“Did you do the trash?” he asked his son.
“Uh…” He glanced at Adrienne, who was busy fiddling with her hair. “Not yet.”
He almost told the kid to get up and do it right away but changed his mind. No need to be an ogre about it. “Just make sure you get it done before you go to bed.”
Adrienne jumped up from the bed and grabbed her backpack. “It’s okay, I have to get home anyway. My parents wanted me back by eight.”
Now you’ve scared her off, asshole.
Matt scrambled off the bed as though he was afraid she’d disappear into thin air. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Brandon left the room and walked to the kitchen. Behind him he heard Matt and Adrienne’s voices just before they disappeared out the front door.
Had he been too hasty in assuming they’d been doing something they shouldn’t have? Matt had always been a good kid and didn’t have a history of getting into trouble.
Brandon had done the best he could on his own, and considering he’d been mother, father, chauffeur, counselor, disciplinarian, personal chef, and accountant all in one, he thought he’d done a pretty good job. So why was he so paranoid?
Because all teenage boys think about one thing. No matter how good they are.
The front door opened, then closed. Duke lifted his head and perked his ears when Matt’s footsteps sounded down the hall.
“Are you using protection?” Brandon blurted out when Matt came into the kitchen.
Matt stopped short and his eyes widened. “Am I what?”
Brandon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You heard me, Matt. I want to make sure you’re being smart.”
Matt shoved his hand through his dark shaggy hair. “Dad,” he said with a laugh that sounded shaky. Too shaky.
“I’m serious, son. I probably should have had this talk with you a long time ago. But I need to know. If there’s anything you need to tell me—”
“Dad, relax, okay?” Matt interrupted. “We’re not…” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair again. “I mean, Adrienne and I aren’t doing anything.” He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down like a buoy in a storm. “We don’t do that.”
A breath Brandon hadn’t realized he’d been holding blew out, deflating the tension that had been building up inside him.
“Good,” he responded with a single nod of his head. “Good.” Awkward much? “Because you should wait. It’s not something you should go around doing with just anybody.”
“Adrienne’s not just anybody, Dad,” Matt argued.
Brandon nodded. “I know she may not seem like that now. But you’re seventeen, Matt. You don’t have enough life experience to know whether she’s somebody special yet.”
“Is it because you don’t like her?”
Why did everyone keep asking him that? “Liking her has nothing to do with it. And I do like her,” he found himself saying for the second time in as many days. “I just want to make sure you’re being smart.” When Matt only blinked, Brandon explained. “Sex, Matt. We’re talking about sex.”
“Yeah, I got that.” Matt nodded, then let out a strange laugh/cough thing. “Geez, Dad.”
Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, kid.
Brandon held his hands up. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Matt turned, but not in time for Brandon to catch the roll of his eye. “Don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake you did.”
Brandon was across the kitchen so fast that Duke jerked his head off the floor. “Hey. Listen to me.” He grabbed Matt’s elbow. “You’re not a mistake. Don’t ever think that.”
Something flashed across Matt’s eyes. “I know,” he said on a low voice.
“Do you?” Brandon pushed. Since the day Matt had been born, Brandon’s biggest fear was his son thinking he was a mistake. That he or Trisha wished they could take it all back. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t go back and do some things differently. But don’t ever think that I regret having you.” Matt was his entire world, and he’d be damned if his own child thought he was a mistake.
Matt’s throat worked again. “I don’t think that, Dad.”
Brandon nodded and dropped his hands. “Good.”
“Uh…” Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. “Look. I like Adrienne, okay? I think she’s a sweet girl. Just…” Geez, why did he have to be such a blubbering idiot? Talking to his own kid shouldn’t be this hard. “Just make sure you’re using common sense. If I could go back and do it all over again, I would have waited until I was older.”
Matt cleared his throat. “You don’t need to worry. Adrienne’s not that kind of girl anyway.”
Brandon gazed back at his son, recognizing the dreams and innocence he’d once possessed. “Do you love her?”
Matt’s attention darted around the room, landing on Duke, then shifting back to Brandon. “I’m not sure. I think I might.”
“Because it’s okay if you don’t know. You’re still young.”
“Did you love Mom?”
The question threw Brandon for a loop because Matt hardly ever asked about his mother. He wasn’t sure how to answer, since he wasn’t even sure of the answer himself.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. When we were together, I did.” It was bad enough Matt thought his own mother had abandoned him. But he also didn’t want Matt to think Brandon didn’t care about Trisha or didn’t love her enough to try and make it work. He’d always been careful to make sure Matt understood that he’d once been a part of a loving family unit.
Matt only nodded. “I’m going to take the garbage out, then I’m going to hit the sack.”
“All right,” Brandon replied. Shit, had he completely botched that? Matt was his son, and they should be able to talk about stuff. Anything, because wasn’t that what fathers and sons did? At least he and Matt always had, up until a few years ago when Matt had been overcome with the sullenness that plagued ninety percent of teenagers. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected his kid to be any different. He strolled out of the kitchen as his cell phone buzzed. With an exhausted sigh, Brandon dug the thing out and tapped the screen without checking the caller ID.
“Yeah,” he greeted.
There was a short pause; then a hesitant female voice said, “Brandon?”
He stopped short outside the kitchen as his heart rolled up into his throat, threatening to bring up the hasty dinner he’d shoved down. “Trisha.”
Seven
I’m not calling at a bad time, am I?” his ex-wife asked.