Page 85 of Fatal Fame
"Then give me something. Because right now I'm?—"
"Disappointed?" Ethan asked, expecting a challenge.
"No. Confused." Noah paused, choosing his words carefully. "Look, Ethan, I know the loss of your mother has affected you."
"You haven't got a clue how it has."
Noah stared back at him. "No. You're right. I don't fully know, but unless you talk to me about it, how can I? I barely get two words out of you at night. You come in from school, mumble a few words, and go to your room. We used to hang out on weekends. You don't do that anymore. And before you say I work too much—you know the situation. I do my best. The job requires me to be available."
"Sure it does."
The retort caught Noah off guard. "What does that mean?"
"You used to have time for us when you didn't live here. Since you've moved back to High Peaks, everything is Luther Ashford, crime, work, that next case. Even when you aren't working, you're working. I see you looking at case files on your phone. You say you're nothing like Grandfather, but you are him, and more."
The words stung because they carried truth. Noah's desire to create distance between himself and Hugh had been something he'd worked hard at, even choosing to join the State Police instead of the Sheriff's Office. But perhaps geography and agency affiliation weren't enough to escape the patterns that had defined the Sutherland men for generations.
"It's like you don't see us anymore," Ethan continued, his voice gaining momentum as years of frustration poured out. "And if you do, it's through the eyes of fear. Fear that we might make the wrong friends, fear that we might die at the hands of one of Luther's cronies. I feel smothered. I know Mia does too. She just acts like she's not. She pretends she's grown out of that phase, but even this—even this case—this was her way of trying to be closer to you. More like you. To be accepted by you. And you don't even see it."
Noah felt each word like a punch to the gut. "And where does that leave you?"
Ethan shrugged. "I don't care, and maybe that's what bothers you. At least with Mia, you have a sense she's heading in a direction that's familiar to you. Like it or not, you understand that world. But me?" Ethan's voice filled with disdain. "I will never work in law enforcement. Never. I've seen how it poisons everything it touches."
Noah forced himself to remain silent as Ethan unleashed years of pent-up anger and frustration, blaming anyone and everything within reach. The dock creaked gently beneath them as waves lapped against the support posts, the only sound interrupting the torrent of emotion flowing from his son.
When Ethan finally ran out of words, exhausted by his own outburst, Noah waited a moment before speaking.
"You feel better now?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to tell you that I'm good. Then you can get back to doing what you need to, what you want to. Then I'm just one less distraction in your world. One less headache. Well, you don't have to worry about me, Dad. I'm just going to keep on doing my thing, just as everyone does theirs."
"And what does that involve? Cutting yourself?"
"If need be."
Noah shook his head, feeling the full weight of his failures as a father. Despite all his training as a cop, when it came to his kids, he was at a complete loss. Lena had been better at this, she'd known what to say, how to soothe them, how to get them back on track. But him? He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. If he tried to tell them what to do, he was overbearing. If he said nothing, he was ignoring them. If parenting was a balancing act, he'd fallen off more times than he could count.
"I don't know what to say, son, or if I should say anything at all. I just want you to know that I love you. I always have. I always will. I only want the best for both of you. That means,whether you go into law enforcement or not, I’m still proud of you. What matters is that you know that no matter what you do or don't do, you are worthy. Not because I say so, not because of anything required, simply because you exist."
He paused, watching a leaf spiral down from the maple tree above them to land on the water's surface.
"You know, I never told you this, but when you were born, I told your mother that I hoped neither of you went into law enforcement. Not because I feared for your lives—though I wouldn't be much of a father if I said I don't worry. But because more than anything, I wanted you to find your own way, your own thing, that thing that brings you alive. Not what I want. I grew up under that pressure with your grandfather. I know what it feels like. I've done my best to steer you both away from it, to ask you what you love. And maybe I haven't always been there. I'll take responsibility for that. But my absence doesn't mean I love you any less."
Noah reached for Ethan's shoulder, but his son pulled away, creating physical distance to match the emotional chasm between them.
"You've never asked me what I love."
"No? I thought I had."
"Maybe when I was six. I'm seventeen now."
"Right you are." Noah smiled, feeling a crack in the wall between them. "So what do you love?"
"Technology."
"Ah. Okay. You know, Rishi could?—"
"Dad. I don't want to know what Rishi does or can do."
