Page 49 of The Best of Us

Colin peeled free from the sanctuary of my arms, urging me to the side so he could face his dad. “English, please,” Colin said, grit in his voice and tears in his eyes.

Constantine steadily stared at him, still a block of steel and quietness. The silence seemed to stretch forever before he finally said what Colin needed to hear. “I’m your father.” The statement was framed in disbelief that matched his dark and intense gaze. He angled his head, brows slanting and eyes tightening their aim on Colin. “You’re my son,” he added in a softer voice. “And I’m so sorry I didn’t know that.”

Colin fisted the Ziploc, crumpling it in his hand as he shook it twice in the air. “I gave up on you ever coming back,” he cried, nostrils red and flaring. “I gave up on everything.” His lower lip quivered as he tried to get the words out. “And now you’re just here. Just like that,” he whispered, sniffling. “It’s too late. It’s just too late.” Tears streamed down his face, and he lifted his arm and used his sleeve to scrub them from his cheeks, momentarily covering his eyes to keep them at bay.

“No, Colin. It’s not too late.” I sprung for him, but he walked backward, lifting his hand and holding the bag between us as a barrier. “He’s here now.Youfound him. And you saved that chair for him because you didn’t give up. A part of you never did.” I licked the salty tears at my lips, dying on the inside at not being able to hold him.

“Colin.” Constantine said his name with such conviction that it had the hairs on my arms standing.

I slowly turned to look at him, but he didn’t follow up with more after that.

Colin tossed the bag onto the counter and shoved his hands into his front jean pockets, shoulders hunched forward as he worked to pull himself together without allowing my help.

“There was something familiar about you in that garage. I heard a voice in my head telling me to take your wallet, and I thought I was losing my mind. But if I hadn’t . . .” He squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head, sending fresh tears free at the movement. “You’re rich. Why’d you give a damn about tracking down your wallet? I don’t understand.”

He answered in a somber tone, “There was something inside my wallet I had to get back. Something irreplaceable. And while I didn’t hear a voice in the garage, I sure as hell felt something when I looked at you.”

His last words had Colin’s attention, and the emotion in his voice had a vise grip around my heart.

“I just . . .” Colin shook his head. “I need a minute.” He sniffled. “I’m gonna pack,” he said before taking off.

I started for him, but Constantine caught hold of me. He dropped his mouth over my ear. “Give him that minute,” he whispered before turning me around, hugging me the way I’d wanted to hug him.

My arms were pinned between our bodies, elbows tucked in and hands in prayer position, so all I could do was lean my head forward against his chest.

Lazy strokes of his hand moved up and down my spine as he cradled my head with his other, keeping me sheltered in the safety and comfort of his hold.

Seventeen years of bottled-up emotions came exploding out of me, and I let go of an even more resounding, harsher cry while also trying to silence the sound by burying my face against his chest.

“That didn’t go as I expected,” I murmured through my mess of unrelenting tears.

“I think it went how it was supposed to,” he said as he continued to soothe me, when it should’ve been me taking care of him.

After a few more minutes, I managed to pull myself together and stepped back, allowing my arms to return to my sides.

His shirt was visibly damp from my tears, but he murmured something to me in Italian before I could apologize. “Andrà tutto bene.” He drew my chin into his hand, guiding my eyes up.

“And that means?” I sucked in my wobbly lip to keep from dissolving into more tears.

“Everything’s going to be all right.”

I wanted to latch on to his words, cling to them for dear life, but before I could say anything, I realized we were no longer alone.

Constantine’s eyes were pointed behind me, and he lowered his hand as I turned to see our son there.

“Are you two together now? Like a thing?” His eyes, which I now noticed had a touch of purple forming around his right one, slipped back and forth between us with hope, not accusation.

“No, of course not,” I said as he dropped his duffel bag by his Converse.

He stared at us for another long moment, placing us under the microscope before setting his sights on Constantine. “Since you’re rich, does that mean I am, too?”

“Colin,” I snapped out in embarrassment.

“What?” He shrugged. “It’s a legit question.”

“Not appropriate,” I reminded him.

Based on a look I knew all too well on my son’s face, he had a hundred more questions burning in his mind, and his tears would take a backseat to his curiosity about his dad.

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