Page 28 of Shelter for Shay
“If it’s about the fact I took her out on a couple of dates, nothing happened, man. We went to dinner a couple times and a movie. That’s it. I swear.”
“She’s not your type.”
“And she’s yours?”
Moose ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “She might be, but that’s not what I want to ask you about.”
“You’ve piqued my interest.”
“What do you know about her dad?”
“Nothing,” Andy said. “According to Shay, he wasn’t from Lake George. I asked my dad if he’d ever met him, and he doesn’t even remember him. But he didn’t really know Margaret until she was working in the school system. Jared said he’d never met him, which is odd, because Jared and his family know everyone. I can’t believe he’s a grandfather.”
“I can’t believe anyone dared to ask out his daughter.”
“I work with his son-in-law, Calvin. Not a bad kid. Reminds me of my dad. Uptight and a rules guy.” Andy rolled his eyes. “But Shay’s dad is a bit of a mystery. Why do you want to know?”
“I think she’s just feeling every ounce of her mom’s death, like I’m trying to nail down the past.” He waved his finger at the bar, which was taunting him like a stray bullet. “Shay wants to know hers.”
“I know she tried to find him once and she got a name but never did anything with it. Even if she does find him, I’m not sure she’ll get the answers she wants. He left, and he’s never once come back. Never called. That speaks volumes.”
“I understand that better than most, but sometimes it’s not about the connection and simply knowing all the whys.”
“We both know biology doesn’t make the man.” Andy clapped a hand to Moose’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want me to walk in with you?”
Moose shook his head. “This one’s on me. I needed the pep talk. Now I need to finish it.”
Andy stepped back and nodded once. “Call me if you need a beer after. I’m already off duty. All I need to do is shed the uniform.”
“No offense, but I think I’d rather spend the rest of the evening with Shay.”
Andy laughed.
Moose watched him leave, then turned toward the door with his heart beating in the center of his throat.
With more than a little trepidation, he pushed open the door and immediately his nose was assaulted with a fog of smoke and cheap whiskey. Bad eighties music filtered through speakers that sounded like they were underwater. Or maybe it was just the way the bands played back then because it was exactly as he remembered.
A few biker dudes hung around the pool table, holding on to the pool sticks instead of using them to play the game. A couple of scantily dressed women hung on their arms.
The lighting in the bar was dim, and everything in it as forgettable as the thousand stories being whispered that no one wanted to tell twice.
His mom stood behind the counter like nothing had changed, wearing a low-cut shirt, no bra, her breasts half hanging outlike she were a teenager. Her hair was dyed too dark for her age, lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth, a half-burned cigarette resting in the tray near the register even though she couldn’t legally smoke inside.
As if that ever stopped her.
Her eyes met his as she wiped the counter. She paused, staring at him with a confused expression. She glanced over her shoulder, as if he were there to see someone else.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, not smiling. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Hey, Ma,” he said quietly, taking a seat at the bar.
She placed a coaster in front of him. “What can I get ya?”
“Bourbon. Neat.”
“Aren’t you a big boy.” She turned, snagged a bottle, poured a double, and set the glass in front of him. “You back for good or just came to check if I’m still breathing? Or maybe you want money. Yeah. That’s probably it.”
“Nah. I don’t need anything from you,” he said as the weight melted off his shoulders from years of holding on to stuff that meant nothing. She might have created him, but she wasn’t responsible for the person. No, Margaret had been partially responsible for that. And then he’d done the rest. “Just thought… we should talk.” He lifted the glass and took a sip. Damn cheap stuff burned going down.
