Page 107 of The Secret We Keep
Walking to me, he asks, “Then why have you been loitering all this time?”
I balk, offended. “Can’t a son want to hang out with his old man?”
He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back. “Ha. That’ll be the bloody day.”
Bastard.
“I mean it,” I say, tossing the tool down. “I’ve changed.”
His expression turns serious, wiping his hands on an old rag. “I know,” he says laughing. “And for the better, I might add.”
I give him a stern nod, glad that he agrees.
“But that still doesn’t mean you want to hang out with your old man just for the sake of it.”
“I do,” I counter, throwing my arms up. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Straightening his spine, he checks my expression, pausing before scratching his cheek. “Maybe you’re waiting around here because you want me to tell you what to do?”
I go to give him some snarky response but bite my tongue.
He notices, grinning at me. “That’s what I thought.”
“Alright then, so maybe I need some guidance from someone more adultier than me.”
He bats a hand, waving me off with a mocking laugh. “I don’t think that’s a word, son.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Aye. And I’m afraid I don’t have the answers you want to hear.”
Our gazes lock. “What does that mean?” I ask him, my tone turning sullen.
He stares at me. “It means that, whenever you’ve wanted something, you’ve gone out of your way to get it.”
My eyes dart away before going straight back to him.
“Didn’t matter if your mother and I said no. You wanted it. You made sure you got it. My only fear here, Paddy, lad, is your need to have the girl can’t outweighherneeds.”
My head drops. And fuck me if my eyes don’t begin to sting.
“Maybe the best thing to do is let her go?”
My jaw clenches. “I can’t do that.” My response is certain.
Pops nods and dips his head. “Then I think you should put the kettle on.”
“How’sthat going to help me?”
“It won’t. But I’m going to need a brew if I’m going to help you figure this out.”
“Wouldn’t the bottle you keep hidden in the kitchen be better?”
Checking my expression, Pops says, “Alright.” He takes a hesitant step before he turns and reaches to the top shelf in his garage. “But then your mother will see, and she’ll only bollock me for not thinking about my heart.” He pulls down a fresh bottle of Jack.
I point a finger to it as Pops unscrews the top. “It’s not your heart you need to worry about.” I pat my belly, alluding to the fact that Pops has gained some weight in the years I’ve been away.
“You little bastard. Do you want a tipple or not?”
