Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

I want to hug the boy but don’t dare, not when his gaze is still full of suspicion. He barely knows me. “Dylan loves you very much.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. “He told me.”

Something he told me back when we were together at fourteen and I believed him. What a fool I’ve been.

Numb, I watch as the neighbor comes out and waves at us. Miles thanks me and says something about the ice cream, and I wave back distractedly. I watch him go, watch the guy from next door grab Miles around the shoulders and walk him into his house.

Then I do a U-turn and start back toward my apartment—toward the decisions I have to make about my life.

***

Mom calls me as I drive, and I debate not answering, but in the end I decide I should.

“Honey,” she says, her voice barely audible over the phone. “Your father said you passed by the office today.”

Was it only this morning? It feels like years have passed. “What do you want, Mom? If you’re calling to change my mind about anything, forget it.”

There’s a long pause, and I swallow my irritation. Mom has always been my father’s puppet, his mouthpiece, and I’m not in the mood, not after what I heard today.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, and for some reason that makes me snap.

“For what? For manipulating me into accepting to go to the gala so that Dad could pass me on to Sean?”

“Did Sean treat you badly?”

God, how often have I told them this? “Yes, he did.”

“I’m so sorry, Tessa.”

The hell she is. “Is it true you know about Dad having an affair?” She doesn’t answer, and I don’t know how I feel about this. “How long has this been going on?”

“A while,” she says quietly.

“And you’re okay with it? I thought you loved Dad.”

“No, honey. I’m not sure I ever did.” And then she says, her voice shaking, “I have to go now.”

She disconnects, leaving me shocked, wiser, angry and sad. How can you live with someone you don’t love for twenty

years?

Well… Maybe like I lived for nineteen years trying to please people who can’t be pleased. Maybe my mom and I aren’t so different after all, and the realization is damn scary.

As I pass in front of my building, I check, and the car that looked like Sean’s is gone. Reassured, I drive into the underground parking lot. I’m preparing to park, when my cell rings again, and I connect the call.

“What now, Mom?” I say as I turn off the engine. “You don’t love Dad, we established that. Or are you going to tell me again how sorry you are?”

A silence follows, and I frown.

Then a very male and familiar voice says, “Tessa?”

I grapple for words. “Dylan? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Is this a bad time?”

“No. Not at all.” Can’t remember the last time Dylan called me. I didn’t even know he had my number. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah. Listen…” He moves away from the phone, speaking to someone in the background, then returns. “Thanks for picking Miles up from school. That’s really nice of you.”