Mom pushes a meatball around with her fork and I reach over and squeeze her wrist. “You’re here now and you’re here when it counts.”
“You deserved a family that could stay intact.”
I think of Abby’s love and adoration for her father. I think of her biological mother, who sold Abby for heroin. Yeah, I have friends that have parents with rock solid marriages, and some who don’t. None of that matters though. I think I’m pretty damn lucky with what I got.
“You love me.” I stand, not wanting to see their reaction, open the fridge, and find the salad. “Both of you do. That’s enough.”
I set the salad on the table and my parents have gone mute. This emotional raw sharing is new and I hope it stays new. I don’t think I could handle this bullshit often. Mom scoops some salad onto her plate and Dad eats a meatless ball, washing it down with water. All these years have passed and he’ll joke, but when it comes down to it, his plate will be clean because he still doesn’t want to hurt her feelings.
That’s a real man right there.
“Your father always preferred eating dinner late,” Mom says. “Remember when you used to work second shift and I would have food waiting for you when you walked in?”
Dad does that grin that tells me he likes the memory. “She used to cook meat then. Real meat.”
“It was awful. I swear I could hear the poor little things screaming as I placed it in the pan. Do you remember how we used to make love before dessert?”
I choke on a cherry tomato. “Too much sharing.”
“It’s natural, Logan. How else do you think you were made?”
“Test tube. Did you miss I’m dating a drug dealer?”
“No,” says Mom. “And we didn’t miss that you’re in love with her, that she’s leaving it, and she’s leaving you.”
Dad just does that thing where he looks at me and I understand all the words he doesn’t know how to say. Like he’s sorry, that’s he’s been there, and it’s tough to lose someone you love.
“Think they have a parenting book on that?” Mom asks. “My Son was Dating a Drug Dealer? Because otherwise, I don’t know what to say. Other than I’m a little concerned I might have bought from her at some point. That would have been awkward. Is she vegetarian? What was her sign?”
I smile because Mom is being Mom and Dad starts in on how she’s too old to smoke pot. I listen to their playful banter, eat another meatless ball and look at the two people sharing dinner with me at midnight. For the moment I enjoy knowing, I’m blessed.
Abby
“Abby.” Nate’s deep voice causes me to jolt awake and almost roll off the couch. I immediately look over at my grandmother who is sleeping deeply in the hospital bed.
Nate explained that Grams is too weak and fragile now for him to constantly carry her up and down the stairs. I trust Nate’s assessment. He loves her as if she was his own flesh and blood.
The room is dark, except for light shining in from the street lamps. The grandfather clock confirms it’s after midnight and I immediately go on alert when Nate places his finger over his lips. “Someone is outside.”
I reach for my blade positioned in my back pocket. “Did they knock?”
“No. Walked up the stairs and sat down in the porch swing. I waited a minute or two before waking you. The guy looks settled like he’s not leaving.”
Adrenaline rushes through me as I stand and head over to the window. I thought I had been careful returning to Louisville. Made Isaiah take several streets to make sure we weren’t followed and I haven’t called Linus since the farm.
I don’t move the curtains, but instead squint through the small crack between them and curse under my breath. My heart beats hard twice. I’m either in a good place or a bad place, but either way I’m screwed.
“If I leave with him call Logan immediately.”
Nate steps in front of me as I go for the door. “I can take care of him.”
I assess the massive man in front of me and have no doubts he could double as a bodyguard. “Stick with healing. One of us needs a clear conscience. Lock the door behind me and if he tries to come in, call the police.”
I walk around him and hate how the door always groans when it opens. It totally kills sneaking in or out. Once I’m out into the warm night, I close the door behind me and meet the eyes of the person I had mistakenly trusted.
“How long have you known?” I ask Linus.
The porch swing creaks under his weight. “A while. Your dad messed up once. Years ago. Got a phone call you were sick. He was emotional. Sloppy. Didn’t watch his back and I was curious so I followed.”
“Anyone else know?”
“What do you think?”
I think Grams would have already been used against me if he had told. “Guess you want me to thank you for that.”
“There’s a lot you should thank me for.”
I snort. “Should I thank you for knowing how Jesus felt about Judas?”
Linus leans forward and bounces his ball against the aging wood of the porch. “It was never to go as far as it did. Tommy was just supposed to scare you and I was supposed to swoop in and save you. Tommy was pissed you knifed him. He was only supposed to scare you with a missed shot. That was it, but when you drew blood, he thought you saw him and he reacted out of instinct. Out of rage, out of fear of you fingering him, so he shot you. He was wrong.”