Page 227 of Things We Hide from the Light
We’re each responsible for our own damn mess. And we’re each responsible for doing what it takes to be better. I’m starting to understand that maybe life isn’t something to get through with the least amount of discomfort possible. Maybe it’s about experiencing it all. The good, the bad, and everything in between.
Hope you’re well. Not that it should mean anything to you, not that it’s my place to say it. I’m damn proud of the man you’ve become. I’ve worried over the years that you and your brother would follow the piss-poor example I set. Hiding from the light. But that’s not who you are. You stand up for what’s right every damn day and people respect you for it. I respect you for it.
Keep being braver than me.
Yeah. I’m definitely not sending this. I sound like that Dr. Phil guy your mom used to love watching.
Love,
Dad
“This blows,”Stef announced from his bar stool.
“I’d rather be home with Daze and Way,” my brother grumbled.
“You’re not getting married without a bachelor party,” Lucian said. “Even if you wouldn’t let me hire any strippers or flash mobs.”
“Or flash mobs of strippers,” Nolan added.
We were bellied up to the bar at Honky Tonk, drinking beer and bourbon in what really was the lamest bachelor party in Knockemout history. I’d once had to arrest half of the Presbyterian congregation when Henry Veedle’s bachelor party fight club got too rowdy and spilled out onto the streets.
Lou, Knox’s soon-to-be father-in-law, harrumphed. “In my day, we didn’t need bachelor parties or ice sculptures or engagement brunches. We showed up at the church on a Saturday, said ‘I do,’ someone fed us some ham salad sandwiches, and then we went the hell home. What the hell ever happened to that?”
“Women,” Lucian said dryly.
We raised our glasses in a silent toast.
I’d had a long day, and going the hell home to Lina sounded a hell of a lot better than anything else. That morning, I’d formally fired Dilton after making sure everytwas crossed and everyidotted. It had been ugly, as predicted, but there hadn’t been time to celebrate the win thanks to a tractor trailer losing its load of Alfredo sauce on Route 317.
I’d spent the afternoon helping with the cleanup and had just enough time to squeeze in a shower before showing up at the rehearsal only a few minutes late. There had barely been time to drag Lina into my brother’s dining room and kiss the hell out of her before it was time to head out for drinks.
I wanted time with her. I wanted normal with her. I wanted to make up for the near disaster I’d caused. But the wedding was tomorrow. I still didn’t know who’d thrown that rockthrough Lina’s window. And the clock was ticking down with the “hometown hero” article set to run on Monday.
“After” was nearly here. The only thing standing between us and “after” was Duncan fucking Hugo. I’d end this. I’d put him behind bars. And I would do whatever it took to convince Lina that I deserved a place in her future.
I thought about my father’s letter that I’d read after Dilton’s official firing.
“Did Dad send you a letter?” I asked Knox.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
“This open family communication is so touching,” Stef quipped, pretending to wipe away fake tears.
“He might come tomorrow,” Knox said.
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re okay with that?” We’d both had our own version of a strained relationship with our father over the years. Knox cut his hair every few months and gave him cash. I checked in on him and supplied him with essentials he couldn’t trade for oxy.
He shrugged. “It’s not like he’s ever showed up for anything before.”
Silver appeared with another round of drinks. She frowned and wrinkled her nose. “Does anyone else smell garlic and cheese?”
“That’s probably me,” I said.
