“I just think it’s–”
“Nope,” Atticus cuts him off at the knees.
“Don’t worry, Miller,” Delane chides.
I take another drink and ball up my foil, tossing it into the plastic take-out bag resting between us on the center of the table. “Miller, I’m not gonna let anything happen to your job, okay?” I pat his shoulder as I rise. “It’s all good, man.”
He looks just as nervous as before, only now he’s trying to mask it with the whole “I’m cool and have no anxiety just like you guys” bit he does to fit in.
Miller is the only one who doesn’t know who my father is and was, and why no one has told him I’m not sure. To him, I just run the joint here in Oakcreek. He’s so nervous, I almost think it’s better he doesn’t know.
After we finish eating, we clear the lunch table and get back to work. I only have three hours left and after feeling the heat about dodging Toby’s phone call, I’m actually ready to get out of here.
I’m counting down the minutes.
* * *
Last week,when she went to check out the studio space, Atticus gave me a lift home. In true Atticus fashion, he didn’t say a word to me until I opened the door to get out.
“If you expect me to believe after peeling you off bar floors for a year that you’re just suddenly a-okay, I don’t.”
I closed the door and turned to face him.
I remembered when I first met Atticus. I was eighteen, wanting to learn, wanting to showboat, wanting everything all at once, as most new adults do. He put a palm to my chest, brought his eyes to mine and said one word that calibrated me going forward. “Chill.”
He was so fucking intimidating, having years on me, feet on me, inches of raw muscle, and loads of knowledge. Now we’re equals, and no part of me fears him. I respect him; we are peers.
“Okay,” I started, unsure what to say next. Because nothing had really changed and yet, my mindset was completely different. Then again, when I forced myself to think about what he was saying, I realized… Yet again, he was right. I’m not a-okay, I’ve just been a-okay pretending that my problems don’t exist.
“I ain’t doin’ it again, Beau.” He looked out the windshield as he spoke to me. “Not because I gave up on ya but because you gotta find a better answer than the bottle.”
I nodded, sifting fingers through my hair. “Have you heard of 23 and Me?”
He grunted, so I took it for a no.
“It’s a DNA family tree spit test thing. You get maternal and paternal heritage.”
Finally Atticus faced me. His dark eyes bore into me, studying me, and without having to say anything else, he understood.
“So you gonna find him? If they tell you who he is, are you gonna find him?”
I shrugged because I didn’t have a plan just yet.
He nodded. “If you find him, maybe you’ll understand why your pop didn’t tell you ‘til when he did.”
Then I said the thing that has been chewing my brain for over a year. I didn’t need to say it but I did anyway because it’s very infrequent that I even talked about this shit. “I wish he wouldn’t have told me at all.”
“It don’t change a thing unless you let it.”
I popped the door back open and swung my legs out. “Thanks for the ride.”
* * *
“I didn’t getto ask you this morning,” I say, sliding into the backseat the moment her car is in park. I wiggle the giraffe for a sleepy-looking Jett and am rewarded with a chest-spasming smile. He’s fucking cute. I meet her bright blue eyes in the rearview at the same time the smell of her skin and sweat overwhelm me.
I fucking love the smell of her after a day of work. She doesn't get fixed up to pick me up, and I like that about her, too. She comes in her work clothes, whether they’re smeared with paint or coated in dust, and her hair is messy and her eyes are tired. But she smiles and everything about her is fucking gorgeous. Even the way she smells a little sweaty and a lot sweet.
“Yeah?”