Chapter Twenty-Four
Andrew hated himself more with each word he used, to push Susan away. He meant what he said last night, but it was idealistic bullshit. He saw her hurt today, when she found the exchange with Rissa, and reality crashed in. If he stayed in Susan’s life, it would crush them both. Her, when he fucked up, and him as a result.
Better a little pain now, than a screaming blow-out a month or two down the line.
She was a fascination, unique and compelling. Once he got used to her, his interest would wander. It always did. A shout in the back of his mind repeated, What if this time is different? He never managed to shut the question up completely, but if he threw himself into other things, he could ignore the echoes.
For the next several days, he helped Kandace make sure Lucas was recovering. Andrew wasn’t surprised Mercy refused to take his calls. He left her a message, saying he was going to work from Kandace’s for the rest of his trip. A few hours later, a courier showed up with his laptop and a note from Mercy, letting him know they could conduct any other meetings via phone or Skype, the way they did when he wasn’t in town.
Would he be able to win back Mercy’s trust this time? The question tried to summon another one—how long until he got over Susan. He ignored both.
That night, six days after bringing Lucas home, Andrew and Kandace sat at the kitchen table to figure out what came next for them.
“After Christmas, I’ll fly back to Georgia long enough to tie up loose ends and grab my things,” Andrew said.
Kandace smiled. She hadn’t done much of that lately, and it was nice to see. “It’ll be nice to finally have you close again. It’s a shame it took this much to get you here.”
“Mom.” Lucas stood in the doorway, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Can I talk to you?”
Andrew pushed back from the table. “We can wrap this up later.” He was trying his damnedest to not push his presence on Lucas—assuring the boy there was no reason to call him Dad; making sure it was clear Lucas didn’t have to talk to him unless he wanted to… Lucas took full advantage of the offer and kept his distance from Andrew.
“Both of you.” Lucas’s voice was so soft, Andrew wasn’t sure he heard right.
Andrew sat back down and clenched his jaw shut, terrified of saying the wrong thing and obliterating this opportunity.
“I don’t want to go back to school after winter break,” Lucas said.
“At all, or just that school?” Kandace’s tone was calm and unwavering. It carried no judgement or anger.
Andrew was impressed. Would he need to learn to do that?
Lucas continued to study his feet. “I need to learn stuff still. But I don’t like it there.”
“We’ll find you a different school. Do you want to sit with us?” Kandace gestured to a chair, toeing it out from the table a few inches.
Lucas shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m going to my room, to read.” He stayed in the doorway, though.
“What’s wrong?” Kandace asked.
“Are you really moving here? Like, for good?” Lucas looked at Andrew.
This was an easy enough question to answer. “Yup. There’s a house a few blocks away I’m trying to buy.” Andrew put an offer in a few days ago.
“I don’t have to live there, do I?”
“No. But you’re welcome any time.” Andrew could do this. He could be a normal, reasonable uncle figure about the entire thing.
Silence descended over the room again. Lucas fiddled with his fingers, looking everywhere but at the table.
Maybe Andrew couldn’t do this. Silence wasn’t his thing, and neither was beating around the bush. He’d been aching to broach the subject of what happened to Lucas and the best way to work toward recovery. “Would you like to talk to someone about what happened in therapy?” That was as nonjudgmental as he could be with the question.
“No.” Lucas’s voice cracked.
Kandace gripped her mug so hard, her knuckles turned white.
“I don’t want to talk to you, because you’ll make fun of me,” Lucas said.
Andrew squelched the hurt the words caused and forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn this level of scorn, but he’d work as hard as he could, to get past it. “I never want to make fun of anything that hurts you. And I didn’t mean me. Someone who specializes in listening.” He’d gotten a few referrals for local shrinks who specialized in child psychology and sexual identity.