Dad’s brows arch with surprise. “You went out with Journey tonight?”
“Kind of.”
“How’s she doing? Is she hanging in there with losing Harold and all?”
I shrug because honestly, who knows what’s going through Journey’s head. She doesn’t share much with me, and she’s really good at shutting me down. “I don’t know. She’s got a very cold side to her, but it makes me think she has some deep wounds that are bleeding out.”
“You know the type well, I’m afraid,” Dad says.
“Speaking of which … she asked what happened to me those couple of years.”
“You give her the same old spiel?” he asks.
The spiel; the lies—same thing. “No, I told her the first part of the story, believe it or not.”
Dad adjusts his position on the couch and lifts his elbow to the armrest. “You told her about Pete?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“She ran off like I insulted her,” I say.
Dad tosses his head back and runs his fingers through his thinning hair. He’s been an advocate for me opening up about Pete. He doesn’t believe in hiding the truth when it might help someone else, but it’s been too hard to talk about something that was so life changing. It’s always been easier to make up stories. “Not everyone will react the way she did, Brody.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, who knows, right?”
“Son, if she ran off, why do you think that is?”
His question pains me because it has been lurking in my head since Journey jumped off the edge, into the night. “Who knows? Look what she’s gone through these last few months?”
“I know. It’s something no kid, no matter how old, should have to go through, but life’s tricky and doesn’t give us options.” Dad stands from the couch and stretches his arms over his head. “Brody, you’re a grown man. I can’t tell you what to do anymore, but man to man, if someone runs off like that when you are sharing a hard memory, they might be dealing with something just as bad if not worse. Don’t let Journey’s actions dictate your feelings.”
I know he’s right, but she’s been a tough nut to crack as it is, and I’m not sure I know how to handle someone like Journey. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Remember what I told you once: the ones who seem the strongest are often—”
“The weakest. I know,” I say.
“You are where you are for a reason, Brody. Never forget that, okay?” Dad wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me. “Cheer up. Everything will work out the way it should. Just do what you do best and be a bull in a China shop.”
His statement makes me snicker. He and Mom have always referred to me as a bull in a China shop. I don’t have an ounce of grace or eloquence, nor do I have a filter or the ability to be quiet. Some people like that in a person. Others are overwhelmed and scared by it. Journey might be a little of both.
“Be careful driving home. It’s foggy out tonight. There’s probably deer and moose everywhere.”
“I’ve lived here for sixty-four years. I’m aware of the wildlife, son.”
“Thanks for watching Hannah tonight.”
Dad glances up the stairs toward her bedroom. “Can’t see I did much watching, but I checked on her several times and she appeared to be doing some schoolwork.”
“Her cell phone was in her textbook,” I inform him with a smirk.
Dad rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have to worry about that when you boys were kids. I don’t know how you deal with this techno crap. It’s out of control.”
“It’s a good time,” I agree.
“Okay, well get some sleep. I’ll see you in the shop tomorrow, but I’ll be late. I have a dentist appointment first thing.”
