Page 22 of A Taste of Whiskey
“Hi, son,” his father said, dark eyes serious. “How’re you tonight?”
Son.He longed to be pulled into an embrace or something—anything—to make him feel like that endearment meant something more than a simple word to separate him from all the other guys his father kept at arm’s length. “I’m good. You?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Hey, Ezra. How’s your boy doing?” Otto asked, as boisterous as always.
“He’s great. Getting bigger every day.”
“You going out with the guys while he’s with Tina?” his father asked.
“No. She couldn’t take him tonight. He’s with Sasha.”
His father’s brows slanted, but he didn’t say a word.
Ezra was used to the uncomfortable silences with his father in situations that might evoke certain emotions and conversations with other people. Every time he’d tried to talk with his father about relationships, whether it was theirs, his parents’, or his relationship with Tina, his father shut down. Even when he and Tina were going through their divorce, his father had never offered any advice or even condolences. It had gotten so frustrating, Ezra had finally stopped trying to talk to him about it. Now he and his father existed in some sort of middle ground that his father found safe or comfortable, and Ezra simply found a shame. He knew Pep wasn’t good at handling his feelings, but he also knew their relationship would never fully heal until they talked about what had gone wrong in their own family.
“Par for the course with that one,” Otto said. “It’s a shame her priorities are so messed up. How’d Gus handle it?”
“He’s been through it so often, he takes it in stride.” But it was getting harder for Ezra to turn the other cheek.
“You’re a better man than I am,” Otto said. “I would’ve given her hell by now.”
“You think I haven’t?” He had, many times, but he had to be careful, because he’d always believed that it was better for Gus to have some time with his mother than none at all.
“Well, if she can’t take him this weekend, you bring him to Grandpa’s house,” his father said. “I’d love to have more time with him.”
“Will do. Need anything, Pep?” Ezra always asked, despite the response always being the same. He didn’t begrudge Gus’s time with his grandfather, but at times like these, he’d give anything to hear,Yeah, son. Have time for a talk?He knew that day would never come, but he couldn’t get himself to stop trying.
His father shook his head. “Everything’s good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’d love to treat you to lunch or a drink sometime.”
“No need for that. We’ll get together with Gus,” his father said.
“Right. Have a good night.” Ezra headed out the front door.
Rebel was standing by his motorcycle, looking down at his phone. His dark hair shielded his face, but he bit out a curse as Ezra walked by.
“Hey, everything okay?” Ezra asked.
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “It’s just my brother Dallas warning me that my family’s coming for Dare’s wedding. I don’t need their pressure right now.”
Rebel’s father was the founder of a Dark Knights’ chapter in Upstate New York, and Rebel had married the vice president’s daughter, Sailor Wicked, when he was too damn young to be sayingI do. He’d come to Colorado to stay with his cousins a few years ago, after going through a messy divorce. He’d bent Ezra’s ear about the situation from time to time, and two things were clear. He still wasn’t over his ex, and his family wanted him back on home turf.
“I’ve got the time if you want to talk,” Ezra offered.
“Thanks, but I think I’d rather fuck or drink this frustration away.” He pocketed his phone.
“All right, but if you drink it away, don’t climb back on that bike. Call me if you need a ride.”
Rebel cracked a grin. “I plan to go with option number one, but if that fails, I’m not dumb enough to drink and drive. I’ll get a ride, or you’ll get a call. Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.” As Ezra climbed onto his bike, he wondered which was worse, having a family like Rebel’s, that was always up in his business, or a father who wanted nothing to do with it at all.
Chapter Six
WHEN EZRA GOT home from church, his two-bedroom cabin smelled feminine, sweet, and too damn good. It was a scent he knew well. One that had permeated his life for years. It was the scent of Sasha, and it instantly revved him up and calmed his soul. He put his helmet in the closet by the door, taking in the crayon drawings and Lego dinosaurs on the coffee table, which Sasha and Gus must have made, and Gus’s tiny guitar lying next to Sasha’s larger one on the couch. She’d surprised Gus with that guitar last year, when he’d begged her to teach him how to play. Gus’s bedroom door was closed, and he heard the clink of silverware on a dish coming from the kitchen. As he made his way to the kitchen, he felt a familiar tug in his chest. This was the homelife he’d envisioned for his son. Being raised by two people who adored him in a home where he felt safe, surrounded by more family than he could ever want. But while Gus had most of those things, Ezra and Sasha were an impossibility.
