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“Hey, D-Dad,” I stutter when Ford takes a step back from the entryway and rejoins Cash in the kitchen, his cheeks flushed, his throat bobbing slightly at this unexpected guest. Our bubble-wrapped reality is starting to tear.
“Oh. Hey, Ben. Sorry… I was just swinging by on my way home to return Ford’s power drill when I saw your car in the driveway. Is everything okay?” my dad says, setting the drill down awkwardly and then running a hand through his hair. He looks guilty, probably for party crashing, but the thing is, he has nothing to feel bad about. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing to him. For what I’m doing behind his back. For what we’re all doing despite knowing what this could do to him.
“Oh, yeah, I just… Cash and Ford invited me over for dinner. A celebration for acing my midterm.”
My dad’s face falls slightly, and I suddenly feel like shit. I should have told him about my progress in school, he should have been the first one I told, but I didn’t. I didn’t eventhinkabout it.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, eyeing me, and I nod, standing up and moving to grab some wine from the fridge.
“Want to stay for dinner?” I ask, not really wanting him to, but also wanting to repair any damage I’ve done. I know my dad’s feelings are hurt. I can see it in the way he fiddles with the rings on his fingers, his eyes flicking from me to the floor and then back again.
By keeping secrets like this, I’ve hurt his heart.
Fuck. He’s been hurt enough.
Jesus, I’m a terrible son.
And don’t even get me started on whether or not he’s figured out what I’m up to behind his back. He can’t know though. He can’t. I just can’t bring myself to believe it. Because as much as I know I’m a terrible son, I can convince myself I’m not by pretending this isn’t that bad.
But if I ever see the hurt on his face, the disappointment when he finds out what I’ve done, what we’ve done, I might not survive it.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
I nod and pour him a glass, setting it next to my dad as he makes himself at home at the kitchen table.
“Where’s Avery?” I ask, trying to distract him slightly. I don’t want him to overthink this situation too much. It is kind of odd that I’m here. If he really did examine it too closely, he’d start to get suspicious.
“He’s out with friends.” My dad eyes me again and then shrugs. “He can do what he wants.”
“Of course he can,” I reply when Ford and Cash set the caprese salad on the table.
“Don’t eat it all, you lug,” Ford says, and my dad beams up at him.
“Fancy,” my dad says, reaching out and snagging some bread, plopping some mozzarella and a tomato onto it. He shoves it in his mouth sloppily, chews, and swallows, and then sits back and sighs.
“It’s been a hell of a long time since we all hung out. I’ve missed it.”
“Me too, man,” Ford says, and Cash nods.
“Life keeps getting in the way, and now that you have Avery as a roommate, you’ve been busy.” The way Cash says that makes my cheeks heat. I don’t want to think about my dad doing any of that. Nope. No siree.
My dad smirks and then loads up another piece of bread with cheese, shoving it in his mouth and then sipping his wine. “Maybe after dinner, we can all go for a ride.”
Cash and Ford share a look, a minuscule one that only I notice.
“Yeah, we can do that,” I say, and my dad smiles as he reaches out and grabs some more food off the plate. I join in and pretty soon it’s polished off.
“Good thing we made some for us,” Cash says as he pulls out another plate from the fridge. The two of them join us at the table, and once more, we polish the caprese salad off before moving to the main course. We chat about the shop and my classes until we’re all stuffed full.
“How about a ride and then cake?” Cash offers, and we all agree, standing up and grabbing our jackets. My dad doesn’t seem to notice how I disappear into the guest room to snatch one off a hanger, and thank god for that. I don’t know how I could explain that one away.
We’re already walking such a thin rope.
Such a thin fucking rope.
Within minutes, the motorcycles are brought outside, the low rumble echoing down the street as they turn them on. I have the urge to hop on the back with Cash or Ford, would love to do that, but I know I should spend this ride with my dad.
“You ready?” he asks as he pats my hand, and I hold on tight.
