I wouldn’t actually fuck any of their moms, but I was known to be a little on the crazy side. I’d followed through on enough dares and threats to back up my street cred.
“When is it again?” I asked.
Hayley’s eyes lit up. “Satur…day.” Her voice dropped at the end, and I no longer felt hungry. Shit. Saturday. The races.
A hush fell over the table as soon as the word left her mouth. I wouldn’t be able to take Piper, and I instantly felt like shit, knowing she wouldn’t have a date because I had banned everyone from asking her. I was such a jealous fuck.
“What just happened?” My dad bent his head down, his cool, gray eyes moving between the three of us.
Hayley quickly intervened. “Oh, Ollie is probably feeling a little bad for not asking Piper when it’s less than a week away.” She turned to me. “Don’t worry. Piper and I will go get dresses this week. Just make sure you ask her so she knows she actually has a date.”
I nodded and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” as soon as my dad looked away.
I went ahead and added winter formal to my list of things we needed to convene about at Eric’s cabin later.
Shortly after the awkward conversation about the formal, Hayley and Christian began cleaning up before we all headed to Eric’s. Christian was dropping Hayley off at Piper’s so they could drive together to Eric’s. Piper and Hayley needed to talk, apparently, so they were catching up on the drive over.
As soon as they left and I gathered my keys, my dad came and stood in the archway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his dress shirt. His forearms were flexing back and forth from below his rolled-up cuffs as if he were nervous and trying to gain the confidence to ask me something.
That immediately set off alarm bells in my head. My father and I got along for the most part. We didn’t butt heads like he and my brother, and I was certain it was because we were nothing alike. Christian was an exact replica of my father—thus why they constantly argued. But my father and me? We didn’t even share the same physical features, and now I knew why.
“Need somethin’?” I asked, glancing at him from my phone. There wasn’t a damn thing on my phone at the moment, but I needed something to hold my attention before I lost a hold on my sanity and blurted out something that gave him an indication that I knew.
My father reached up and rubbed his five o’clock shadow, the scruff echoing within the tall ceilings of our entryway. “Is everything okay with you?”
Don’t panic. Don’t look away.
I kept my eyes steady on his. “Yeah, why?”
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He tilted his head, squinting his one eye. “You seem distant. Far away. You’re not your happy, loud, annoying-the-hell-out-of-your-brother self.”
The need to shift on my feet was hard to ignore. But I kept them planted to the floor. “I’m good.”
“Are you upset your brother is going off to college next year without you? And most of your friends? Is that why you were asking about you two being so close in age yesterday?”
No. I quickly averted my eyes and knew that was an instant mistake. The secret was planted inside my head like a seed the second I’d found the birth certificate. Tiny sprouts formed the more I thought about all the differences my dad and I had, and when it clicked, the roots continued to grow and spread until it was the only thing I could think about. It consumed me. The desire to hear it from him. The confirmation I needed. The questions I wanted answered. Standing here, looking at my father with his quizzical eye, was too much.
But then my phone vibrated.
Unknown: We need to talk
I glanced at my father again and then back down to my phone.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Who tf you think? Meet me here and we can discuss what we need to do this weekend.
I recognized the pin that was sent. It was Tank’s trailer, the one I was at the night before, rescuing Piper. It felt like I had been hit in the back with a baseball bat. My back went rigid for a moment before I shook my arms out and slipped my phone in my pocket. I grabbed my black hat off the banister of the stairs and placed it backwards on my head.
“Everything is just dandy, Dad. I gotta go.” Before stepping out the door, I glanced back at him, and his mouth was in a straight line. I knew I was raising more questions with being standoffish. I knew he was likely concerned, or maybe he was sweating a little, wondering if I’d found out his secret—I wasn’t sure—but I turned back and said, “Later,” before closing the door and walking to my car.
First stop: Tank’s.
Second stop: Eric’s.
Hopefully, the first didn’t interfere with the second. Walking into Tank’s trailer alone was probably a step in the wrong direction, but what choice did I have?