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“Not with my two grandkids.” He winked.
“What kind of trouble did they get into today?” I loved my nephew and niece. Well, technically she wasn’t my niece yet, but I was never one to get bogged down with technicalities.
“We’re back to avoiding the subject at hand?” Dad tilted his beer back. “Suits me.”
“I just needed some space.” I worked harder at peeling the label off in one piece. It began to rip when I had a quarter of it off.
“Living with her isn’t what you thought?”
I concentrated on the label, slowly pulling on the edge to stop the split. “No. It’s pretty much exactly what I thought.” Aside from not being able to control this need to touch her. If anything, it was getting worse. “Can we not talk about Baker?”
A smirk toyed on my father’s lips. “You pushed about Audrey and Ivette.”
“Fine. Let’s just forget about women for now.” I held up my bottle. “Want another?”
“Please.” He handed me his empty.
I paused in the doorway to the kitchen. “You aren’t the same without Mrs. Quinn.” Now that he’d confessed he’d let her go, it was painfully obvious he was struggling.
Plates clattered from the dining room as I disposed of our bottles in the recycling bin. I opened the fridge and pulled out two more. Dad dropped our dishes in the sink.
“No, I’m not,” he admitted through a stiff jaw. “But I’ve made my bed.”
“Just want you to be happy, Dad.” I held the fresh beer bottle in front of him.
He took it greedily from my hands. “Why do all my children keep saying that to me?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“If all of you are happy, then so am I.” He meant it. I knew that with everything I was. But there was a halo of loneliness around him that burned brighter than it had before I’d left for Wyoming.
“Call her.” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut when I knew he was being a fool not to try with Mrs. Quinn.
He hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me in. “Have I told you how glad I am to have you home?”
“Once or twice.” I hugged him back. The man told me every single day in some way, shape, or form. I was glad to be back too. “Mind if I crash here tonight?”
“You never have to ask.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and shoved it back where it came from.
“More lady friends?” I teased.
His eyes looked haunted. “No. Your mother.”
“What does she want?” I couldn’t hide my disbelief. The little boy in me clapped with hope that they might get back together. But the man in me was worried for my father.
“I can’t imagine after nearly forty years.” He leaned against the counter for support. “But she’s reminded me why I can’t be with Audrey. I can’t go through that hurt again.”
“Dad.”
Wariness was in his eyes. “Your mother surfacing has brought it all back up again. I—I just can’t.”
I hated the pain radiating from him. His struggle was palpable, and I wanted to take it away, but didn’t know how. My mother had dredged up things that were better left alone, even if it was hard.
“Why did she leave right after I was born? Is it because she didn’t want more kids?”
He slammed his beer down and took me by the shoulders, shaking. “She left because of me, son. Don’t you ever think otherwise. Ever.”
