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“People tell you that you never stop worrying about your kids,” Ciaran tells them, rising and removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, “but in a way, you kind of do. When they’re about thirty.”
“Thirty?” Dad gripes.
“After that they seem to settle down,” Ciarin tells the two younger fathers as he whisks the pancake mix. “They calm, make better decisions, and the only thing you’re worrying about is them dying before you do.” He looks down at the bowl, and I can tell a memory of my mom when she was younger plays in his head. “After a certain point, they’re going to do what they want to do, and all you can do is make sure they know they can still come home when they’re ready. If you lose the relationship, you’ve lost it all.”
I glance over at Jared, seeing his jaw flex as he blinks away whatever’s in his eye.
They continue cooking, my grandpa sees me, giving me a reassuring nod.
“Thanks,” I mouth.
My dad said Jared loved becoming a father, but I can imagine it’s hard not to feel as if you’re just like the parents who raised you when your kid makes decisions that scare you. His father was a monster, but now he’s learning how bad you can make it when you hang on too tightly too.
My dad opens and closes his fist, and I see his knuckles are battered. “That really hurt,” he bitches at Jared through clenched teeth.
“Then don’t bite next time,” Jared whispers, dropping bacon onto a plate lined with a paper towel. “Idiot.”
He steps out of the room, and I quickly follow him.
My dad glances as I pass by but doesn’t try to stop me.
Jared stands in front of the mirror over the credenza in the dining room, running his hands through his hair. I move in behind him, leaning back on the table and meeting his eyes in our reflection.
“It’s only been me,” I tell him. “And there’s only been her. For as long as I can remember.”
He drops his eyes and draws in a deep breath, and I can tell he’s trying to grow. Like super fast so he doesn’t alienate his wife and daughter any more today.
“I have loved that kid so much,” he says, “and I’m grateful she’s stubborn. I hate when she’s stubborn with me, but I’m proud of her.”
He turns and faces me. “But I was scared to have a daughter, Hunter. I know how young guys look at women, and what they think they’re good for, because I used to be one of them. I treated women like shit before Tate.” And then he quickly adds, “I treated Tate like shit.”
I get it. Young guys haven’t really changed. Kade’s exploits aren’t a secret. But I will say, he doesn’t think women are toys so much as he looks for ones who hopefully think of him as no more than a toy too.
Jared shakes his head. “I walked into that room this morning and thought she’d been…”
“Used,” I say when he trails off.
He nods.
“Kade’s never touched her,” I tell him once more. “Not like that anyway.”
His shoulders stay squared, he exhales, and he has to know that Dylan would’ve gotten into a relationship at some point. I don’t know if that’s what we have, but Jared knows—and I think he’s always known—I want everything from his daughter.
“But you know, women enjoy sex too,” I state matter-of-factly as I stand up straight. “Threesomes are fun for everyone.”
He raises a glare to me. “You trying to stay alive right now?”
I laugh, enjoying teasing him, because I’m more like my dad than I guess I knew.
I let my smile fall and look at him without faltering. “She owns me.”
He grips my shoulder and yanks me in next to him as we walk back to the kitchen. “I know what that’s like.”
I step back into the kitchen, seeing Kade popping some ibuprofen and chugging Gatorade.
Dad hands me a plate, and my stomach growls.
“Make it into a sandwich,” Kade tells me, downing some more of his drink. “I want to show you something. Come on.”
