Page 4 of Colin
But it was worlds away from how frail he’d looked in that hospital bed—his skin ashen, his eyes dulled, only half his face capable of changing expression—so Colin supposed he should be grateful.
“Hey, Pop.”
His dad twisted in his chair to give him a slight, lopsided frown. “You better not have been unpacking those boxes.”
“Just giving them a look-through.”
They had a stare-off, then. Normally Colin could keep it up forever, but his long avoidance of desert temperatures had him at a slight disadvantage. He was pretty sure sweat was going to be dripping into his eyes at any second.
Luckily his dad took pity on him, grabbing at his walker and rising from the chair before turning in a neat circle to face the back door. “You never could take the heat,” he said over his shoulder. “Come in for some water before you faint on my patio.”
Colin followed his dad into the house, closing his eyes briefly in gratitude for the cool burst of air-conditioning. They made their way into the kitchen, an outdated specimen his dad was always threatening to remodel and never had.
His dad shuffled to the refrigerator. “You want water or juice?”
Colin couldn’t remember the last time his answer had been juice. He’d probably been, what, nine years old? But his dad always asked. “Water’s fine.”
They sat at the table, sipping at their water, the silence pregnant with words unsaid. Colin’s dad clearly had something on his mind, but it never worked well to push him. He’d say what he wanted to say when he wanted to say it.
His dad grabbed his free hand, ignoring Colin’s flinch at the unexpected contact. “It’s been good to have you here, bubba.”
Colin raised a pierced brow. “Not too good, clearly, if you don’t want me unpacking.”
His dad shook his head slightly. “I’m fine, you know.”
“I know.” Colin sipped at his water again. He could wait his dad out, until he got whatever this was off his chest. He was in no hurry. He had nowhere to be, did he?
He didn’t have to wait long. His dad squeezed his hand. “You’ve been happy in Hyde Park.”
Colin shrugged a shoulder. “Happy enough, I guess.”
“And I’m fi—”
Colin cut him off. He could be patient, yes, but he wasn’t going to listen to any morefines. “You had a stroke, Pop. You’re still healing. You don’t need to tell me you’re fine.”
His dad stared him down again. His eyes looked tired, although they were the same deep, warm brown as ever. Colin had gotten his mother’s eyes, the kind that couldn’t decide if they were blue or green from one day to the next. Everything else had been his dad. They had the same wiry frame, although his dad’s belly had that little pooch that age gave men of their build. The same light-brown hair, when Colin’s wasn’t covered with hair dye.
The same stubbornness too.
Another hand squeeze. “I love you, bubba. I’m proud of you. Your mom would be proud of you.”
Colin drained the last of his water and set down his glass, unsure what to do with this little emotional side street. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the words, but he knew they were meant to soften the blow of whatever was coming next. “Okay,” he said blankly.
“But you can’t keep staying here.” His dad held up a hand when Colin opened his mouth to protest. “You can stay in Tucson, obviously. I get that I’m not winning that argument. But you’re not living with me anymore.”
Colin rubbed at his face with his free hand. “Seriously?”
“There will be a time in the future, maybe much sooner than we’d thought, where I’ll need you to take care of me like that. But it’s not now. I have a nurse that comes by daily. And Molly next door has come by at least that often, pretending she needs a cup of sugar, just to keep an eye on me. How many cakes does that woman expect me to believe she’s baking?” He fixed Colin with an uncharacteristically stern look. “You haven’t so much as left this house beyond grocery shopping this entire month. You haven’t checked in with any of your old friends. I’m not going to let you use me as an excuse to withdraw from life completely. You’ll find a place, preferably with roommates. Ones your age. I can pay.”
“Ican pay. Jesus.” Colin fiddled with his bracelets as he took all that in. So he’d been a bit of a hermit this past month—so what? There were people in this town he didn’t want to see. He didn’t think he was using this dad as an excuse to isolate completely, but who the fuck really knew. He’d never been very good at figuring out what direction he was facing when it came to his life, either his past, present, or future. For as long as he could remember, he’d felt like he was waiting for something. Something…more.
But more never came, did it? He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of it, those days when Jay used to feed on him. He’d had a taste of something that felt larger than life. But it hadn’t lasted long. Had been snatched away like everything else good in this world.
And it wasn’t like he could even articulate what “more” was. He’d never been able to.
He tapped his fingers on the kitchen table, cocking his head at his dad. “Hey. Did you know vampires are real?”
His dad broke into a sincere grin then, the lopsided nature of which twisted Colin’s gut only a little. “I’ve missed you, bubba.”
