Caleb laughed, elbowing Trent. “Maybe one of our mates does live there.”
“Or Dom has more than one,” Trent claimed cheekily and I grunted.
“One is more than enough,” I retorted dryly, staring at the motel through the trees. “She’s a handful.”
***
“Dad,” I called, catching sight of him outside my cabin. He turned as I jogged toward him. “Glad I caught you.”
He didn’t speak, his expression withdrawn, and I lowered my head in disappointment. “I can’t imagine what it was like seeing Sam,” I muttered, hoping he’d talk.
“No. You can’t,” he replied, this tone telling me to drop it. I struggled for a second, wanting to push him, but we’d never been big on talking about our feelings. That had always been Mom and Sam, and only after they were both gone did I appreciate what they’d done for us. “What did you want?”
I cleared my throat as I recalled why I’d stopped him. “Trent is going to visit that pack to the north. Feel them out.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” He asked distantly.
“I think information is a good place to start,” I replied. “Anything you can tell me?”
“No,” he said curtly and started to walk away.
“She’s my sister,” I burst out, and seeing him pause from the corner of my eye, I turned my head slightly. “I miss her too.”
His head bowed, but still he didn’t speak.
“We can talk about her, you know.”
“There’s no point,” he answered brusquely as he started walking again. I shook my head in frustration, ready to give up, when I remembered how Sam used to get him to talk.
“There’s bacon in it for you,” I shouted, feeling more than a little ridiculous, but just desperate enough to make one last ditch effort.
He stopped and slowly turned to stare at me. I took it as a good sign, nodding at him. “Maybe that’s what we did wrong, Dad. We didn’t talk.”
His face contorted as his eyes glistened, but I knew not a single tear would fall. We didn’t cry, not a single one of us, not even the day Mom died. Stoic, that was the Navarre family.
“She looked good,” he finally said. “No bruises or anything.” I nodded, relieved by that and thankful. “She looked she’d been eating, hair combed.”
“Good,” I mumbled, not wanting him to stop talking.
His head twitched and he choked up a little as he continued, “She didn’t, um, she didn’t say anything to me.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, staring up at the sky. “She didn’t look at me.”
“Dad,” I said lowly, feeling every ounce of pain that caused him. “Maybe –”
“You know you done wrong when your own child won’t look at you,” he muttered thickly. “Won’t even acknowledge your existence.”
I blinked rapidly, but still one escaped as he said, “I’m sorry, Son. It was my fault….your sister leaving.”
I crossed the few feet separating us and hugged him, the moment surreal since it had been so long and I noticed for the first time that we were the same height. “It wasn’t just your fault, Dad,” I admitted hoarsely. “We both should have done better.”
“Don’t make my mistakes,” Dad ordered, stepping back and holding me by the shoulders. “After your Mom died, I didn’t do right by you or our sister. I let my grief ruin the best thing I had left of her.” He sighed, shaking his head as he let out an unwilling chuckle. “Your sister wouldn’t believe this if she saw it.” I nodded and he gripped the side of my head firmly. “I will do whatever it takes not to make the same mistakes with you.”
“I won’t let you, Dad.”
***
The migraine forming behind my eyes disappeared as she walked in the classroom, pausing in surprise before taking her seat.
“Mr. Parker is out today so I’ll be subbing this hour,” I informed the class, briefly meeting her eyes as I scanned the room for anyone who might take issue with that statement.
Other than a few simpering smiles, no one reacted so I continued, “I’m Coach Dom for any of those who may not know me.” My gaze settled heavily on Jess to make sure she understood. “Parker made it easy on me today. He left a worksheet for you to complete and turn in before the end of the hour. This should help with your test on Monday.”
I chuckled at their groans of dismay. “This is why I teach gym. No tests. Now, get started and I shouldn’t have to remind you to work quietly.”
Once the worksheets were passed out, I struggled to focus on the book in front of me, resisting the urge to watch Jess instead. I lost the battle when the mark flared to life, burning through all of my good intentions. I slammed to my full height, fists clenched as I fought for restraint, my eyes laser locked onto Jess. She lowered her hand from her neck as the entire class watched us.