I sit quietly, drawing on more patience than I actually fucking possess and wait him out.
Finally, he looks at me, still with that angry glint in his eyes. “I didn’t start it, but I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
I don’t reply to that. I simply watch him in silence, waiting for him to say what I’m looking for him to say.
Another minute passes before his nostrils flare and he says, “Fine, I’ll own it. I chose to get involved in that fight.”
“Why?”
“Because Alec was defending his girlfriend and I agreed with that.”
“What was he defending her for?”
“Wesley Hardcourt has been telling everyone that Alec’s girlfriend is DTF anyone looking for it while trash-talking her all over the place. He’s thrown so much shade this week that Alec couldn’t just stand back and do nothing.”
It’s only thanks to Lily keeping up with teen slang that I know what the fuck DTF and throwing shade means.
Before I have a chance to say anything, Travis says, “You would have done the same thing in my place. I know you would have.”
He’s right; I would have.
And this is where parenting becomes fucking difficult.
I nod. “I’ve never lied to you, Travis, and I won’t start now, so yeah, I probably would have. I’ve done a lot of shit I shouldn’t have in my time. But here’s the thing—I’ve always paid the price for every action I’ve chosen. And sometimes, the price has beensteep.” I pause and watch him intently for a moment. “That’s where you’re at now in your life. You’ve gotta start deciding if you really want to pay the price for the things you choose to do. And then, you’ve gotta see that through.” I pause again. “Do you understand what I’m saying here?”
He thinks about that for moment before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Tell me what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying that I have to take responsibility for my actions and that sometimes shit’s gonna hurt depending on what I choose to do. I get it, Dad. And helping Alec was worth it.”
Fuck, he truly is my son.
I would have helped a friend defend his girlfriend, and I would have believed the consequence worth it too.
“Tell me that you’ll think beyond detentions and suspensions, though, Travis. That you’ll think about how the consequences of today’s actions will affect your future possibilities in life. I might have made the same choices you did, but I didn’t have the same options in life that you have. You need to remember what you’ve got on the table with your football and with your education.”
He glances at the floor again, but only for a moment before meeting my gaze and nodding. “I’ll think about that stuff.”
I place my hand on his shoulder. “Good.” I let him go and stand. “Now, your mother’s got a list a mile long for us to work through tonight and I don’t want to hear a word of complaint about any of it.”
He groans but he doesn’t complain. Instead, he stands and says, “Are you really not going to let me go to that party?”
I don’t bother answering that question. I just arch my brows at him and then exit his bedroom. He follows me out, grumbling a bunch of words that he knows I won’t tolerate once we’re standing in front of his mother. He gets them all out of hissystem on the walk down the hallway, and by the time we meet Lily in the kitchen, he’s got his shit together.
Lily glances between me and Travis. I know she’s assessing the situation, so I give her a quick nod to let her know it went well. Her shoulders relax and she smiles. She then goes back to the list she’s scribbling shit onto at the kitchen island.
Travis sticks his head in the fridge and spends a long fucking time searching for something in there at which point Lily looks at him and says, “If you eat anything from that fridge that you shouldn’t, there will be hell to pay.”
Travis swings his head around to meet her gaze. “How am I supposed to know what I can’t eat from here?”
Lily gives him a pointed look. “You’re not an idiot, Travis. You know what’s in there for the party. And anyway, dinner isn’t far away. You can wait to eat.”
Travis groans. “But I’m hungry now.”
I move to the fridge and close the door. “You heard your mother.”
“Mum,” Meredith says, joining us in the kitchen, wearing a short, tight black dress that’s missing a fuckload of the material that should be covering her stomach. “What do you think of this dress for tomorrow?”
