“Why? He’s my dad. I’m not allowed to talk about him?”
“We can talk about him later. Not now.”
“Why not now?”
“I don’t want to get into it.” He taps on the menu in front of me. “Find something to order. I only have an hour before I need to be back at the studio.”
What a jerk. He doesn’t pick me up at the airport. Tells me I can’t talk about my dad. Makes me hurry through lunch. He didn’t even ask how I’m doing after losing my mom.
He swipes through his phone, then types something while I sit there in silence. After a few minutes, he finally sets his phone down.
“So,” Brock says, “how have you been?”
“Well, let’s see. My mom just died and I got shipped out here to live with people who don’t want me.”
He leans back and lets out a long sigh. “Rumor, I know this is difficult but let’s try to make the best of it. It’ll be an adjustment for all of us.”
“Really?” I huff. “Did you have to leave your home, your friends, the person you love?”
“I realize the situation is much different for you, but—”
“Stop acting like you know what I’m going through. You have no fucking clue.”
“Keep your voice down!” he hisses in a harsh whisper, checking the restaurant to see if anyone heard. He looks back at me. “You don’t want to be here. I get it. But it was either this or foster care, and if I recall, you chose this.”
“I changed my mind.” I fold my arms over my chest. “If it means I can go home, I’ll take foster care.”
“Too late.” He takes the cloth napkin from the table and sets it on his lap.
“It’s not too late. I could leave right now. Have Harley take me back to the airport.”
“You’re not leaving. Everything’s already arranged for your stay. Your room is ready. I’ve enrolled you in school. And your cousins are excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure they can’t wait for me to move in.”
“Okay, yes, perhaps they’re not thrilled about it, but they will be once they get to know you.”
“Just let me go home. I know you don’t want me here. Why not just send me back?”
“Because you need to be with your family.” He pauses. “We’re all you have left.”
“You’re not my family. I’ve never even met you people. Sharing some DNA doesn’t make us family. Families care about each other. Spend time with each other. Have holidays together.”
“Not all families do those things, especially when they live on different coasts. It would’ve been nice to see you over the years, but the distance prohibited it.”
“You’re an actor. I’m sure you go to New York all the time.”
“Not all the time, but occasionally.”
“And I’m sure you brought your kids with you.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“Then why didn’t you come see us?”
“You want the truth?”
He pauses, and I wait for him to continue.
