Page 22 of Possessed By Shadows

It was stupid to let my dad affect me this way. He hadn’t been a part of my life for over fourteen years. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard from him since I’d enlisted. Many people who had met my parents considered my mother cold, since she was a nurse and very clinical. But she had at least responded to letters when I’d been overseas, and answered the phone when I called. My father had been more of a ghost in my life. Someone I once knew who never seemed to like me much.

Micah led me to the back room and sat me down in a chair, putting the boxes of food in front of me and a bottle of water. “Eat some of the protein at least?” he prompted. He opened the box with the sausage and put a fork in my hand. “Focus on the food.”

“My dad…”

“Is not a dragon to be slayed.”

“You don’t know that,” I said. “He doesn’t like me.”

“His loss,” Micah said, completely unphased by the idea of my dad storming into our lives.

“It sounds like he’s going to be here for a while.”

“And it sounds like he’s your brother’s problem,” Micah pointed out.

“If we can find Lukas. He’s never off radar like this.”

“Not true,” Micah corrected.

That was news to me. He had vanished before? “Lukas? My brother Lukas? Guy who owns a couple houses and businesses?”

“And has gotten in trouble in the past for getting so involved in stuff that he doesn’t show up to work,” Micah agreed.

“Did he miss work for the Sky thing?” That would make sense because Sky was important. Was he out helping someone now?

“And random other things. Your brother does not walk on water,” Micah said. “Eat. I’ll send your dad your way when he arrives.” He headed back out into the shop.

“You don’t even know what my dad looks like,” I said.

“I’m sure he’ll tell me who he is,” Micah called back. I heard the bell for the door ding and braced, thinking it was my dad already, but when Micah greeted the person and they responded, it was a female voice. Regular customer then.

I picked at the meat, the flavor like sawdust in my mouth. Had Lukas told my dad everything? About my many inpatient stays? My claims of ghosts and demons? My father would call all of that nonsense, tell me to go to church, work hard, and all the problems of the world would fix themselves. They never really had for him, he had just accepted the way it was. I was not a man who accepted shit thrown at me by fate.

Fuck. Maybe this was more of my karma coming back to bite me? Not sitting back and letting the universe do whatever it wanted so it kept fucking with my life?

The deep rumble of the familiar voice from the main part of the shop almost sent me to the bathroom to hork up the little I ate. Micah appeared in the doorway to the breakroom. “You can leave your stuff back here. Sky should be back with the keys soon.” His gaze fell on me, saying a thousand things, but all a kindness I recognized as support. Micah didn’t judge me by my relatives. He hadn’t complained when we had gotten radio silence over Christmas, even after sending my family gifts.

My dad followed behind, towing a large luggage case, but dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He wasn’t as big as I remembered. Probably only five-foot-nine or so. He had always felt big. Taking up space, and sort of intimidating. It wasn’t something he did on purpose, but more his default setting. His skin was a strong sepia with jewel undertones, that looked healthy and almost tanned compared to my bronze terra-cotta colors. If not for our eyes, which were the same shade of warm brown, we would have little in common. Though my hair had his tight curl, he kept his shaved down so far it was hard to see the dark fuzz peppered with gray on his scalp, while mine was closer to my mother’s blond without her smooth length.

I’d grown up hating my hair, cutting it short like my father had until I’d gotten out of the military. But Micah adored it, so I left it for him to decide what he liked. Maybe that was wishy-washy of me, Lukas had always trimmed his business short, but I didn’t care about the upkeep required when my boyfriend had his fingers wrapped in it.

“I’m sure there’s extra food, if you’re hungry,” Micah said with a smile. “It should only be a few minutes.” The sound of the bell dinged again and Micah raised a brow my way before heading back to the main part of the shop to greet a customer.

I gave the unopened container of gumbo a shove toward my dad. “Hungry?” I’d cook for Micah when we got home. As long as we could shake my dad fast.

“Lukas has done well for himself,” my father said as he set his bag inside the breakroom along the wall. “Strange little shop he owns.”

“Partially owns,” I corrected. “Micah owns half.” The only reason he hadn’t bought out Lukas’s half was due to city ordinances about residency and ownership. It gave local residents more sway over businesses, but it meant Micah, who was an immigrant with a constant mess of having to renew his visa status, could not outright own the business. It was a complicated haul of legal and tax issues that Micah had tried to explain once, but my brain had sort of wandered to counting the freckles on his face. I apologized, and he’d kissed me, telling me not to worry about it.

“Half is better than nothing,” my father said.

It felt like a jab at me. Maybe he hadn’t meant it that way, maybe he had. I owned nothing. Not a house, or a car, or a business, only a past riddled with bullets and bad memories.

I turned my focus back to the food. Technically we should have left already, it was almost eight. If Lukas had shown up for his midday shift, he’d have been around to help out Sky during the rush, and help ready for close.

“You’re staying for a few weeks?” I tried, thinking maybe he’d leave me alone since he was supposed to be working on Lukas’s haunted house. “Is Mom coming too?”

“You know she’s working. The hospital is always busy.”