Page 20

CHAPTER 20

TYSHAWN

The week flies by, with only one kill in between. Our mark was involved in a hit-and-run that was intentional—striking his ex-girlfriend and their child—but he got off on a technicality. Luckily the kid survived, but sadly, without their mother. So Leo had some fun cutting off a few fingers, and he let me use a garrote that time. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I don’t want to use that again. It took close to five minutes and all my strength to kill him.

Before I know it, the weekend rolls around, and I have to go see my dad like I promised. The day before, my stomach is in knots, and the kitchen is overflowing with cookies, cupcakes, muffins, croissants and Danishes. When I’m stressed, baking helps me channel my thoughts. Usually.

It’s not working this time. No matter how much I bake, my mind is still clouded. It’s like the ghost of my mom is telling me to let it go and give my father some grace, but my heart isn’t ready to hear it.

For some reason, I feel like he betrayed her, which is stupid because he can’t be in mourning forever. I think I’m hung up on the six months part, not that he moved on. It just seemed like it was too fast.

A light knock sounds at the door, but it opens before I can answer. June comes around the corner, smiling widely at me. I try to return it, but my lips only twitch. Yeah, far from convincing.

“Uh oh. Did Leo fuck up?” He looks around the kitchen, his eyes brightening when he spots the red velvet cupcakes. “Maybe he should fuck up more often if you bake like this.” He glances over his shoulder and winks, biting into the cupcake. He groans, and I chuckle, feeling lighter already. “God, Ty. If you were single, I’d marry you just for the baking.”

A full belly laugh erupts from me as I put a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. “Don’t get me wrong, June,” I mutter, wiping my hands on the apron Leo bought me that says, ‘Cutie on Duty’, “you’re handsome as fuck but definitely not my type. I’m more interested in psychopaths.”

June laughs, climbing on one of the barstools in the kitchen. “So what’s up? Why the lone man bake off?”

I sigh, leaning my hand against the counter and lowering my head. June and I aren’t close, not like me and Sam. But I want us to be. I want June and I to become good friends, someone I can talk to about the kills me and Leo might do or when I have questions about Leo’s behavior that June can give me some insight on. And June just seems like a positive person. His vibe radiates friendliness and happiness, someone I can come to if I have life issues, and I wouldn’t have a problem being that same person for him.

Glancing up at him, his expression is open and welcoming but also a little concerned. I decided to tell him all my issues. Hopefully he doesn’t think I’m dumping on him.

Exhaling roughly, I say, “I’m going to see my dad tomorrow.”

“Are you close?” June asks, resting his arms on the counter.

“We were. More so to my mom, but we still had a strong bond. My mother died a few years ago, and I expected him to work through his grief alone, ya know?”

June nods, giving me his undivided attention.

“But six months later, he’s introducing me to his girlfriend. My parents were married for twenty-five years and he moved on in six months. I just … I’m having a hard time reconciling that.”

June is silent for a moment, finishing off his cupcake with a thoughtful expression on his face. When he’s done, he folds the paper up into a small square. Only then does he look at me, eyes filled with compassion. “My parents have been married for almost thirty years, and I know if one of them died, the other would be devastated. Can I be frank though?”

“Please.”

“If your mother is anything like mine, she wouldn’t want your father to be alone. He’s not replacing your mother. He’s probably just trying to find a new form of happiness that protects him from the pain of losing his life partner.”

A trapped breath leaves my lungs at June’s explanation. He’s right. I know he is, but it still hurts to let that image go. I’m so used to my parents being together that it’s hard to see him with someone else.

“It’s tough,” I whisper, wiping the lone tear from my eye. “I miss her, and I expect him to miss her too.”

Climbing off the stool, June comes over to me, giving me a one-armed hug. “Just because he moved on doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss her, Ty. Talk to him. Get his side of things and don’t hurt your own feelings making up a scenario in your head. He’s your father, and if you were close, he deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. I laugh briefly. “Had I asked Leo that, he wouldn’t have known what to say to help me.”

“Yeah, Blu is better at comforting me than he used to be, but he definitely would have been lost with that. Or he would have psychoanalyzed me. He’s good at that.”

“Thank you, June. I needed this talk.”

“You’re welcome. I want us to be friends. I’ll always be here when you need an ear. A bit of advice if I may?” His voice goes up at the end, as if posing it as a question. I nod, giving him my attention. “Hear your father out. Try to wipe the thoughts you conjured up in your head and let him tell you what’s going on. Your relationship will be better for it.”

Those words swirl in my head as I drive myself and Leo to my childhood home. Leo has his fingers threaded through mine, and I have his hand in a death grip. He keeps giving me looks, but I always shoot him a shaky smile. I know he wants to help, but right now, I need to focus on what June told me. I think that’s the only way I’ll be able to continue this drive and not get off on the next exit to head for our condo.

I pull into my old neighborhood, and a smile breaks across his face. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I have so many memories.

Pointing out of the window, I tell Leo, “See that small cove right there?”

“Yep.”

“That’s where I had my first kiss. I was in the ninth grade. Upperclassman named Morgan.”

Leo growls. “Fuck Morgan.”

I laugh, squeezing his hand again. “I didn’t, if you were worried about that. It was just a kiss. He wanted to practice, and I had no experience, so I was all for it. He was a nice guy. We lost touch over the years. Last I heard, he was living abroad with his partner and their kids.”

He grunts, and I laugh. I’m glad I brought Leo along. I think I’ll need him near after a conversation with my father.

My dad is waiting outside when I pull in to the driveway. He’s beaming as I put the car in park, and I can’t help returning the smile. Regardless of how his moving on made me feel, I missed my dad.

I run into his arms, giving him a big hug. He pats me on the back, rocking me back and forth.

“Hey, son. So good to see you.” He lets me go, holding me at arm’s length. “You look great. Been in the gym?”

“You know it.” I work out, but I’m not as fit as my father. Even at fifty-seven, he’s still in excellent shape, hitting the weights multiple times a week.

My father, Jermaine, and I resemble each other, besides him having two golden brown eyes and he always has a beard. I keep my face clean-shaven—probably because I can’t grow a full beard. It comes in patchy. His dark brown skin matches mine and so do all of his other features. Well, besides the hair. I’ve been trying to get him to shave his head bald to get rid of that receding hairline, but he doesn’t listen. It makes me happy to see some things never change.

With one last hug, I turn to Leo, who’s standing by the car. “Dad, this is Leo, my boyfriend. Leo, this is my dad, Jermaine.”

Leo reaches his hand out, and my father takes it in a firm grasp. A smile graces Leo’s face, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think he was simply a polite man meeting the parents, not someone hiding their true nature to make a good impression. “Nice to meet you, sir. Tyshawn has told me a lot about you.”

My father’s eyes soften when they drift over to me. “Good things, I hope.”

“The best,” Leo assures and I blow out an imperceptible breath. I only told Leo the doubts I have about my father jumping into a quick relationship. His lie on my behalf makes my heart squeeze.

We head inside, and Dad walks us into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?” He opens the fridge and pokes his head inside. “I have beer, water, juice, and a few cokes.”

“Water for me, sir,” Leo says.

“I’ll take one as well.”

Dad pulls out two waters for us and a beer for himself and motions for us to follow him outside to the back deck. The grill is going, and he opens it, smoke fanning everywhere. He waves it away and flips burgers and hot dogs. “I figured you’d appreciate the grill master hooking you up rather than a kitchen-cooked meal.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Dad would tell me and Mom he was the grill master since he couldn’t bake as well as we did. After my conversation with June, that cloud of sadness doesn’t even mar my memories of my mom, and I’m thankful.

Leo gives me a long look, and I raise my eyebrows at him as if to say what? He tilts his head to the house.

Getting his meaning, I say, “Dad, can we talk? Please?”

Standing by my dad, Leo pulls his hands from his pockets and says, “I’m no grill master, but I think I can keep the food from burning.”

Dad looks over at me, searching my face. After a few seconds, he says, “Okay.” He hands the tongs to Leo, patting his back. “To be a part of this family, you have to know how to cook. Tyshawn and Tessa baked, and I was grill master. You ready for that?”

Leo chuckles, taking the tongs from my father. “I got it, sir.”

“Call me Jermaine. But if I return and find my shit burned, you’ll have to go back to calling me sir.”

I laugh along with them and stand from the table to wait for my dad by the door.

After tells Leo when to flip burgers and turn hot dogs, he follows me to the living room.

We sit and are silent for a moment. It’s awkward, since my father and I haven’t been in the same room alone in over a year. I don’t like having the wedge between us, and I’m going to work hard to remove it. Starting with this conversation.

“Where’s Cynthia?” I ask, looking around. The living room still has photos of my mother and father together, us as a family, and surprisingly, photos of my dad and Cynthia. That softens a little of the resentment I have toward her. It’s obvious she knows my dad has these pictures of my mother up and doesn’t demand he take them down.

His smile is shaky and uneasy, so he probably noticed the estrangement too. I feel like shit for shutting my dad out like this. “She’s coming over later if you’re okay with that.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to invite her on reflex, but we need to hash some things out first. “Why did you move on so quickly?” I ask abruptly. I probably should have asked with more finesse, but sometimes—along with rambling—I blurt shit out.

“I wondered when you’d ask me that.” He leans back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “I didn’t go out looking for it. When Tessa died, I didn’t think I would be able to go on. I thought I’d die along with her.” A lump forms in my throat at the thought of both my parents no longer being here. “I started going to grief counseling a month after she died, I’m not sure if you remember?”

I nod. He asked me to go with him, but I handled my grief differently, not wanting to talk to a room full of strangers about how I felt.

“I wanted to be stronger for you. The way I was carrying on wasn’t healthy, so I tried to get some help processing. That’s where I met Cynthia. Her husband had died a few months before.

“For a few weeks, I would go and not share, just listen to attendees talk about their spouses and feel content that I wasn’t alone—that other people had lost the ones they love, and I could get through it because they were. Then one day, when I was missing Tessa so much I felt like I would choke on my grief, I shared about her. I talked about how we met, how we bought a house and raised you, how we lived a good life together. And about how she … died.” He trips over the word, and I have to blink back tears.

Here I was , thinking Dad no longer cared about Mom and he moved on because he didn’t give a shit. But he’s still hurting. “It’s okay, Dad,” I whisper, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“No, let me get this out,” he says with pleading eyes. I acquiesce, folding my hands in my lap. “After talking about her, I felt lighter, like I could go on because, no matter what, Tessa would always be with me. In here,” he mutters, pointing to his heart. “Once the meeting was adjourned, a few of us went out for coffee, just to talk and bond. They always asked, but I usually didn’t take them up on the offer. But something told me to go this time. What started out as five of us conversing and getting to know each other ended with me and Cynthia chatting about our spouses. She lost her husband in an accident at his job.

“We just got to know each other, and over time, we developed feelings. It may have felt fast, but it’s not how you’re thinking. Cynthia knows I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Tessa, just as she always will for her late husband.” Dad looks at me, a sheen in his eyes. “I’m simply trying to get on as best I can, Ty.”

I slide over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, Ty. It’s okay.” His arms wrap around me, and I break down, crying out all the tears I’ve been holding in for years. I should have come to him before, but my own grief held me back. It didn’t even cross my mind my father was struggling just like me.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. I’ll do better, I promise. I should have been here.”

He kisses the top of my head like he used to do when I was a child, and I smile, more tears dripping down my face. “It’s okay, son. I’m the parent. I should have made sure you were okay too.”

Pulling back, I wipe away my tears. “From now on, let’s be there for each other.”

“Deal.”

I give him one more hug, feeling so much better after our long overdue conversation. I’ll have to work hard to get back to the place we used to be, but I’m willing to do anything to fix the relationship with my dad.

“You can invite Cynthia over. I’d like to get to know her.”

“She’d like that,” Dad says with a grin.

We make our way back outside to Leo, who has a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. His loose blue shirt is sticking to him, but he looks relaxed in front of the grill. He smiles when he sees my dad, handing him the tongs. “Can I still call you Jermaine?”

Dad takes the tongs, moving burgers and hot dogs around. He looks at Leo with a grin. “Yeah, son. You can call me Jermaine.”

Leo comes to sit beside me while my dad removes the meat off the grill. “I’m a grill master,” he mutters, kissing me behind the ear.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I slap his chest so he’ll chill. I might be a grown man, but I don’t wanna do any over-the-top PDA with my dad so close by. “And a good baker. You might be a double threat.”

Another shiver racks my body as he leans to my ear. “A triple threat if you count how I make you come.”

“Behave,” I hiss, begging my cock to go down. Turning to him, I kiss him softly. “Thank you for coming with me. I love you.”

“I love you too, kotenok. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”