Page 163 of Soul So Dark

Colson thought it was dumb, but then I told him he was dumb for asking my opinion and then not taking it. Then he asked me why Ponyboy and I told him it was none of his goddamn business. End of story.

“Pony,” I squat down and let him sniff the side of my head while I scratch his neck.

It’s almost like he knows who I am. The glint from the light pole catches his collar and reflects off the brass name plate riveted to the leather. I gently pull him closer to read the engraving.

RUN MOTHERFUCKER

Typical.

Giving Pony one more scratch behind the ear, I move to stand and then head to the back of the Jeep to retrieve my luggage. White smoke drifts out of the chimney, promising that the inside of the log house is much more inviting than the impending storm we’ve managed to outrun.

And I’m not disappointed. I don’t know what kind of interior decorator my dad is, but I’m sure the only reason why the inside of the house looks like something straight out of Williams Sonoma is because of the woman behind me. I would say my dad’s contribution is the pair of massive elk antlers above the mantle or the black bear skin hanging behind the dining table, but it’s equally likely that’s Mary, too.

My dad’s at the sink next to the coffeemaker. It never turns off, but miraculously still chugs along. Granted, he probably just buys the same one each time it dies. They could be on their 20thCuisinart and I’d never know.

Mary has more than a few inches on me, but my dad still dwarfs her. People say I take after my mom; short, black hair, and a smile exactly like hers. But it’s clear who my brother takes after.

She hangs her coat on the hook next to the door and walks up behind him, giving him a couple pats on the shoulder. “Did those new snips work on the fence?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I replaced those panels. Are you picking up Dallas?”

“Already did,” she nods at me with a smile.

“Gee, thanks, Dad,” I scoff. “Care much?”

I barely get the last word out when he turns around and I freeze.

Oh…my god…

It’s not my dad.

My mouth still hanging open, Colson sets down his coffee mug on the counter and starts across the living room, “Dally,” he drawls with a smile as he approaches.

The broad shoulders, the intimidating height, and now his dark auburn hair is grown out and pulled back through his Mossy Oak cap in a haphazard bun. He looks exactly like my dad. And then, as though I’ve stepped into a parallel universe, my actual dad emerges from the hallway, the only difference being his standard shadow of a beard.

My eyes dart back to Colson and I raise my arms just in time for him to embrace me around the shoulders.

“Long time, no see,” he rumbles.

After a few seconds, I pull back. “Tell me about it, hillbilly,” I shoot back while making a show of examining his hair. “Where the hell have you been?”

“There aren’t many barbers in the Arctic circle,” he smirks. But even through his smile, he looks different; more intense, if that’s even possible.

Before I can lob another snarky response at him, my dad eclipses Colson. I throw my arms around his neck as soon as he leans down and he lifts my feet off the ground.

“Dallas, Dallas, Bo Ballas!” his deep voice reverberates in my ear with the same name he’s called me since I was a baby and the same faint aroma of coffee lingering on his shirt. “Was your flight on time? Those yay-hoos at Montrose didn’t lose any of your luggage, did they?”

“No,” I laugh as he lowers me back to the floor. “But they almost didn’t let me board the plane,” I say with a more serious tone. “The gate agents thought I was an unaccompanied minor with the wrong ticket. I tried to tell them, but they kept asking for my parents’ names.”

“What?” he deadpans, his eyes darkening.

“Yeah,” I say incredulously. “They searched my bag for weed and then quizzed me on the state capitols. I got New Hampshire wrong and they put me in a tiny room and called security.”

“Are youfuckingkidding me?” my dad snarls, his face awash with rage.

Did I mention that Colson also gets his temper from our dad?

“Dean,” Mary mutters, nudging his side, “she’s kidding.”