At this hour on a Saturday, Sanders was the only one at Donald’s table, so Colin caught them up on the latest news from the detective about the drug dealing, as well as yesterday’s shocker.
“Is that not the craziest thing you’ve heard?” Colin said, as he finished the story and perused his cards.
Donald blew out a long stream of air, capping it with a low whistle. “If it’s not the craziest, it’s damn close. She was a real piece of work, that woman.”
Colin huffed. “Yeah, that’s for sure. Did my dad even know about the stuff she was up to?”
Sanders shook his head. “Hell no,” he said emphatically. “He knew she was getting into some bad shit and running into trouble with money. But being pregnant? No way. He’d have told us for sure.”
“He would?”
Sanders nodded as he studied his cards, exchanging one for a new card. “We were all pretty up front with each other. He told us some of what was going on at work. Like when there was some trouble at the company for a spell and he was trying to make heads and tails of it. Told us, too, what was happening at home with Dora and the fights they had about money, then stuff about you guys. Teaching Mike to drive and Shan to play pool. Hell, we all heard the story of that hickey you got,” he said with a wink, darting out his index finger to tap Colin’s neck as if he were twelve again.
Colin lifted his palm as if he were in a court taking an oath. “I solemnly swear it was an accidental scratch.”
Donald nodded and adopted a too-serious look. “Yeah, that sixth-grader at your school dance had some sharp nails.”
Colin chuckled, remembering when he’d made up that elaborate tale to avoid saying a girl had given him a hickey at a middle school dance. He’d been twelve and wildly embarrassed by the black and blue amoeba-shaped mark on his neck, so he’d concocted a crazy fable when his father had picked him up. His dad saw straight through it and teased him about it. Evidently his dad had told his best buddies, too. That warmed his heart.
He returned to less amusing topics. “What about the cheating, though? Did my dad know about Luke?”
“He was suspicious,” Donald said as he doled out two more cards to Colin.
Colin arched an eyebrow. “He knew she was fooling around?”
“He didn’t have any evidence, but a man just knows these things,” Donald said, setting down the deck and parking his hands on the green felt of the table. “He could tell from her behavior. That’s what he told us—that she’d been spending more time out of the house. More time unaccounted for. But you know, it was different back then. People didn’t have cell phones and email, and didn’t walk around with cameras, snapping pics of people having affairs. It was way easier for her to get away with it.”
Colin’s gut churned, and his shoulders tensed with simmering hate. He detested everything his mom had done to his dad. Every single thing. “Did he care? Was he bothered? Was he in love with her still?”
Sanders tipped his chin at Donald. “What do you think, Don? Did Thomas still love Dora?”
Donald ran his hand over his smooth head. “Ah, hell. How can I answer that? We weren’t fond of your mom, kid. We didn’t like her way before any of the real shit went down, because she was fucking around on him. So I don’t want my dislike for her to cloud the answer. But I think he cared for her. And more than anything, he cared about you kids. You were the center of his world. The four of you—man, that’s what he loved most. Being your dad. He was as good to Dora as anyone could be to a woman like that, and he cared about her because she was the mother of his children. He showed her respect. Because he loved you and your brothers and sister.”
As Donald picked up the deck, Colin stared distantly at the sparse morning sprinkling of gamblers at slots and tables, blinking away the tears that threatened to well up. His father had been gone so long, and most days he honestly didn’t think about him that much. Not for lack of love, but because time has a way of soothing the pain. The years made the hurt of missing him recede into the horizon.
But the time that passed would never take away the good things his father had passed on to him—love, respect, and truth. Colin might have spiraled after his dad’s death, but he’d picked himself up since then. He’d apologized for his mistakes. He’d become a better man—the man his father had taught him to be.
That man needed to see one woman now.
* * *
The blanket fell to the floor.
Elle rustled herself from the couch, sitting up straight as she yawned. The light shone brightly through her living room window. She glanced around, getting her bearings, then she spotted a note on the coffee table. From her mom, it was written on a yellow piece of stationery with a cartoonish fox in the corner. “Hey sweetie, I picked up Alex this morning. You were sound asleep. I’ll take him for the day. Get your rest, my love.”
She grabbed her phone to check the time. It was after nine. She’d been conked out since before midnight. Those pills must have worked brilliantly. She hadn’t even heard anyone leave. She never slept this long. She wiggled her thumb gingerly, and it didn’t hurt anymore.
She wished she could say the same about her heart. She’d need super-duper strength pills to numb the sting of the barrage of notes from Colin. He felt so deceived by her. She understood why, and she’d tried to prepare herself for this moment, but there was no true way to be ready for a reaction to something that huge.
She’d just have to take her lumps like a big girl and move on from him. He clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
As she placed her phone on the table, a memory boomeranged front and center. An odd Facebook comment from last night. Something strangely…menacing. She clicked on her app and scanned the post on the team’s wall. But whatever she’d been remembering was now gone. The post only included comments from her derby teammates, fans, and friends.
Weird. She shrugged, figuring the pain pill had made her a little loopy.
She padded to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and took a quick shower. When she was through, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, headed to the kitchen, and punched in the 90s channel on her satellite radio. She hummed along to a Pearl Jam tune as she hunted for eggs and bread in the fridge.
The music was interrupted by a knock on the door.
With one hand gripping the open fridge door, she made a wish. She couldn’t help it. She hoped against hope that it would be Colin. A foolish, ridiculous wish.
After all his notes, there was no way he’d be here this morning. She’d need to rid him from her mind. After breakfast, she’d tackle the Forget Colin project.
She headed to the front door, peered through the peephole, and squeaked when she saw that dark hair, that sandpaper stubble, and those yummy lips. That man.
She burst into a grin.
Wait.
Prickles of worry tripped across her skin. What if he was still pissed? What if he’d come here to tell her he never wanted to see her again? And what the hell? Had that dumb pill made her forget that he’d been kind of mean to her?
She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her chest, and gathered her strength. Whether he was mad or not, whether she was hurt or not, she needed to say her piece. She opened the door, ready to finally explain that she’d been bound by her ethics not to say a word.
He was faster. He locked eyes with her. “Hey, so I’m an asshole, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
The grin returned to her face, and she shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she said quickly, needing to reassure him. “Not at all. But do you want to come in?”
He nodded and walked inside. She shut the door behind him, and they stood in her tiny entryway. He wore cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt that revealed his strong biceps without being showy. A part of her wanted to run her hands along his arms, but that was not what this visit was about. There were things to be said. So many things. And though she was happy to see him, her heart still hurt from his messages, and from the weight of the secrets she’d had to keep.