My hand landed against Tanner’s shoulder, and he flinched. Good. The way he was belittling Mr. Henson had my blood boiling. “It’s time for you to go.”
Mr. Henson sighed with relief at me taking hold of the situation, and he walked off toward the back room.
Tanner slung my hand off and dusted off his outfit. “Chill out, Tristan. I was just having fun with the old man.”
“You need to go.”
“You’re right, I do. Some people have real jobs to do. But hey, I’m glad to hear that you and Liz were still able to work things out after she told you about the accident. That’s cool. I mean, hell, you’re a better person than me. I don’t think I could even deal with being around a person who was involved in such a thing.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He arched an eyebrow. “You mean, you don’t know? Shit…Liz said she told you.”
“Told me? Told me what?”
“That her husband was the one driving the car that slammed into your family’s car.” He narrowed his eyes. “She really didn’t tell you?”
My throat dried out, and part of me considered that he could be lying. Tanner hated me because I loved Elizabeth. He was a sneaky asshole who made it his job to get underneath people’s skin, and now he was determined to get underneath mine.
The last thing he said was that he was sorry and hadn’t meant to start any trouble. He said he was happy that Elizabeth and I had found each other. He said all he wanted was for her to be happy, but I knew that all his words of comfort were full of shit.
That night, I sat on my bed with my cell phone in my hand, and I called my Dad. I didn’t say a word when he answered, but hearing his voice was good. It was needed.
“Tristan,” he said. I could almost hear the relief in his tones. “Hey, Son. Mom said you called her a while back and didn’t speak. She was also convinced that she ran into you when she went to Meadows Creek to see the market, but I thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.” He paused. “You’re not going to talk, are you?” He paused again. “That’s fine. I’ve always been a bit of a talker.”
That was a lie—Dad had always been the quiet one of my parents, much more of a listener. I put the phone on speaker and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes as Dad caught me up on everything I’d missed. “Your grandparents are in town staying with your mom and me, and I think it’s safe to say they are driving me crazy. They are having their house remodeled, and your mom thought it would be a good idea to have them stay at our place. They’ve been here for three weeks already, and I’ve been through more gin than I thought humanly possible.
“Oh! And your mom somehow talked me into taking a workout class with her because she worries about my healthy diet of Doritos and soda. So I showed up to the class—turned out I was the only man there. I ended up doing Zumba for an hour straight. Lucky for me my hips don’t lie and I was a natural.”
I snickered.
He talked to me late into the night as I moved from room to room, listening to him tell me stories, listening to him talk about sports and how the Packers were still the top team in the NFL. At one point he cracked open a beer, and I opened one too. It almost felt as if we were drinking together.
When it was past midnight, he told me he needed to get to bed. He told me he loved me and would always be on the other end of the line if I ever just needed someone to talk my way.
Right before I went to hang up, my lips parted. “Thanks, Dad.”
I heard his voice crack and emotion take over him. “Anytime, Son. Call whenever you need to, day or night. And when you’re ready to come back, we’ll be here. We’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.”
The world needed more parents like mine.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elizabeth
“You have four seconds to open this door before I come busting in to find you, woman!” Faye shouted on my front porch. When I opened the door, she gasped. “For the love of God, when was the last time you showered?”
I was wearing pajamas, my hair was in the messiest bun of the century, and my eyes were swollen. I raised my arm a little and smelled my underarm. “I put on deodorant.”
“Oh, honey.” She frowned, stepping into my living room. “Where’s Emma?”
“Friday night sleepover,” I explained, plopping down on the couch.
“What’s going on, Liz? Your boyfriend came into the café saying you haven’t been talking to him. Did he hurt you?”
“What? No. He’s…he’s perfect.”
“Then why the silent treatment? Why do you look like a homeless person?” She sat down next to me.
“Because I can’t talk to him anymore. I can’t be with him.” I went on to tell her about the accident, to explain why things with Tristan couldn’t work out. The seriousness that filled her stare was something I didn’t get often from Faye, which attested to how serious and real the situation was.