“That’s different.”
“You bonded with Echo.”
“She’s a dog.” Diem swiped a hand over his mouth and eyed the pack of gum on the dash, but seemed to decide against another piece. Quieter, he mumbled, “He called me son.”
My heart ached at the uncertainty on Diem’s face. It was such a simple thing, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Because you’re mine, D. Heath sees how important you are to me, so he wants to know you. He became my dad when I was seventeen. I’ll never forget the first time he called me son. He’s letting you know that you’re part of the family now, too. Unconditionally,” I added, because to Diem, love was always conditional.
If vulnerable had a face, it was Diem’s. The words Father and Dad and Son were tainted in his mind. I hoped one day he would see that a family didn’t have to be made up of those who shared your genes. Not a lot of things scared Diem, but letting people in was one he struggled with. After years of abuse and rejection, his trust in humanity was thin.
“I told him I would think about it.”
“That sounds fair.”
It was a start.
The lunch hour had come and gone, and at quarter past two, my tummy rumbled.
Diem chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Someone didn’t share his candy, and this is hunger-inducing work. I can’t believe you haven’t fed me yet.”
Peering down the street, Diem tugged a card from his wallet and motioned to a restaurant on the next corner. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. Also, stop in the Rexall and grab some more candy.”
“Does it help?”
He didn’t respond.
Accepting the card, I pursed my lips. “You know the action is one hundred percent going to happen the second I walk down the road and enter the restaurant, right?”
“Probably. We could always skip lunch.”
My tummy rumbled again, voicing its objection. “No can do. It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
Luck was on my side.
By the time I returned with two orders of beer-battered fish and chips, a pack of peanut butter M&Ms, Junior Mints, and Lifesavers, Diem was in the same position he’d been all morning, absently staring at the building across the street as he stroked Echo’s fur, lost somewhere inside his head.
We ate.
Afternoon faded into evening. I was losing the will to live, but didn’t dare say so.
With rush hour came heavier traffic and an increase in pedestrians on the sidewalk. Diem took Echo for a short walk so she could relieve herself, but he never strayed far. She had shared a few of Diem’s fries earlier and chowed down on several crunchy dog biscuits, but sooner or later, we would need to abandon this futile stakeout and take her home for a proper meal.
The sun went down as the clock ticked close to seven. A bus pulled up, and several people got off, scattering in every direction. I’d reconnected with Memphis, and we were deep into an argument over our favorite contestants on the dating show Diem hadn’t wanted to discuss, so I was only paying half attention to the brownstone, no longer caring why we were there.
So, when Diem jolted upright and shouldered out the door with a, “Let’s go,” I scrambled to figure out what the heck was going on.
Then, I saw him. “Oh shit.”
The guy we’d been waiting for all day stood on the opposite side of the road, wearing the same hoodie and coat we’d seen in the video. He paused outside the building to light a cigarette, long dark bangs falling forward as he cupped his hands around the flame to block the wind.
Diem was halfway across the busy street, dodging cars and trucks, before I processed what was happening and undid my seat belt.
“Wait!” I cried.
He didn’t wait.
Echo chuffed from the back seat.
