Shit. Hell. Damn. He thought some other words, too, then groaned and hit Send. He had promised to stick with her through this.
She answered on the first ring. “Trevor?” It came out shocked.
“Yeah, it’s me. You guilted me into calling.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“Yeah, you did.”
She sniffed. “Maybe.”
He found he was smiling, and was glad he was alone. The guys whose apartment he was crashing at were all out. Two of them had classes at the community college and the third, Alonzo, worked at a gym. It was actually Alonzo whom Trevor knew; he’d graduated from West Fork and had been hanging out with some of his teammates who were still seniors. He’d been surprised when Trevor showed up asking if he could stay for a day or two, but had been cool with it.
“You okay?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah. Mom and I talked, and…wow, I so wish I hadn’t found out about your dad like that, but she really likes him. I mean, he’s an okay guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Trevor’s mouth twisted. “I’m still mixed-up about him, but…yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Everett. You know Alonzo Baker? I’m at his place.”
“Oh. Um, I hear Coach Bowman is really steamed.”
He winced.
“I wish you’d come home.”
“Uh.” He hadn’t made up his mind until right then, but…shit, what were his choices? “I guess I will.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I meant to keep going to L.A., but that was stupid.” He paused. “Have you seen my dad?”
“No, but he and Mom keep talking. He’s totally panicked.”
Part of him thought, Good, but he was also embarrassed. He’d acted like a little kid, completely uncool. And it wasn’t because he’d thought his father never got any, although probably that’s what they all believed. It was because… He shifted uneasily.
“How will you get home?” Cait asked practically.
“I can either wait until Alonzo can bring me or go out and hitch.”
“There’s probably a bus.”
Maybe, but he didn’t want to try to figure that out. He didn’t say anything.
“I wish I had a license. But I know your dad would come and get you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Trevor said.
“Okay.” She was quiet for a moment, then said in a rush, “I’m glad you called. I was really freaked.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry the way I ditched you.”
“You should be.” That was more tart. More her.
After she was gone, he wondered if she’d tell her mom who’d tell his dad where he was and that he was thinking of coming home. Probably, he concluded. He stared down at the blank screen on his phone.
What was he waiting for? He knew what he was going to do. So do it, all right? His hand shook a little as he scrolled to his father’s last call and pushed Send.
* * *
THE HOUSE WAS A TYPICAL student-crash-house dump a few blocks from the community college in north Everett. Richard had taken a year’s worth of classes here to get the basics covered on his way to his own four-year degree. Finding the place hadn’t been a problem.
He’d coasted to a stop at the curb and set the brake when the front door opened and Trevor came out, duffel slung over one shoulder, the strap for his laptop case over the other. He loped across the lawn and opened the passenger door.
“Hey.”
Richard nodded.
His kid shoved his possessions behind the seat, then got in and slammed the door.
They hadn’t said much on the phone.
I shouldn’t have taken off like that.
No, you shouldn’t.
Richard’s offer to pick him up had been accepted. Now what?
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“Here?”
“You hungry?”
Trevor agreed that he was. Of course. Richard remembered at that age his own enormous capacity for food—and he hadn’t still been growing.
He’d passed a Subway on the way, and drove back to it. Once they had their sandwiches, they sat in a booth off to one side.
Richard decided to quit messing around and get down to brass tacks. “What happened with your mother?”
Trevor had started to unwrap his sandwich, but he stopped. One of his hands curled into a fist. For a minute Richard thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he met his father’s eyes.
“She was still married to Davis, and I walked in on her naked. With this guy.” His voice cracked on the last. “He’s an assistant coach at my high school. Way younger than Mom. Like, twenty-five?”
Damn you, Alexa. “She met him at your games.” Richard didn’t even make it a question.