Chapter Ten
Andrew didn’t fall asleep until the early hours of Monday morning. Nothing, including beating off, appealed to him. The moment with Susan replayed in his head, until exhaustion relegated the thoughts to dream status.
Now he sat in his temporary office at R&T, doing everything he could to think about work, and failing completely. He managed to avoid Susan this morning. It was a small thing, but one to be grateful for.
He pushed too hard last night. Prodded more than was reasonable, given her insecurities. He didn’t know why. Regardless of his reasons, the arrangement was over now. Odds were she wouldn’t make good on her bluff to find other help. She would have already done that if it were an option—and why was he dwelling on this?
He shoved the thoughts aside and turned back to the hardware contracts his IT team wanted him to review. He wouldn’t meet with Mercy’s people until this afternoon, so he had time to find his creative center.
Forty-five minutes later, when his phone rang, he’d read the same paragraph about warranty and repair scheduling five times, and he still had no idea what it said. “Yeah?” He answered, attention focused on the contract.
“Happy Monday.” Kandace sounded far too chipper for his liking.
“I’ve had better. I’ve had worse. Calling me three times in a week? This is a record for you. You miss me that much?”
Her chuckle sounded as forced as his attempt at levity. “Trust me. I wish I wasn’t calling,” she said.
“Is Lucas all right?” His mind was completely—mostly—off Susan.
“For now. I’m fine too, thanks for asking.”
“What does for now mean?”
She sighed. “On his way out the door this morning, he announced he’s doing the therapy. I pointed out all the things I discussed with him—the reasons it was harmful. He told me that wouldn’t be a problem for him, because he’s broken and this will fix him.”
“Jesus.” Andrew didn’t know what else to say. He’d seen the after effects of the therapy in actors. In friends. The process started with stripping away a patient’s sense of self. The side-effect was intense self-loathing. From there, the therapist rebuilt the patient into someone who wasn’t attracted to the same sex. Or really, anything at all.
Andrew lost an actress to suicide because of the resulting self-hatred, several years back. “We can’t let him.”
“I hate to phrase it this way, but it’s his choice.”
“So you agree with him?” Andrew swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
“No. But forbidding him from going isn’t going to make the situation better. I figured he’d attend a session or two, and the urge to rebel—or whatever this is—would pass.”
Shittiest plan ever. “He won’t go to any sessions at all.”
“You don’t get to backseat parent.”
“Great. That solves two issues. I’m stepping in, we’re putting a stop to this, and the conversation is over.”
“All right.” She sounded tired.
Andrew pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it in disbelief for a second, before holding it back to his head. “Say that again. I think we’ve got a bad connection.”
“You can tell him you’re his father. I won’t fight you on it. But I’m not agreeing to anything else until we know how that goes.”
“What are you up to?” It wasn’t that his sister was manipulative, but in ten years, she’d never budged on the issue. This was too easy.
“I’m serious when I say I don’t want Lucas doing this.” Frustration joined her exhaustion. “I don’t know what else to try, so if this makes a difference, it’s worth it. Besides, he needs to know sooner rather than later. You’re right about that.”
“Say that again.”
“Knock it off.” She gave a tiny laugh. “Can you come down Saturday morning?”
“I’ll be there.” As he hung up, his mind whirred at the development. Sure, this was one of his goals, but he never expected her to up and say all right. He was prepared to fight and argue and run into a brick wall regardless.
Now he had no idea what he was supposed to say to Lucas. Hi, kid. I’m not actually your uncle; I’m your biological father. Surprise. Let’s go get ice cream. Strip club will wait until you’re legal. Yeah, he was going to need to work on that. At least he had a few days to get it right. Please let me get it right.