Page 45 of Wreckage of My Life
“Fucker,” is all I mumble before grabbing the tequila and throwing it back like water.
“Be careful,” he mutters in the corner of his mouth as he leans over the hard surface, pretending to wipe it clean.
I don’t respond or show any sign of having heard him, just stare right ahead, empty shot glass in hand.
“Shortie’s been looking into things,” he continues, scrubbing relentlessly at an invisible spot close to my elbow. This dude should’ve been a mime because I swear I can’t even see his lips moving when he speaks. “Me and Sully are on it too.”
A glance to the side confirms the fact that Snake is not as drunk as he was acting only few minutes ago. He is watching me quietly, like he’s waiting for me to fuck up.
I drop the shot glass to the wooden surface of the bar top and turn around to go to my room.
“Dylan,” I hear a squeaky voice calling my name just as I’m about to pass the table where Ma was trying to feed Ethan. I turn surprised eyes that way. I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s called for me without anyone prompting him to.
“What’s up, buddy?” I drop to my hunches in front of him, trying to keep my face from frowning at him. I feel confused and conflicted every time I look at him, but at the same time, I don’t want him to grow up thinking I don’t want him. Fuck, what a conundrum. And now I go and use words likeconundrum. That ain’t right.
“Unka Wyatt say he coming,” he sniffles out.
“Yeah, bud,” I assure him. “He did say that.”
“With Ali,” he continues to prod, hoping that he’ll get his way.
“Sure thing, bud.” I feel a painful pang in my chest when I realize that I want to hold him. Better yet, I’d like for him to want to give me a hug. Like he does with Wyatt. All the fucking time they did that while we were up there.
“Grandma,” he sticks a thumb in his mouth and starts sucking, pointing at my mom with his other hand.
“Yep,” I nod, confused now about where we’re going with this conversation. “That’s your grandma.” Ma lets out a soft sob from her spot at the table. She’s been trying so hard to make Ethan like her, and the fact that he didn’t want to have much with her just broke her heart.
What he says next almost doesn’t register. It comes out so smoothly and quietly, but it also sounds so right in the weirdest way.
“Dad,” he mumbles around the thumb that’s in his mouth and points at me with his free hand.
“Dylan,” Ma whimpers and starts rubbing large circles on my back. “He called you…”
I cut her off. “I heard.”
My eyes feel inexplicably wet. I don’t understand the rush of emotion running through me at hearing such a simple word. Something shifts inside my chest.
“Can I have a hug?” I surprise myself by asking. He shocks the shit out of me when he nods in agreement and puts his free arm up for me to pick him up.
He never takes the thumb out of his mouth. This must be another way he’s coping with the trauma of being uprooted from everything he knew. He puts his free arm around my neck and rests his head on my shoulder, just like I saw him doing countless of times with Wyatt.
My hand feels huge on his small back as I press him against my chest, and, without meaning to, my mouth falls to the top of his head where I place a soft kiss.
What the fuck am I going to do with this kid?
I catch movement in the corner of my eye and turn my head just in time to see Snake tapping something on his phone while keeping one eye on me. Puck is right behind him at the bar, seeing the same thing I am, just from a different angle. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod, then goes back to arranging random bottles on the shelves behind him.
I need to talk to Shortie and see what he’s been working on. And how does Puck know about it? If Puck is in the know, then so is Sully. That’s who I need to talk to first.
Before I do any of that, I am going to enjoy a few more seconds of the peace I find when hugging my son. Surprisingly, the only bright spot in my life right now.
20
Wrecker
“Go to Grandma now, bud,”I whisper into Ethan’s ear and let out a sigh of relief when he dislodges himself from around my neck without a fight and goes quietly into my mom’s arms.
“He’s a good boy,” she talks softly over his head, rocking him from side to side. “Just really scared.”
