Page 80 of The Best of Us

I thought back to the wake, remembering when I’d been pulled into that conversation. It felt like yesterday. No parent forgets the horrible feeling of looking around and your kid’s nowhere in sight. Your stomach drops, and the blood rushes from your face, making you physically ill, as a terror like you’ve never known takes hold of you. I’d found him shortly into my search and hugged him while yelling and crying.

“You turned the corner and almost walked right into me.” Colin’s words to Constantine snapped me back to the room.

Colin curled his fingers into his palms, his hands tightening into fists as he tried to stop himself from crying just like I was.

“You stepped back before I could. Then you looked down at me, patted my shoulder, apologized, smiled, and walked away.” He finished his story, his voice breaking on those last words.

I finally managed to move and go to him instead of falling to my knees in frustration and grief. I was only human and had reached the maximum tolerance level of what I could handle. I wrapped him in my arms, but he refused to hug me back.

When it was clear it was his father he wanted, I let go of him, moving off to the side so I didn’t block his view of Constantine.

“You found me right after that,” he said without looking at me. “You were a minute too late. You would’ve seen him, and then . . .”

All theand thensfilled the space between the three of us.

And then you’d have had your father in your life much sooner.

And then maybe you’d never have been at that rave and hanging out with a gang.

If not for the wall behind me to lean against, all thoseand thenswould’ve taken me down.

“It was you, wasn’t it? I’m right. And that’s why when I saw you in the parking garage you felt familiar for some reason. And why that voice told me to take your wallet.”

Constantine remained staring at him, unreactive, probably as shocked and messed up in the head as I was. Maybe more.

“You looked right at me in that hallway, but you didn’t know it was me,” Colin whispered, giving up on fighting back tears. “You didn’t even know it was your son you smiled at.”

“I remember,” Constantine said in a low voice and began striding toward us. “I remember you.” He stopped in front of our son. “And I’m so sorry I didn’t know it was you.” He reached out for him, and shockingly, Colin stepped forward.

I slapped both hands over my mouth to stop my muffled cries from interrupting their moment.

Constantine’s large hand cupped our son’s cheek, and Colin reached up, holding his wrist while closing his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Constantine repeated, his voice hoarse and raw.

“It’s just not fair,” Colin cried. “If Mom had only come a minute sooner . . .” He blinked his eyes open. “I should have met you years ago.”

“It’s not too late for you. For us.” Constantine said what our son needed to hear, but from him this time, not me. Then he brought his other hand behind Colin’s neck and leaned forward. As he bowed his forehead against our son’s, the dam of my emotions finally broke. “Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter, do you understand me?”

“I, um . . .” Colin abruptly pushed off Constantine’s chest, forcing him to back away. Constantine stood tall again. “I need to be alone,” he said before taking off for the stairs.

I moved on autopilot to go after him, but Constantine caught my waist, halting me. He drew my back to his chest, pinning his strong forearm across my midsection. “Tell him I’m sorry again. Tell him I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice broke as if he was about to cry. “Okay?”

I turned to face him, noticing his eyes reddening, realizing Colin wasn’t the only one who needed me.

“I’ll be fine,” he said like a promise while nodding. “Unlike him, though, I really do need a minute to be alone.” His forehead tightened as he kept his eyes locked on me, a silent plea not to press. To be with our son. Then he released me and gestured with an open palm, signaling what he wanted me to do, so I relented and went after our son.

Colin’s door was locked, but it only took a minute of begging for him to open up.

He dropped on his bed, holding his head in his hands, and I quietly sat beside him, resting my cheek to his shoulder.

We sat there for what felt like forever. Not talking and not moving, just being together as I did my best to absorb his pain and take as much of it from him as I could.

Eventually, he wordlessly stood and strode over to the window, finally breaking the quiet as he gazed outside. “If Carter doesn’t like him, what does that mean?” A world of hurt clung to his tone. “Carter’sCarter, and he doesn’t like that many people, but still.” He planted his hand on the window and rested his forehead against the glass. “But then there’s Constantine. And, well, he’s my . . .” He left off the worddadas if it was too much to handle saying it out loud.

I joined him at the window, gently stroking his back, consoling him as I shared the only thing that came to mind. “I have a feeling Constantine and Carter might be a lot alike. And when you have two strong personalities like that, it makes sense they’d butt heads a little.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Kind of like you two have.”

I caught a flicker of a smile in the window’s reflection.

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