My father.
“Yes,” I told a better father, one who’d loved his son for all he was. “Iwillbring you Trigeneris.”
Randall slid his hand down my arm to hold it steady as the other hand pressed a hard object into my palm. “Take Laramie’s phone. Go. Save our Jackson.”
I wanted to ask if he included me in thatour, but I found I didn’t want the answer. I just nodded and walked out, phone in hand, to drive my shitty Subaru into the belly of the beast.
27PRODIGAL
The butler openedthe door with an expression that said I’d committed unspeakable acts in his breakfast cereal. “Sir. Your parents have a long-standing order that you are not allowed on the premises. Please leave or I will be forced to get the authorities involved.”
“Sure. Call the police. That’ll be a fun news story,” I said, and shouldered right past him to stride through the front door.
I’d set out with an energy bar, a can of soda, and no plan to speak of when I drove north from Colorado Springs. Planning upset my stomach, if you want to know the truth. Not in general. In specific about my parents, and about this morning’s impending confrontation.
I was the most ostrichy ostrich who ever did ostrich when it came to my family. Cutting them out had been a no-brainer, since they were toxic dickheads who showed no indication they would put anyone’s wants before their own. The day I walked away from this house, I intended the estrangement to last forever, and I burned the bridge down behind me.
Except now, I needed them. Badly. Not another person on this whole stupid planet could give me what they had. That Jackson’s life now depended on my parents, the people who’d told me to disavow my attraction to men or find myself disinherited, allowed me to experience anxiety in a way I hope to avoid for the rest of my days.
The house hadn’t changed. Same bright, naturally lit foyer, same hardwood trim, same marble floors and Persian rugs. All the mountain views and million-dollar artwork you need to sate your aesthetic palate until it teeters on the edge of a feeling like eating too much cake. Excess, yes, but not enough toquitetip over into a visual gluttony.
I’d arrived around six in the morning, which meant I’d find them in the breakfast nook. The entire house was redolent with the smell of eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and best of all, bacon. My stomach snarled a protest despite the fact that, an hour before, I’d had to choke down bites of my energy bar. Sure,nowthe traitor wanted to eat. It betrayed me for bacon.
The butler trailed along behind me, stating he intended to contact security and the police and potentially the Coast Guard. I had rocked up to the house without a plan or any fucks to give. Now, I continued my fuckless march to the small niche, with its near panoramic view of the landscape, to find my family.
Three of them, today. My mother, still in a blue satin bathrobe. Her hair remained down and her angular face sat bare of makeup as she sipped at a cup of tea. She didn’t even look up at my entrance.
My brother, who is ridiculously attractive from an objective point of view. I can only imagine how that magnifies for unrelated people who find men appealing. He had a fork full of omelette and a raised eyebrow, as if he knew I’d ruined the butler’s morning and wondered if I’d ruin his next.
And my father. The man whose glare can melt steel while his cheekbones cut glass. He wore a stony face to rival the Flatirons beyond the windows and a distinct air of displeasure as I interloped without shame or shits to hand out. In his hand, he held one of the coveted pieces of bacon.
“Sir, I’m sorry,” the butler said. “I tried to stop him, but he forced his way in. Shall I call the police?”
“What are you doing here, Sebastian?” my father demanded, the faintest lilt of his Dutch accent turning my name into a lyrical sound.
I thought about saying,I’ve come to bargain,but he wouldn’t get it. Instead, I said, “I need a course of Trigeneris. My husband is dying on Mars.”
My father dropped his bacon and pushed himself away from the table in disgust.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get some gay in your breakfast?” I asked.
My mother held up her free hand and spared me a glance. “Sebastian. Please. Sit down. Would you like some breakfast? We have plenty, and you look exhausted. You can eat, and we can hear what happened. All right?”
It wasn’t all right. I wanted to yell that I had no time, that my husband was dyingright nowwhile they drank imported tea and we stroked ourselves off on pleasantries, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. So I drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and sat down at the table.
My mother glanced at the butler then at the kitchen. He took the hint and fucked off to get me a plate. As he did, my mother rose and stepped to the sideboard where the coffee and tea services waited. “Still coffee with cream and sugar?”
“Please,” I said, and didn’t want to be grateful for it. I’d gotten two hours of sleep and little to eat, and neither lack of caffeine nor a case of the hangries was helping my tact.
She poured my coffee herself and set it down in front of me. The butler returned with a plate of food. My stomach still hadn’t decided if it wanted to cling to the anxious nausea or if it wanted every piece of bacon within fifty miles, but I laid into the food anyway.
Expensive bacon is a transcendent experience. I’d forgotten how good it is. Curse you, one percent.
As I ate, I talked, though I edited what I said into a highlight reel instead of a full-length documentary of my life. I told them I taught history. That I’d signed up for Mail Call Mates – my mother’s lips pursed in faint disapproval, but to her credit she made no comment, and my father looked like I’d dropped a deuce in his coffee – and married a man named Jackson. I told them he’d deployed and taken an injury in combat, and that only Trigeneris could give him any chance to survive.
My breakfast had disappeared by the time my story ended. Johann, face blank, slipped two pieces of his bacon onto my plate.
China clinked as my father picked up his coffee cup, presumably to wash the taste of my marriage out of his mouth, and set it down again. “No. I will not give you any Trigeneris. My stance on providing any to the government after their incautious behavior is unchanged. Furthermore, if you had done as I asked, none of this would have happened.”