When they’d gone, taking my beer and their righteous frustrations with them, I sat in the dark and stared at the blank TV, doing my best not to think about what they’d said.
I went so far as to start looking for large parcels of land far the fuck away from Knockemout.
My phone signaled a text.
Stef: Seriously? I warned you, man. You couldn’t have just not been a selfish dick?
I tossed my phone aside and closed my eyes. Could it possibly be true that my best efforts to take care of the people I cared about amounted to me pushing a mountain of money between us? Money gave them security, and it protected me.
The pounding on my door jolted Waylon awake.
He gave a short sharp bark, then decided the chair was more comfortable and immediately went back to sleep.
“Go the fuck away,” I called.
“Open the damn door, Morgan.”
It wasn’t Nash or Lucian back for round two. It was worse.
I opened the door to find Naomi’s dad standing there in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Lou looked pissed. But the bourbon I’d switched to after my last uninvited guests drank all my beer numbed me.
“If you came here to punch me in the face, someone already beat you to it.”
“Good. I hope it was Naomi,” Lou said, pushing his way inside.
I really needed that 1,000 acres.
“She’s too classy for that.”
Lou stopped in the foyer and turned to face me. “She is. She’s also too hurt to see the truth.”
“Why is everyone so obsessed with ‘the truth’?” I asked, using air quotes. “Why can’t people just mind their own damn business and stick to their own truths?”
“Because it’s easier to see someone else’s. And more fun to kick someone else’s ass when they’ve got their head shoved up it.”
“I thought you, of all people, would be doing a victory dance over this. You never liked me with her.”
“I never trusted you with her. There’s a difference.”
“And I suppose you came here to educate me.”
“I suppose I did. Someone’s got to.”
I’d add a moat around my bunker as a last line of defense.
“I’m forty-fucking-three years old, Lou. I don’t need a father-son moment.”
“Tough shit. Because that’s what you’re gonna get. I’m sorry that you suffered so much loss so early in life. I’m sorry that your mom died and your dad abandoned you. Liza’s told us bits and pieces. I’m sorry you lost your grandfather just a few years later. It’s not fair. And I can’t blame you for wanting to hide from all that pain.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m a goddamn open book. I told your daughter what she could expect from me. It’s not my fault she got her hopes up.”
“That would be true if it weren’t for one thing.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “If I let you tell me the one thing, will you leave?”
“You didn’t do it because you didn’t care. You did it because you cared too damn much, and it scared you.”
I snorted into my glass, trying my best to ignore the tightening in my chest.