Page 110 of The Sculptor

And he deserved time with his mother without interruptions.

They both did.

That doesn’t mean I wasn’t about to lose my mind, waiting for them to return.

“Have a drink before you start crying and make it awkward for everyone,” Vance says on the other end of the phone. “I can feel the anxiety from here.”

I pace up and down the dock. “What all did you say when you groveled to Halle?”

He snorts. “I didn’t grovel. I put her ass in the car and threatened Remington to get in behind her.”

“That’s not the way I heard it went down.” I chuckle, knowing good and damn well my brother begged for Halle’s forgiveness. He can try to act all badass, but I know he did what I’m about to do—plead.

“Well, you already know that kid of yours lies. I don’t know why you think he would tell you the truth of what went down that day I found them in California.”

I would argue that Remington isn’t a liar but considering Vance and I just figured out the birthday Remington gave us was not accurate—because I know with certainty when the little shit was born, and it wasn’t in the summer—I have no defense. He is hiding something. The question is what.

Vance’s SUV pulls into the driveway, and I nearly drop the phone. “I gotta go,” I tell Vance with urgency. “Any last advice?”

He sighs like this is the stupidest conversation he’s had all year. “Beg—on your knees.”

Then he hangs up like he just didn’t admit that he begged. Put her in the car, my ass…

Pocketing my phone, I walk up the hill to the driveway, watching Remington open Ray’s door and help her out. It feels weird when this sense of pride swells in my chest. That’s my son—and my wife. And no matter if I spend the next month on my knees, groveling, I won’t let us be torn apart again.

I will do what I must—even if that means tossing Ray into the snake-infested lake she fears until she agrees to give me another chance. I’m not above stooping low.

I reach the driveway and slow my pace when Ray turns, seeing me for the first time since she received that letter about Remington. Her face softens, and her eyes sparkle in the evening light.

“Well,” I prompt, “did he like your road trip concoction?”

She fights back a smile when Remington makes this disgusted sound deep in his throat. “He said it wasn’t that bad.”

I look at Rem for confirmation.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not getting involved.” He squeezes Ray in a hug and kisses the top of her head. “Remember, all you need to do is holler, and I’ll hold him down.” He cuts me an amused look. “No one ever has to find his body.”

Great, one day with Ray, and she’s already charmed him.

I’m not even mad.

“Act right, Pops.” He starts walking back toward the door.

“Where’re you going?”

He flips me off. “To check out the house—unless you want me to stick around and film the tears for Vance-hole. It’d make for a great birthday gift.”

I clear my throat, knowing he’s probably serious. “Absolutely. Go check out the house.”

He grins like the little demon he is before he disappears into the cabin where we brought him into the world. Just seeing him walk in there is enough to capture mine and Ray’s attention for several minutes.

“He’s the most perfect boy I’ve ever known,” Ray finally says with a weak voice.

“Eh,” I shrug, only half-joking when I say, “you’ll change your mind once you get to know him better.”

At the mention of me knowing him better, Ray tenses. Immediately, I realize my mistake, and I panic, dropping to my knees just like Vance told me. “I know what the letter said, but you have to know, Ray, I had no idea who Remington was.”

I chance looking up and meeting her eyes—her very amused eyes—and pause. “Keep going,” she encourages after I just kneel there and blink. “It looks like you’ve prepared this speech, so you might as well finish it.”

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