Where Jeanne had no reservations about letting her baby doze in my arms.
Eventually the sun began to set, and the improvised party came to a close. I gave Maggie back to Jeanne for her next bottle and grabbed a trash bag from Dad’s pantry, making quick work of party cleanup with Colin, who’d become my little shadow. We were just about done when we walked back into the house and into the end of a hushed argument between my dad and Jeanne.
We all stared at one another for a moment before Dad sighed, pasted on a bright smile for me and Colin, and picked up a bag from the couch.
Hoisting the backpack diaper bag over his shoulder, he looked at me hopefully. “Are you sticking around?”
Mostly out of habit, I opened my mouth to decline, closed it, and then nodded instead. If I left now, I was afraid I’d be swept up by the tornado again. Or become one.
Dad nodded back, and I followed them out to say goodbye to Jeanne and the kids, giving the little creatures high fives and patting Maggie gently on the back. After a brief unexpected hug from Jeanne, I left them to it and went back inside to fish around Dad’s cupboard for some decaf coffee.
After finding the beans, I poured some into his grinder and called upon all my years of barista-ing to make two perfect decaf cappuccinos. One with whole milk for me, the other with hemp milk that absolutely did not froth right for Dad. So, not so perfect, but he must’ve thought it was, based on the way his eyes brightened before he thanked me and took a savoring sip.
We occupied our usual spots at the marble island—the thought making me pause just for a moment when I realized that we truly did have such a routine—and let the silence of the Sunday night settle. The door to the backyard was open, leaving just the screen door between us and the outside. The chirp of night insects and calls of animals grew louder as time passed.
Dad scooped up our finished cappuccinos and washed the mugs by hand, and I grabbed a towel from the drawer and silently dried them and put them back on their shelf.
It was now or never, I supposed, and I tried to not think—or overthink—as I spoke.
“Jaxon knew who I was when I broke into your backyard and crashed his brother’s party. He said he’d seen pictures.”
Dad opened a drawer, took out a lens cloth, and started cleaning his wire-framed glasses. “That’s true. I’ve been helping Jeanne with the kids lately, and they’ve seen your pictures hanging in the halls. Jaxon even looked at your school yearbooks.” He held up his glasses and inspected them in the kitchen’s light, then resumed cleaning, glancing at me briefly. “Also, you can’t break in. There would never be….”
He paused his cleaning and tossed the lens cloth onto the marble countertop and drew his shoulders back as he put his glasses back on and looked at me, presumably in ultra-clear definition, based on how long he’d cleaned them. “Cody, there would never be a time when you wouldn’t be welcome here.”
I stared at him for a long moment, and he held my gaze, stern and unyielding. He won this time, and I collapsed back on the stool, then nodded dumbly for several long moments. “Thank you for saying that.”
“You don’t—” he started, but then he frowned and glanced down at the counter. “I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”
When I made no reply except to nod again, Dad busied himself around the kitchen, blessedly keeping the kitchen bar between us as he did, giving me just enough physical distance that I didn’t feel suffocated. I was now sure this move was deliberate.
An awkward silence descended between us, but we were both tired from the day, not to mention whatever else was going on with him. The quiet wasn’t abrasively awkward. Just more… stilted.
So, in the name of drawing this day—and weekend—to a close, I cut to the chase.
“I need to store some stuff in your garage.”
He tilted his head but didn’t sound at all suspicious as he agreed. “That’d be fine. There’s plenty of room.”
It made me feel a bit guilty, so I rubbed the back of my neck and added, “Full disclosure—in doing so, you’ll become complicit. Or an accomplice. Or something.”
“Complicit,” he repeated slowly, his eyebrows rising as his gaze traveled to the door that led to the garage.
“Complicit,” I confirmed. Standing up from the stool, I twirled my bracelets around my wrist. “I did a… thing yesterday.”
“Do go on, son, and tell me what I’m about to get involved in.”
Warmth spread through my chest as I realized that he meant it. He was in, no matter what I was about to reveal. Which meant I might as well speak plainly.
“I broke into Miss Barb’s house and took stuff out of Bree’s old bedroom closet as well as a few pictures from the hallway.”
Dad stared at me blankly for several seconds.
Then his mouth opened and closed. And then opened again.
“You’re okay?” he asked as his gaze flicked over me like there might be an injury he couldn’t see or wasn’t obvious. “You’re not hurt?”
I shook my head but then paused. I’d had so much fun with the kids today that I hardly noticed the aching around my shoulder and in my hip and ribs. “No. I’m not hurt. Just a bit of soreness from a small fall.”
