Page 94 of His Sinful Need

But it has to be my own decision.

I’m so fucking lost right now.

As if in response to my thoughts, Max’s arm tightens around me in his sleep, pulling me closer. It’s a small gesture, but it gives me the strength I need to make up my mind.

I’ll go see him.

I’ll go see Dad, and I’ll go alone. I’ll do it soon as I can before I chicken out. I wrote to him when I was seventeen, told him I was gay—this was in my coming out phase, where I was determined everyone should know, not that I regretted it, only…

I got no response at all back from Dad. That was worse, in some ways, than getting something negative back. And when I got no response, I didn’t write again.

That was the last contact we had.

But I guess he’s still my dad, and maybe I owe it to myself to face up to him, show him the man I’ve become. And once I’ve closed the door on my past, maybe…

Maybe I can think about the future.

CHAPTER37

BRICKER

The next fewdays pass by fast in a mix of going over and over all the information we’ve gathered, and visiting Giddy and Nico in the hospital. Working together, Max and I managed to collect prints from the rest of the crew without them noticing—except Van’s prints.

He hasn’t been in touch.

This morning, Max slides a plate of scrambled eggs my way and I stare at them, my stomach churning.

“You sure you’re okay?” Max asks, brow furrowed.

“Fine.”

I’m not fine. I’m a mess of nerves and guilt. I looked up visiting days at the prison, and it turns out, today’s one of them. My obligatory visitor’s background check is still valid, and as a family member I get priority, so if I leave early enough today…

I’ll make it in time to see my father for the first time in over a decade.

I told Max I was going to track down Van, try to talk to him—and get his prints. It’s not a complete lie. After I see Dad, I’ll give Van a call, invite myself over to his place to talk.

But I’m not ready to talk to Max about my father. Not yet.

“Like I said, you should call Jack while I’m out,” I tell him. “Get him over here to collect the fingerprints.”

Max doesn’t seem completely convinced that I’m alright, but he lets it go with a nod. “We’ve come a long way since you were locking me up each night to keep me away from my own Family. I even get to use a phone, now.”

I give a strained laugh. “Well…a lot’s changed.”

Max gives a slow nod. “You’re not wrong. Listen, Bricker, when this is over, we need to talk about a few things.”

Joy and panic war within me. I swallow hard and meet his gaze. “Yeah. We do.” But he looks so damn serious that I come over and kiss him quickly, before he even realizes what I’m doing. He smiles after, pulls me back in for a hug. For a moment I let myself get lost in the familiar warmth of his embrace.

“I gotta get moving,” I say a few seconds in, pushing away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

* * *

The prison stands squat and wide before me, stark concrete and barbed wire under an obstinately cheerful blue sky. Of all the days it should be raining, surely this is one? But the weather cleared up after Rook’s funeral. I sit in the visitors’ parking lot, white-knuckling the steering wheel, torn between facing my father and driving away as fast as I can.

It’s been a long time, Dad.

No, that’s a shitty opening line. But I can’t think of any better. Maybe when I get in there, inspiration will hit. I get out of the car, steel myself, and walk through the entrance. I get checked off on a list and then a guard pats me down with impersonal efficiency and leads me to the visitation room, an open room with plastic tables and chairs bolted to the floor, the seats already crowded with other visitors, other prisoners.

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