I already miss you.
I type back quickly, sending my reply before I question its sappiness. Charlie needs sappy right now. Actually, so do I.
Me
Me too. From the very moment I left you. Be back as soon as I can.
Otisville is a three-hour drive from the city, and I spend most of it replaying Anne’s words in my head. By the time I pull into the parking lot of the satellite prison camp, I’ve almost convinced myself that this visit will be different. That I can tell my fatherabout Anne, about what she said, about the possibility of letting go.
Almost.
The visitation room is the same as always—plastic chairs, vending machines, guards pretending not to listen. I find a seat and wait, watching the door where the inmates enter.
My father appears looking better than he has in months. His hair is neatly combed, his prison-issued clothes pressed and clean. He’s even put on a little weight, which means the commissary money I’ve been sending is going to good use.
“Son.” He pulls me into a hug—brief, firm, the kind of embrace that’s meant to project strength rather than warmth. “You made it. I knew you couldn’t let me down.”
“I told you I’d be here.”
“You did.” He settles into the chair across from me, studying my face with that analytical gaze that’s eerily close to a villain’s smirk. “You look tired. Long flight?”
“Red-eye from Miami.”
“Ah yes. The mysterious new job.” His tone is light, but I can hear the edge underneath. “Private security, you said?”
“That’s right.”
“For someone important, I assume. If they’re flying you around the country.”
I hesitate. The smart move would be to deflect, change the subject, keep Charlie as far from this conversation as possible. But after everything today—Anne’s words, the envelope still in my pocket, the strange lightness in my chest—I want to be honest.
“Yeah,” I say. “Someone famous, actually.”
My father’s eyebrows rise. “Care to elaborate?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “But we have time. And I’d like to know what’s keeping my son so busy he almost missed visitation for the first time in years.”
Ah, the guilt trip—familiar territory. Subtle, almost affectionate, but unmistakable. He’s making me feel bad about something I didn’t even do.I’m here, aren’t I?But I let it wash over me without responding.
“Her name is Charlie,” I hear myself say. “Charlie Riley. She’s my boss, but we’re also kind of starting something…I don’t know. She’s incredible, really.”
My father’s expression flickers. Recognition. “The singer? Taio…isn’t she a teenager?”
“Shewas.Five years ago.” You can’t really blame my dad for being out of touch. Even before he went to prison, he’s not exactly Charlie’s target audience.
“Huh. So you’re working security for Charlie Riley. And you guys are a thing.Wow.” He says it slowly, like he’s tasting the words. “That’s quite a client. She’s worth…what? A hundred million? Two hundred? Is she paying you well?”
“Dad…”
“What? It’s just curiosity.” He waves a hand dismissively. “But go on. You were saying it’s become more than just a job?”
I move past the money comment. That’s just how his brain works—always calculating, always assessing value. It doesn’t mean anything.
“It started as security. Well, it started as something else entirely, but that’s a long story.” I take a deep breath. “The point is, I like her. A lot. I haven’t had anyone since Alaina, so this is new. She’s different but in a good way. She makes me feel like there’s more to my life.”
Silence. My father stares at me, his face unreadable. I can see him processing, sorting through implications and possibilities,trying to figure out what this information means and how it might be useful.
