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“And Conan!” he exploded. “What thefuckis wrong with you, Fletcher? Were you so focused on rebelling that you fucked my best friend? Because Iknowit had to be you. Conan wouldneverbetray me like that without you working your way under his skin.”
I reared back from my phone as if it were a snake. It slipped from my fingers, but Conan quickly caught it. As soon as he caught my phone, he was pulling it up to his ear.
“Are you out of your fucking mind, Tyler?” Conan barked into the phone. “How fuckingdareyou talk to Fletcher like that? He’s capable of making his own decisions and chasing his own fucking dreams. What you want for him isn’t what’s right for him just because youthinkit is.”
Dad said something I couldn’t hear, but I could hear how loud he was yelling. “No, go fuck yourself, Tyler. For you to eventhinkyour son would purposely turn me against you is fuckingbullshit. Don’t fucking call him again unless you’re ready to issue a goddamn apology.”
With that, Conan hung up the phone right in the middle of my dad yelling. My lips trembled, tears burning in my eyes. Having Dad angry or disappointed in me never hurt any less.
“Why does he always think the worst of me?” I croaked.
Conan shoved my phone into his pocket before dragging me into his arms. I wound my arms around his waist, a tear running down my cheek. My chest tightened, but the scent of Conan kept me mostly calm, warding off my panic attack.
“He’s being a dick, Fletcher.”
“He hates me,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Conan buried his face in my curls. “Your dad can never hate you, baby. Trust me on that. I’ve known Tyler my entire life, and he’s always been a hot-headed mother fucker. He’ll come around.”
It sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Instead, it felt like Dad had finally broken something in me.
Because his words proved he’dneverbelieved in me. And thathurt.
9
Conan
Iwas sitting on the front porch with a steaming mug of coffee when Tyler pulled into the front yard. I heaved a sigh. He’d told me yesterday he was coming home and “sorting this mess out”, which I assumed meant he was going to take Fletcher back home with him and try to “fix” him.
He could try. Oh, he could damn well do that. But he would fucking fail.
There was nothing wrong with my boy. Fletcher deserved to be happy, and it was time Tyler stopped shoving his dreams and unrealistic expectations down his son’s throat and let him just live his life.
“Where is he?” Tyler asked as soon as he slid out of the driver’s seat. He shut his car door as I made my way off the porch, quietly shutting the screen door behind me so it wouldn’t slam and wake up Fletcher. He’d spent the entire rest of the day yesterday upset and miserable. He needed his rest.
“First thing you’re going to do is lower your voice,” I told him. “Fletcher is sleeping, and I’m not going to be fucking happy if you wake him up. He’s had a rough last few days, and he deserves some peace and quiet for a little while.”
“He rope you into protecting him?” Tyler snapped at me.
“You fucking kidding me right now?” I growled at him. “Go fuck yourself, man. You haven’t been right since Cassidy passed away.” Tyler flinched at the mention of her name. “But man, you’ve got to let go of that hurt, or you’re going to suffocate Fletcher to the point you destroy your relationship with him. Do you want that? Do you want to lose your son?”
Tyler frowned at me. “Of course, I don’t, Conan. But this iswrong.”
I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “Give me one good reason why it’s wrong, and I’ll leave him be,” I told him. “But if it’s a bullshit excuse, then you can fuck right off with that shit.”
“What are people going to think of him?” Tyler snapped, gesturing in the general direction of the house. “I know you’re a good guy, Conan, but society doesn’t know that. They’re going to see the two of you together and assume he’s a gold-digging, spoiled brat. Do you want that for him?”
“Someone’s got only one time to talk sideways out their mouth about him, and it’ll be the last time they ever judge someone,” I promised him. “Fletcher is capable of taking care of himself, Tyler. And I don’t think you’re ready to face that yet. You’re holding on as tight as you can, and he’s being squeezed so tightly, he feels like he’s got no breathing room.”
“I don’t—”
“You do,” I corrected him. “He’s got dreams, Tyler. Big dreams. Do you know how much graphic designers make? He can build his own business from the ground up if he wants to. The career you want for him would require him to be out and about and constantly deal with people, and he’s not made for that kind of shit, Tyler. You’ve got to stop shoving your dreams down his throat and let him live his life.”
Tyler leaned back against his car. “Fuck,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. The anger seemed to evaporate within moments. I relaxed my shoulders. “I said some shit to him yesterday that I can’t take back.” He looked up at me. “How angry is he?”
I scratched at the beard on my chin. I’d thought about shaving this morning before coming outside for my morning cup of coffee but had decided against it. The way Fletcher had moaned beneath me as my beard rubbed over his skin last night was pushing me to keep it. Might take a bit to get used to, but it’d be worth it.
“He’s not angry, Tyler. He’s upset. He fucking cried yesterday.” I sighed. Tyler flinched. “Fletcher loves you, Tyler. And that love is going to turn him into a shell of himself if you don’t open your eyes and see what you’re doing to him.”
