Page 107 of Clear Shot

Mostly because they’re standing in my foyer, expecting to be invited in.

“Is your wife here? The pretty blonde?”

She’s actually more of a brunette, but her hair looks golden in the sunlight.

“Hana,” I reply automatically. “No. She’s…at her brother’s.”

“Oh.” Daphne looks momentarily disappointed. “We’ve been hoping to meet her but it seems like you guys aren’t here much.” She looks toward the unfurnished great room.

“I travel for work and she’s been… helping with her brother’s new baby.”

“Well, we’re so excited to have someone young in the neighborhood,” Daphne says, brightening. “A lot of the owners are older, and we were hoping for some younger blood.”

“Well, uh, I don’t know if we’re staying,” I admit. “I may be moving for work. It was unexpected so I’m not sure yet.”

“Oh.” Now all three of them look disappointed.

Jesus, could I possibly disappoint any more people this week?

I heard from Mr. Knight earlier and he was pissed that I asked for a trade without talking to him. I know he’s spoken to Hana, so he probably thinks I’m a world-class douche, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

“Well, we brought food.” Heather smiles. “And tell your wife to please just come say hello even if you wind up moving.”

“I appreciate it,” I say, finally finding some semblance of manners. “Sorry if I seem distracted. I was asleep and there’s been…a lot going on.”

“Of course. And we won’t keep you.” Farrah heads right for the kitchen and I let her because…well, why not? I could use sustenance right now. Hopefully, she won’t have anything to say about the empty whiskey bottles all over the counters.

“Well, we left some food for you,” Heather says. “We’ll let you get back to…resting. Please tell Hana we’d love to meet her, even if you wind up moving.”

We exchange a few more pleasantries and then they’re gone.

Leaving me unsure what to do with myself.

I could eat. I need to eat.

So I go into the kitchen and wince at the mess. They’re going to think I’m a complete slob, and I guess I am. Without Hana, I haven’t had any reason to think about cleaning or even cleaning up the garbage. Christ, I really am a fuck-up.

And never more so than with my wife.

She should be here now, meeting our new neighbors, making friends and starting our life together. The life we were both so excited about. The life we decided we wanted. Together.

What made me turn on her so quickly?

Fear.

That’s the only answer.

I was—Iam—afraid.

Of fathering a child with my genetics.

Of being a father to any child because I don’t know how my depression will impact my ability tobea good father. Now that I’m older, I know some of my father’s issues stemmed from his depression—and his inability to deal with it. He medicated with drugs and alcohol, got addicted, and spiraled in a multitude of ways.

I won’t do that.

Not only am I aware of my issues, I have a huge support system. Doctors, therapists—and friends. Friends that are like family. Johan and Jordan and Anders. Felix and Decker. Even Mr. Knight. Who made it very clear whose side he was on when we spoke earlier.

My friends sided with Hana too.