Page 39 of Doyle

I clutched my sides, trying to anchor myself.

I didn't know how much time had passed, how much time I had wasted lost in my own past, but I heard the front door opening, followed by voices.

I sat up, reaching for the bat, thinking the driver had returned, but I relaxed a little when I recognized the voices of my dad and Stan.

I was still standing, holding onto my pathetic little weapon when a knock came on my door.

My dad entered, looking completely hammered, but seeing me, he sobered up.

"Michael, why are you holding a bat?" he asked.

I let go of the bat and, without knowing why, I ran up to him and hugged him.

He hesitated, then returned the hug. He smelled of booze and smoke, but underneath that, he also smelled like my dad.

Home. Tears started to well up, and I didn't know why I was crying—or maybe I did.

Maybe in my own naive way, I had figured that once I was back in Oak Meadow, I would be untouchable.

That I could just leave the past behind.

The moment I let my guard down, that illusion of safety was shattered. Somehow, Liliana’s people had managed to track me down.

Then again, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out where I would return to, would it?

Either way, I wasn’t certain why they would come back for me. It wasn’t like I was important.

Familiars came and went. But Liliana kept you alive, a dark voice inside me whispered.

What if she had a special purpose for you?I shuddered, not wanting to think about that further.

"Michael, calm down. Tell me what happened,” he said.

Somehow, he persuaded me to sit down.

I babbled, unsure if he could understand what I was saying. Eventually, I showed him the letter and his face hardened.

"Dad, I think we need to call Doyle," I whispered.

"Michael," he said, kneeling down so he was looking at me at eye level.

He continued, “We don't need Doyle. I meant what I said this afternoon. If these bastards come back for you, I'll handle all of them myself. You hear? This time, I won't let them take you away from me, son."

I stared into his eyes, seeing the fierce determination there. But it wasn't just determination; it was fear, too. Fear of losing me again.

He might not understand everything I'd gone through, but he understood enough to know that I needed protection.

And for the first time, I saw that his bravado was just that—a front.

Behind it all, he was just as scared as I was. When I was a kid, I always thought of him as infallible—a rock I could always depend on.

He was my hero, my protector, the one who could chase away the monsters under my bed.

But after being in Liliana’s world and then Doyle’s, I realized how small we truly were in the grand scheme of things.

It was a harsh reality to accept.

"Okay, Dad," I said, trying to prevent my voice from trembling. "But if things get bad, we need to call Doyle. Please."

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