“Please—”
Delete.
“I know you’re?—”
Delete. Again.
I kept going like that before hesitating on one.
I should’ve hit delete without listening, but the urgency in his voice got to me.
“Greer, sweetheart,please. It’s Christmas. I want to see my only child. I… I don’t know when that’ll be an option again. I wanted to talk to you in person, but you and the house arrest ankle monitor aren’t leaving me much choice here.” He let out a sigh that wasn’t frustrated or annoyed. It was devastating. Shaky and filled with so much sadness. “I’m pleading guilty. My lawyer thinks she can get me a good deal, but even if she can’t…” Another heavy pause. “I just don’t want to put you and your mother through anymore. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your old man really made a mess of things. I know you’re mad. I understand. Just, please.Please, let me see you. I love you, Greery greens.”
I tried to scoff at the stupid nickname that I hadn’t heard since the year I went full vegan as a kid, but it came out a choked sob.
He’s pleading guilty?
Will that still mean jail time?
There was a part of me—a big part—that had assumed he would somehow skate by unscathed. Or mostly unscathed. Sure, his practice was gone, his friendship with Maddie’s dad was nonexistent, and his marriage was definitely over.
But other than that.
I’d just figured that he could smooth talk his way out of any legal ramifications. After all, Josh hadn’t been looped into the drama, and as far as I knew, he was the one with the most proof. All Mom had—thanks to Kerri’s detective work when they thought my dad was stealing drugs for himself—were some inconsistencies. Some fudged paperwork. From the bit Josh had shared on our last phone call, what my dad was guilty of wasn’t even that bad.
Bad.
But not drug cartel bad.
I didn’t get why Dad would plead guilty when a good lawyer could probably get him out of it.
I wonder if I should ask Easton to look at the case.
I dismissed the thought immediately. Mostly. I wouldn’t have Easton do it himself. He’d already helped Maddie’s parents dissolve the practice, and I was sure there was some conflict of interest there. But I could ask him to recommend a different lawyer.
If nothing came of it, at least I would know I tried. Maybe that would loosen the guilt that squeezed my chest every time I thought about my dad.
Seeing him was probably a good idea, too.
I’m sure Tripp won’t mind the quick stop, awkward as it may be to meet my dad. Actually, I’ll ask him to wait in the car.
I’m just not ready to share… Any of it. It’s all a disaster.
Maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow.
That would be better.
Easier.
I deleted the message, finally reaching the one from my mom. I expected laughter or loud music or just a happy Christmas message.
Instead, it was tears and nearly incomprehensible, breathless rambling. “I’m the worst mom in the history of the world, and you are all alone because I left you all alone, and I am the worst, and I love you, and I’m sorry, sweetie.” There was another loud sob as the message cut off.
Oh hell.
I quickly dialed her number. It’d only been a few minutes since she’d called me, but still the phone rang and rang. I thought the voicemail was about to connect when she finally answered.
“I’m so happy you called me back,” she said by way of greeting, her tears still clogging her throat. “I don’t deserve it, but I’m so happy.”
