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It’s hard to interpret his look. My mind keeps conjuring an image of him brooding over a shot glass in a bar, not a coffee cup at a chain breakfast place. There’s such a heavy aura over him.
“My son has sure never cared to hear about anything I do.”
I ignore the dripping pain. I don’t think we have that kind of relationship yet, and probably he didn’t mean for the ache to slip out. “How old is your son?”
“Twenty-one.” His gaze leaves the cup and finds me. “Know what else I have?”
I lift my brow.
“A grandson.”
“No.”
“Yep.” He taps the bottom of the cup on the faux wood. “Eighteen months old. I was hoping things might be different with him, but...” His sigh makes me physically hurt.
John’s way of communication runs toward the cryptic. He drops tiny nuggets that a woman has to piece together to make a whole picture. Maybe I’m jumping too far on too little, but in this case, I’m seeing a down, regretful, lonely man.
He swigs the last of his coffee, and again, I swear if this were a movie, his drink would be something harder. “Told you I was old.”
I smile. “No, your son just got started young.”
“Nineteen. I was barely twenty myself.”
And you were younger than us all, weren’t you?I see the last part in his eyes.
“Does he live close?”
“A couple hours.”
“That’s not too bad.”
His palms thump the table. “Might as well be the moon and back.” Beneath a five o’clock shadow, his jaw tightens. “Tyler pities me with a picture of the kid once in a while.”
It’s the strangest thing. My heart speeds up, the heightened pulse thrumming in my chest and all throughout. I can’t imagine where I’d be without Jacob. If he walled me from his life…
John sips, and sets his coffee down. “Did they win tonight?”
It takes a blink for me to change conversational directions. “Jacob’s team?”
“The Lions, right?”
I nod. “Right. Yes, a friend who got to go to the game texted before I left work.”
“Guess that means Jacob will be in a good mood when he gets home.”
I lean onto my arms. “We’ll see.”
He slants his head.
“I’m not entirely sure I’ll see him tonight. We had an argument before he left for school this morning. He informed me he was spending the night at a friend’s house. I told him no, and…it wasn’t pretty from there.”
“Why don’t you want him staying with the friend?”
I click my trimmed nails together. “I’ve learned that not all parents are particular with where there kids go and what they do. That’s how the issue with Jacob drinking evolved last year.” I learned to be cautious the hard way.
In many things.
“You’re right to be on your guard.”
