Page 89 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

I frown. I didn’t ask about the single part, and I don’t recall noticing a ring. Granted I was on the bewildered side of shocked at the time, but it’s a pretty important piece of information.

“I’m not sure of her relationship status.” And my news is more daunting than that. I’ve got the heavy ball in my hands, testing the weight, deciding if there’s a way to toss it that will hurt my family less. Unlikely. “Sadie has a child. A boy. His name’s Max, and he’s Desmond’s son.”

Mom gasps. Jake stares at me like he wants to crush my head with his eyeballs. Cal’s face slackens, and Lennon. I haven’t seen him cry once since leaving Windfall. He’s acted weird and cagey and generally pissed at times, but I’ve never seen his eyes glass over like this. Tears don’t spill over, but his face trembles, which would normally make my face tremble, but that numbness creeps through my body, spreading wider. This must be what happens when you’ve reached your pain threshold. The excruciating agony kills your nerve endings, deadens your emotions.

“Fuck.” Lennon bends forward, shoving his face toward his knees. “Motherfucking fuck.”

Cal wraps his arm over him, tries to shield him from what this means for Desmond, but Cal’s expression is severe, sharp. Our fixer’s nowhere in that angry glare.

Jake shoots to his feet and paces. He jams his hands through his hair, muttering fiercely under his breath, then he goes to the wall and punches it.

“Jake!” Mom runs to him.

My stomach lurches. Apparently I can still feel.

Jake swivels around, wrathful, holding his hand awkwardly. “I will kill our father. Honest to God, I will drive to wherever he moved and bludgeon that disgusting excuse for a human to death.”

“No one’s killing anyone.” Cal, of course, tries to diffuse, but there’s no compassion or calmness in his voice. He wants to kill our father too. As do I. I have no underlying affection for Raymond S. Bower. No lingering little-boy wish to reconnect with my dad.

Lennon lifts his blotchy face, wipes his nose on his arm. “That man should’ve been tried and convicted and tossed in jail. I’m all for the killing.”

The venom in Lennon’s tone isn’t surprising, but it makes me sadder. Of all of us, he was closest to Dad growing up.

Mom doesn’t bother tempering their threats. She’s checking Jake’s hand, occasionally wiping the tears pushing from her devastated eyes. Cal and Lennon are wax sculptures of themselves—faces frozen in expressions of matching despair, skin red and shiny with rage. And here I am, watching it all, eyes stinging and gut twisting, but I’m not verging on an inburst or an outburst. I’m not an animal version of myself, mutated, vulnerable, the rocks in my heart grinding painfully. That numbness is doing its job, and I’ve known the news longer than them. I’ve had days to go through my cocktail of emotions, but there’s something else at play here.

Something deeper holding me together.

For weeks, I’ve purged my lingering anger and heartsickness into my graphic novel. I didn’t get the whole story right. Not Delilah’s portion, at least. But maybe that outlet wasn’t just a way to document my story for her as I first thought. Maybe those pages were the valve I’ve needed all these years. My way of downgrading the pressure, releasing enough steam so I don’t burst.

Aside from a few sessions at our Safesite, none of us boys attended therapy. There was no point. We weren’t allowed to talk about our situation. A decade later, I’m finally drawing, writing, purging. I’ve talked about my ordeal at length with Delilah. Even with a broken heart, I can stand here for the first time and be the strong one for my family.

Channeling my inner Captain Jake, I take Mom’s spot in front of the TV and survey the wreckage that is the Bower clan. “We need to find Des. The best way is to divide and conquer. We’ll start by making a list of any people who know him and places he’s worked or visited. We’ll divide up the list and drive around, make calls. Lennon, you had a beer with him at his last job, right?”

Lennon blinks at me, the glassiness in his eyes dissipating. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“The scar on his lip looks off, doesn’t it?” Cal elbows Lennon, mock whispering in his ear. “He could be an impostor. The cartel infiltrating our ranks.”

I give them the finger and look to Mom for sanity. “In the early days, you had an emergency contact list, right? We could see if he’s visiting any of his old friends.” A.k.a. couch surfing with his drinking buddies.

She nods a few times, barely looking at me. “I’ll find it. He also used to show up unexpectedly at the coffee shop near my apartment. He hasn’t done that in a while, but I’ll make sure I go there every day.” While her voice is steady, her expression’s dazed, like she doesn’t recognize me either. Or maybe she doesn’t recognize her horrible life. “Did you meet him?” she says, searching my face. “The boy?”

Her grandson. She doesn’t say the word. I can’t imagine how hard it is for her learning she’s had a grandson for nine years and has never met him. “Briefly,” I say gently. “But he didn’t know who I was. Sadie prefers to introduce him to Des before he meets us properly, unless this takes too long. Max looks like him, though. Has Desmond’s eyes.”

Mom ducks her head, shading her face with her hand. Jake tries to hug her from behind, but she shakes him off and walks toward the windows, wrapping her arms around her stomach, giving us her back. I hate Dad all over again for hurting her, being so reckless with our lives, but there’s no going back and murdering him in his sleep.

Jake mumbles words I can’t decipher, but his savage expression indicates they aren’t kind. “There’s a massive problem with your plan, E.”

Of course there is. It starts with a D, ends with a D, and rhymes with Shmesmond. “I know Des won’t be easy to find.”

“That’s not it,” Lennon says, adopting his full-body hipster smirk. His default setting when stressed. “He means we need code names and walkie-talkies.”

Jake glares at him. “You’re my second-favorite brother, but you and your stupid jokes are half the reason Des is gone right now.”

Lennon balks. “Who’s your first favorite?”

“Me,” Cal and I say in unison, then shoot each other competitive looks.

Ignoring us, Jake clacks his teeth together and directs his fury at me. “You didn’t find out if Sadie’s single. If Des learns he’s had a kid for nine years and that the love of his life is happily married to some other guy, do you think he’ll be all ‘Hey, that’s so great for you. I can’t wait to get to know my son, who some other fucker raised, so I can be a weekend dad in this super fun, super functional blended family’?”