29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
DECLAN
I ’d driven to Vivian’s apartment after she’d left me to make sure she got off the bus safely. Then I’d gone home, helped my brothers finish cleaning up my dad’s house, and then made them help me fix my door for the night.
Axel and Slade said nothing about Vivian to me, which was smart. Once the door was fixed they left me alone, and I sat on the couch drinking from a bottle of Absolut until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I wake up close to ten, the sun pounding on my face and a banging at my door.
I get up and find my dad outside my door, hammering some of the salvageable door frame back in. I glower at him.
He takes me in. “I’ll work on the door. Why don’t you shower and change because you look like shit, and then we’ll talk.”
I want to curse him out and tell him to fuck off. But instead I do as he asks, and when I return, my door is back in place and my Dad sits on my couch. He’s distracted at first—the local news is on and he’s gripping the remote tightly as they talk about Palmer Lexington being in the area, checking out boarding schools with his teenage sons.
“Palmer Lexington came into town today with his wife, Sasha Matthews-Lexington, and their son Edrick, to attend an event at Harvard Law School honoring the business moguls youngest son August, who is set to graduate from the prestigious Law School this May. In addition to the graduation Lexington and his older son Edrick, who works for Lexington Worldwide with his father, checked in on some of Lexington’s local favorites from the area, where he grew up ,” the news anchor reports with footage of the billionaire and his family smiling and waving at the camera.
My father looks like he’s about to smash something, but when he sees me coming, he shuts the TV off and tosses me a Gatorade.
“You finally going to talk?” I ask brazenly as I plop myself into my recliner.
“Watch your tone, Declan,” my father warns me. “Hungover or not, I’m still your father.”
I nod. “What’s your number one rule, Dad?” I ask him.
My father sits back with a huff. “No lies,” he says, clearly irritated at being caught by his own words.
“Yup, so the floor is yours.”
“Like I told you last night, I’ve been having more symptoms over the last six months,” he tells me, picking up the conversation where we left it the night before. “I’m working with a neurologist in Boston, and there are a couple of new treatment options I am looking into trying. Next week, I’m having a high-dose steroid treatment at a clinic in the city. They said that should help with some of my symptoms while I get my ongoing treatments set up.”
“I can take you if you need.”
My dad shakes his head. “No, I got it,” he says. “But I’m thinking I’m going to retire sooner than I had expected.”
“Like when?” I ask. My father had planned to stay doing the same shit until Roman got out of high school. I had noticed he had slowly given each of us a little more responsibility, but for him to retire totally means he must really not be feeling well. And that scares me.
“I have a couple of things I need to wrap up, and then I’m going to step back,” he says. “I’m thinking about this summer sometime.”
“This summer,” I repeat back, giving myself a few seconds to let it sink in. “So you’ll divide up what you’re taking care of now between me and Slade and Axel, and—”
“No, Declan, I want you to take it over.”
I shake my head. “No, Dad—”
“Declan, I’ve already talked to Slade and Axel about this, about when I retire. I’ve been sliding it into conversation for years now, before I was diagnosed. This is actually what they wanted, what they asked for.”
“I thought they didn’t know about…”
“They don’t know I have MS, but when I got diagnosed, I started to talk to them more about the future. And separately, they both told me they wanted you to head it all, and for them to work for you.”
“I don’t want to boss around my brothers, Dad. This is supposed to be a family thing.”
He shakes his head. “You’d all be a team,” he tells me. “They both said someone needs to be the leader—take the reins, make the decisions. And they prefer that it is you.”
“I have to think about it,” I say.
He nods.
“Did they find the guys who broke in?” I ask, knowing that was where my brothers were off to last night.
“They are tracking down some leads,” he says, “but they haven’t found anyone yet, no.”
I nod, taking a big drink of my Gatorade.
“So, Roman said you had a girl over last night,” my father says, his tone going for nonchalance.
I knew it would be Roman or Slade. Those two are ridiculous gossips. “I did.”
“Is she the reason you have an empty Absolut bottle sitting on top of your TV?”
I follow his gaze to the empty bottle in question balanced on top of my flatscreen across the room. “How the fuck did I do that?”
“That is a drunk talent, only to be replicated if you get drunk again,” my father informs me. “Now about the girl. Was it Vivian?”
“It was,” I say.
My dad’s face lights up but he works to school it. “So, are things serious between you two?”
“I thought maybe, but now I don’t think so,” I say, drinking more Gatorade, hoping the subject drops.
“Why?” Dad asks, so I give up and fill him in on what happened when I came back to my place last night.
“There is something more to her story,” my father tells me. “What are her parents like?”
“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” I tell him.
“Well, give her space,” Dad says. “She needs time to process everything that you told her, everything it means to her. But she also needs to open up to you. And if she isn’t willing to do that, it may not work out for you two.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but it hurts to think the thing between Vivian and me could be done so soon. I feel things for her—I don’t know what to call it, but it’s strong. And the way I feel when I am with her is indescribable. It’s a feeling I want to experience more and for longer and with her.
“Alright son, well, I have places to visit, and you do too, I bet,” he says, slapping my shoulder as he leaves through the door he just fixed. He’s slow to move, I notice, but he does it.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say as he shuts the door, and the Absolut bottle comes crashing from the TV to the floor, shattering in a million pieces.