Page 62 of Back to You
Chapter 20
We found James Bay in a small town in southern Ohio. All it took was a little sleuthing on Dane’s part, and I found myself face to face with a picture of my father. He looked far older than he should’ve—probably due to all the booze he’d consumed—but he was smiling and for some reason, it punched me in the gut.
I jerked back with a hiss. I didn’t like this idea. “Dane—”
“I’ll be right beside you the entire time,” Dane assured me. “I won’t let him do anything. I promise. If that prick so much as glares at you, I’ll fuck him up, okay?”
He exhaled slowly, moving close enough that he could loop his arms around me. He cinched me in a hug. “You don’t have to do this, but I think seeing how little power he truly has over you, will help you move past it. At the very least, you can see how little he matters to your life now.”
I grimaced. He had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. “You sound like my therapist,” I muttered under my breath, then pinned him with a look. “You promise not to leave me?” I hated sounding so pathetic. I knew that Dane would never leave me alone in a room with him, not now that he knew the truth. My stomach roiled nonetheless.
Dane cupped my face in both hands. “Never.” He uttered the word so reverently that I had no choice but to believe him. I sagged in his grip. He peppered my face with kisses.
We pulled into the gravel drive of a house that looked like it belonged on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. It was a long, white ranch-style home with cornflower blue shutters and a wide picture window across the front. The lawn was impeccably mowed and plush green. Too perfect for a man like my father. He hadn’t given a shit about our yard before, so what changed?
I wrinkled my nose in a scowl. Dane squeezed my hand reassuringly, holding it all the way up the sidewalk. We stood on the stoop, anxiety riding me hard as I reached out and rapped on the door with my knuckles. One. Two. Three times.
A little girl of five or six answered, wearing a dress covered in bright yellow sunflowers. Her brown eyes darted between me and Dane before she smiled politely at us. She looked uncertain, but definitely not unhappy. My pulse jumped in my throat, choking me.
“Mom! There’s guys at the door,” she called over her shoulder.
A moment later, a woman appeared in the doorway, shooing her daughter off. She was tall and willowy, and looked so much like my mom that it made me kind of sick. She offered a hesitant smile. “Hello? How can I help you?”
“Uh.” Great job, Hollister. “Is James Bay home?”
“No, he’s at work but he’ll be home soon. Why?” She paused, her hands knotted together in front of her. “Who are you?”
“I’m his son.”
“And I’m his boyfriend,” Dane added, as if it wasn’t obvious by the way I was clinging to his hand like it was my lifeline. Right now, it kind of was.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Oh my. Of course, come in. Have you had lunch yet? I was just about to fix sandwiches for the girls.”
I glanced at Dane. “I—”
“That would be nice, ma’am,” he said simply. “Thank you.”
“Please, call me Mary. It’s good to finally put a face with a name,” she admitted as she led us through the modestly-furnished home.
My gaze lingered on the framed photograph of my father and his new family, my stomach knotting. I didn’t care if this woman made us sandwiches or not; I wasn’t eating them unless she wanted me to puke all over her nice cream carpet.
“Were you just in town and thought you’d drop in, or…” Mary looked at me for a moment before she turned her attention to the task at hand—bologna sandwiches with mustard and mayo.
I swallowed. “We’re on a roadtrip,” I mumbled. “And it’s been a long time, so, yeah.”
Her smile was kind, though, despite my awkwardness. “Oh, no that’s perfectly okay. I honestly didn’t expect for his son to drop in after… Um. Never mind.” She shook her head, then slid a plate over to me. “Would you like some lemonade?”
“I’ll take water,” I said, my composure quickly flagging. Dane took the seat beside me. The steady press of his thigh against mine was the only thing keeping me in that chair. My mouth was as dry as a desert.
“Would you tell us a bit about yourself, Mary?” Dane asked.
She flashed a small smile. “Of course. Um, let’s see. I met James about seven years ago and we have two little girls. Mariah is five and Daisy is three. I’m homeschooling them through our church. I have a part-time job at the local library, and James works at a corporate office.” She bobbed her head in a small nod. “He’s six years sober, and—”
“Daddy’s home!” cried one of the girls—mysister—as the two of them ran down the hall to greet their father. I heard his deep chuckle, followed by squeals and peals of laughter. They were happy. He washappy.
I couldn’t breathe. My throat felt full of glass. Swallowing became impossible.
“I—” I jumped to my feet, more than ready to make my escape, when my father appeared in the doorway. We both froze. His jaw dropped as he gazed at me like he’d seen a ghost. In that moment, I kind of felt dead enough to be one.
