“Can you plan to fall in love?” Richard asked, amused despite the worry churning in his gut.
“You know what I mean,” Molly scolded.
“Yeah. I know.” God, God. What do I do now?
“Richard?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Do you want me to ask Cait if she has any idea where Trevor would have gone?”
He blinked. “Good idea. Otherwise…damn. I don’t know where to start.”
“You know, he probably went to a friend’s to cool off.”
“Would he have packed as much as he could carry if that’s all he had in mind?”
They went back and forth a few more times, but, truth was, neither of them had any insight into his son’s current, convoluted thinking. Who knew what was eating at Trevor? Richard suspected that he’d walked in on some strange man “doing” his mom—but why had that triggered rage at his father, too?
Molly called back twenty minutes later to say that Cait would make a few phone calls and was going to “think about it.”
“Tell her thanks,” Richard said.
He called Bree and told her Trevor had taken off, and if he contacted her would she please let him know. She said she would. He tried eventually to go to bed, but sleep eluded him. His eyes were gritty come morning, his movements slow and heavy, foreboding hanging heavy over him.
He went into the office where he pretended to be working on the computer. There was no way in hell he’d actually accomplish anything or could manage real human interaction.
He phoned Molly midmorning. When she took the call, the first thing she said was, “No word?”
“Nothing. I assume you’d have let me know if he’d showed up for class.”
“He’s absent.” She hesitated. “Cait’s talking to some of his friends.”
“Will the coach throw him off the team if he doesn’t show for practice this afternoon?” One of those unpleasant thoughts that had come to him during the night.
“No. He won’t be happy, but all Trevor will get is a warning. He may get benched for the Friday game, though.”
“He deserves to be,” Richard said grimly.
“Missing practice is one thing, though. If he doesn’t show for the game…”
Richard swore. “I can’t believe he’s throwing his future away because he discovered his father isn’t a monk.” Regretting the way his voice had risen, he glanced at his closed office door. It wouldn’t shock him if his receptionist, Jeanne, had her ear to the other side. She did like to gossip.
“It hasn’t even been a day yet,” Molly said gently. “Don’t write him off so quick.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He managed a wry smile. “Thanks, Molly.”
After hanging up, he wished he’d ended the call by saying “I love you.” He knew this wasn’t the time to have that talk with her, the one where he found out whether she was thinking about a future with him. But he wished they’d already had it. He’d like to know they were a solid team, instead of being torn in different directions by their respective kids. He felt pretty confident that Caitlyn had not given her mom a thumbs-up and said, “You go, Mom.” She was used to having her mother to herself, to being the center of attention, and no way would she like losing the spotlight. Especially when she was in the middle of the performance of her life.
And I’m being a jackass, he thought, but couldn’t take it back. In her own way, Cait was being gutsy. Is she spoiled, or am I jealous because Cait does hold center stage in Molly’s eyes? Lousy thought.
Hell, being thirty-seven didn’t guarantee complete maturity.
The rest of the day was hellish, the night more so. He left another message on Trevor’s phone. This time all he said was, “I love you, and I wasn’t open with you. That was wrong.”
What he was thinking was, You’re still my little boy. Ten fingers, ten toes. Please come home.
* * *
SPRAWLED ON THE BEANBAG chair, Trevor was tempted to delete his father’s voice mail without hearing what he had to say, but in the end he couldn’t resist listening. After the second one, he muttered some words.
Cait had left two messages, too. Hers was the last one.
“You’re a jerk for running out on me. How come I had to talk to them and you didn’t? It wasn’t your mother that was half-naked.”
He snorted. You want to bet? Been there, done that.
“I wish you’d call me.” Now she sounded sad. “We’re all really scared, Trevor. Even your dad. You promised…” She broke off. He could hear the deep breath she drew. “Just…will you call me, at least?”