Page 34 of Gray Area

“You did good, little man,” Slade says, going over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, quick thinking, Roman,” I say, chuffing his cheek. I exchange looks with Axel, and he goes over to Roman, whispering something in his ear. Roman releases Slade and latches on to Axel, who stands and takes Roman into the kitchen, Slade following behind them.

My dad doesn’t like fuss or attention. And we all know it. Roman, however, lives for the drama of it all, so getting him out of the room will immediately settle Dad. And once he is calm, I have a better chance of getting more information out of him.

I sit on the coffee table next to my dad. “Let me see,” I say, reaching to lift the ice pack and finding a large lump at his hairline, a small trickle of blood coming from the site. I steel myself because I know my next words are going to piss him off. “We should probably get this checked out,” I tell him.

“Fuck off. I’m not going to the hospital for a fucking bruise,” he snarls at me, expecting that to be the end of the conversation. That’s the way it’s always been. Jude Falco’s word is the end of the line. But things are changing. I know it, and he knows it. And I’ve always been told I am the one who needs to be in charge of things as the oldest son. So now my dad’s word can’t be the last say.

This is going to suck.

I heave out a sigh. “What’s going on, Dad?” I ask, not bothering to hide my exasperation.

“It’s fucking hot in here,” he bitches, turning into the grumpy old man he is whenever we question him, “and my allergies have been acting up. I got up quick for the beeping, and between theheat and the sinus shit I got dizzy and tripped over some god damned thing. That’s all.” I stare at my father, but he won’t meet my gaze. I know how I need to handle this. What I want to do is demand he cut the bullshit and just tell me the fucking truth, but that isn’t going to get us anywhere. This problem is a marathon, not a sprint situation. So me shouting and demanding is just going to have us butting heads.

I decide to take a different approach and lean back in my chair. “I took her out for coffee,” I mutter, a little embarrassed to be telling this to my father but finding the need to change the room’s climate. I know that me giving him a little will result in him being more likely to give some back.

“Who?” my father spits out, still geared for a fight. But I wait and watch as the realization hits him and his features relax. “Oh, Vivian?” he asks, his tone completely changing. “You finally asked her out?” my father asks, sliding his gaze to me with a smile on his face.

I shake my head. “We were meeting to work on a school thing but the library was closed. So I asked her to get a cup of coffee with me.”

My father marinates on that, nodding and smiling happily for a second. “It’s a start. How did it go? Did you set something else up, something more like a date?”

I shake my head again. “Didn’t get the chance,” I tell him. “But I think I want to.”

“What’s holding you back?” he asks.

I shrug. “She’s really closed off,” I mutter, realizing I actually need to talk this out with someone. “She gets really defensive if I ask her anything.”

“Oh, and you’re an open fucking book?” my dad jokes, laughing a little. “Sometimes people have been burned and are really selective of who they let in.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“You going to ask her out again?” Dad asks.

“I’m going to try,” I tell him.

“Well then, why didn’t you ask her tonight?” he asks me, baffled.

“I was pulled away unexpectedly,” I say. My dad opens his mouth, I’m sure to ask me by what, and then I watch as the realization comes across his face.

My father’s face shutters again. “I told you I’m fine,” he snarls between his teeth.

“I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not worried about you, Dad,” I say softly, avoiding eye contact. That would be too much, too touchy-feely for the both of us. That isn’t how we Falco men roll with each other. “I mean, you’re my dad, and I love you. So if you tell me that this fall is nothing, and that you having a hard time getting out of my car the other day is nothing, and the excuses you have been giving me for the last few months are the real deal, then I believe you. Because you’re my dad, and I have always been able to trust you.”

Yeah, I hit him right in the Dad-guilt bone. I still don’t look at him and instead study my hands I have clasped in front of me, leaving the ball in his court.

“This situation with Perez and Cruz is weighing heavy on my mind,” he says softly. “I’m stressed about it. I’m getting old, Declan, and my body can’t handle the stress anymore like it used to.”

I take it in. “Cruz is dead, Dad,” I remind him.

“Yeah, but like Perez said, he is a follower. Someone put him up to it, and he was just doing what he was told. So who is really behind that shit?” he questions. He blows out a long breath with a groan. “I am supposed to make you guys a better life than this,” he grumbles.

“Dad, we have a great life,” I remind him.

My dad shakes his head. “I promised your mother that I’d make you guys more than just some goon like I was.”

“Dad—”

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