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“Oh yes. Two or three, at least. Even four or five. I want a big family filled with laughter. I grew up with not a lot of connections, other than my mom. I want to build a big family.”
Me too, Haze.
I want to build that big-ass family with you.
I didn’t say that, obviously. It seemed a little too forward.
“Excuse me! Excuse me! Are you Ian Parker?” a voice said from behind me.
Shit.
I kept walking. Max had instructed us that if we were ever seen in public and not interested in being approached, we were to keep walking at a normal speed and act as if we weren’t who we were.
“Did someone spot you?” Hazel asked.
“Yeah, but I’m going to play it cool and loop around back to the hotel. It’s fine.”
“Excuse me! Please! You’re Ian Parker, right?” another voice said. This time it was a male’s voice. Most of the time it was women who called out to us, so the deep manly tone threw me for a loop.
“Nope, not Ian,” I called out, keeping my pace.
“It is you!” the woman said. “It’s Ian! I can tell. Ian Carter, it’s us.”
I paused my steps as my middle name rolled off the woman’s tongue.
That was a new one to me. The last person who had called me Ian Carter was my—
I turned around to see the two people following me, and I felt as if I’d been sucker punched the moment I locked eyes with them both.
“I’m going to have to call you back, Hazel,” I murmured, hanging up the phone. My lips parted as shock rocked throughout my whole body. “Mom? Dad?”
They looked broken down and tattered, but it was them. Her eyes matched my eyes; his frown matched my frown.
Mom raked her hands through her thinning hair, gave me a bright smile, and said two words as if she hadn’t been missing from my life for the past fourteen fucking years. “Hey, baby.”
31
IAN
Hey, baby.
Out of all the words I’d thought I’d hear my mother say after fourteen goddamn years,Hey, babyweren’t among them. MaybeHey, Ian. Sorry for abandoning you and, oh, I don’t know, fucking up your mind for fourteen years.OrHey, son. Sorry about missing those fourteen birthdays.OrHey, son. Still a fan of those Dallas Cowboys?
Honestly, I’d thought I’d hear anything else in the whole fucking world other than those two words.
I didn’t know how it happened, but somehow the three of us ended up sitting inside a diner down the street. It was as if I were moving on autopilot—too stunned to realize what exactly was happening before me. The two of them went ahead and ordered pretty much everything on the menu and stuffed their faces as if they hadn’t eaten in years.
I hadn’t an appetite at all.
“We just wanted to thank you for meeting with us tonight, son,” Dad said, tossing a few fries into his mouth. His foot tapped repeatedly against the tiled floor. He wore a worn-down winter coat with holes in it and a winter hat. He had a beard that hadn’t been trimmed in God knew how long, and he couldn’t stop ... fidgeting. I didn’t even know if he knew he was fidgeting so much, but he hadn’t stopped.
Mom was the same way, but her movements were not as intense as Dad’s.
They looked ... fucking awful.
As if they’d left Eres and had been riding the shit train ever since.
It was clear they were still using, and that broke my heart. I’d figured one of two things had happened since they’d left: (a) they’d overdosed and lost their lives, or (b) they’d found their way to living a happy, clean life and just left me in the past.
