them in the head.
Once the kitchen was cleared, I repositioned myself in the doorway as more kids hurried to leave.
Looked like I didn’t have to do much else.
“I’ll take that.” Another vodka bottle.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
“Want me to call the police for you?” I drawled.
He wasn’t in Dylan’s class. I didn’t recognize him.
And now he was gone.
Hey, another cigarette—in my goddamn house. What was wrong with people? At least my brother and I had had the decency to cover shit up.
I put it out in a nearby bottle of who-the-fuck-knew.
The rush ended with Dylan appearing in the hallway, eyes wide—oh, he was lit. Fuck me, that pissed me off.
“Dad, w-what’re you doing home?”
“Wrong question,” I gritted out. I pointed toward the living room that was still packed with people. “You have twenty minutes to clear the house and get every ounce of booze and weed into the kitchen. Am I making myself clear, son?”
He nodded jerkily and disappeared into the crowd.
Rein it in.
I took a steadying breath and walked out of the house, pocketing the contact sheet on the way.
I didn’t wanna see the place right now. I’d give him the chance to take care of the worst, and then we’d talk and clean up together.
Noticing that James and Jordan stood on their porch, I trailed over there and did my best to shake my anger. It was skin-deep, simmering on top of an ocean of indifference. Mostly because this was what teenagers did, right? Yeah, there had to be consequences, but I reckoned my biggest issue was simply watching Dylan leave his childhood behind.
I wasn’t ready.
In two years, he’d start college. He was looking at schools. He’d asked Nate to do a college tour along the East Coast.
“How happy are you that your nephew wasn’t here today?” I asked James, climbing their porch steps.
He chuckled through his nose. “Sadly, this little high school party would’ve been better.”
Yeah…that was another thing. I couldn’t be too angry. We hadn’t had many problems with Dylan.
“How’s it going over there?” Jordan wondered.
I glanced toward my house, seeing more kids head out. “I gave him twenty minutes to get rid of everyone and most of the evidence.”
“Aww, you’re a good dad. Lemme give you a healing hug.” Jordan closed the distance between us and threw his arms around my neck.
I laughed quietly and patted him on the back.
It felt a little too good, so I shifted where I stood to end the hug faster.
