Dad:Can you come pick us up?
I sniffled again and blinked, my eyes still stinging slightly. What the hell?
I texted:Why? How did you get there?
Dad:Joey drove us but he had to leave early. Connor offered his driver, but I had to put my foot down. We’ve imposed enough. Had to lay down the law on him.
Nowaywas I driving into the city and rolling up to Connor Cunningham’s apartment, especially looking like this.
Me:Can’t you just take an Uber?
I was too exhausted to deal with this.
Dad:The surge price is nuts right now—you can’t come get your old man?
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath as I texted:Send me the address. But I’m just going to text you when I get there and you can come out because I’m basically in pajamas.
Dad:You can’t pretty yourself up and come up?
My dad, ladies and gentlemen.
Me:No, I cannot.
I knew it was a terrible night to be short with him, but I just couldn’t leave the car. Icouldn’t. I got on the freeway and headed for Connor’s place, which, according to the map, looked like it was right by the Target Center. I cranked the Blue Stones as I flew down the freeway, trying to get out of my funk.
By the time I got off at the exit, I was feeling better. I was pretty sure I could handle picking up my dad and brothers without them seeing I was an emotional wreck.
But when I pulled up to a meter spot in front of the buildingand texted my dad, he didn’t respond. Matty and Ty didn’t respond, either. I texted Connor and healsodidn’t respond.
I sighed and called my father.
“Tony here,” he answered, sounding like a social butterfly.
“Dad, I’m in front of the building.”
“Oh, I need you to come up,” he said.
“No, I told you I’m not going to do that. Just come down when you’re ready.”
“You gotta come up—it’s important,” he said. “The code is 9281. Punch it in the door panel, then punch it in the elevator. Takes you right into his apartment, isn’t that something?”
“I don’t even have on shoes,” I lied, not budging because I would rather be eaten by actual wolves than go up to Connor’s place in my current state.
“Cunningham owns the damn building—he doesn’t care if you have shoes on—”
“I’m sure he doesn’t own the building, Dad—”
“Oh shit, you gotta get up here now—”
And then the call was disconnected.
I sighed and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. My dad was a shit. A shit who was playing games with me. I knew him well enough to know nothing was going on that I needed to “get up there” for.
He wanted me to engage with Connor and he wasn’t giving me another option.
If it were any other night, I would just stubbornly sit in the car and wait it out until he was forced to give in.
But I needed to be selfless.
