A Middle Ground
VIKING
Driving around aimlessly trying to find my long-lost kid is not how I expected to spend my evening. The sun beats against my truck, testing the old ranger’s AC.
I check the bus stop not far from Josie’s salon, circling the block twice just in case he clocked me pulling up the first time. There’s nothing but an old man smoking and a couple of empty soda cans rattling along the pavement.
I drive the county road that cuts out of town.
The one people take when they’ve got nowhere to be and too much shit on their mind.
Uneven pavement tilts under my tires while the fields stretch out on either side, barren this time of year after the last summer harvest. I keep my eyes peeled along the shoulder in case he’s decided to hoof it out of here on foot.
The thought of him wandering these roads alone twists something deep in my gut that I don’t quite know what to do with.
It’s Caroline’s diner that I finally find the little shit holed up in.
The neon sign buzzes faintly in the front window, glowing pink against the tinted glass. The bell above the door dings when I step inside, announcing my arrival. The smell of fresh pie and coffee hits me immediately. Two staples you’ll always find available, no matter the time.
The place isn’t packed. It’s that weird stretch of time between lunch and dinner where the crowd thins out, and the booths sit half empty. A trucker lingers over coffee at the counter, taking a break before hitting the highway on the other side of town.
Caroline herself stands at one of the back tables, taking the order of a young couple, her bright hair piled up on her head and a spare pencil tucked behind one ear. She glances up and gives me a quick wave before going back to scribbling down whatever the couple’s asking for.
I slide into the booth across from the fleeing chaos creator. His head snaps up when I sit down. The black hood pulled tight over his head shadows most of his face, and the sight of it gnaws at my steady irritation.
How’s he supposed to know hoods and hats should be removed when entering a building? That’s something my old man drilled into me from the time I could walk. Didn’t matter if it was a church, a diner, or someone’s front porch. It came off out of respect.
But Trenton didn’t have the same opportunity.
Did he want it?
The question side swipes me across the head out of nowhere and leaves me sitting there staring at him harder than I probably should.
Maybe I went about this the wrong way.
I’ll never know why Miranda kept him away from me. She had a decade to come crawling back to the scene of the crime, but not once did I run into her after that day she threw the ultrasound photos at my chest and denied the possibility of the baby being anyone else’s.
I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday.
A chill clung to the air, unusual for that time of year but foretelling the situation to come.
She stood in the middle of the clubhouse, shaking with anger and probably fear, hair whipping across her face as she screamed at me.
I never in a million years suspected she’d flip the script once she actually had proof.
Spiteful little snake probably thought I was getting exactly what I deserved for not dropping to my knees and begging for her to come back.
“You’re still here.”
He shrugs like it means nothing, picking up a fry and popping it in his mouth.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sure you had some picture in your head of how that was going to go, and I’m sorry if I fucked that up, but this is a lot, kid. Your mom and I didn’t leave things on a good note, and had I known you were undeniably mine, I’d have been there.”
“You did know. She told you she was pregnant,” he hisses, keeping his voice low even though no one around us seems to be paying attention.
“I’m sorry about your mom, and I don’t know what she told you, but I didn’t know you were mine. For all I knew, a handful of my brothers could have been your father.”
He flinches, and I know he’s old enough to get my drift.
“I asked her for a DNA test. She yelled and screamed before stomping back out the door, and I never heard from her again. Shit, she could have shown up with you a couple of years later, and I would have taken one look at you and known. You look just like me, Trenton.”
His face pales slowly, the bravado draining out of him as the words settle in. There’s always another side to a story, and I have a feeling the two are colliding in his head right now, grinding together in a way that doesn’t leave much room for the truth he grew up with.
Caroline pops around the corner of the counter and stops beside our table.
“Need anything else, boys?”
Her voice is soft, like she can sense the tension hanging between us. But we both shake our heads. I pull some cash out of my wallet and hand it to her, telling her to keep the change so we can head out whenever we’re ready. She gives me a long look before nodding and walking away.
“You got any other family? Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?”
“Mom’s mom is around somewhere, but I’ve never met her. They didn’t get on, I guess. She never mentioned anyone else. We didn’t exactly stick around one place for me to make friends, and her last piece of shit boyfriend split a couple months ago when the booze ran out.”
Every word he utters fans the flames of my outrage at a dead woman.
I almost wish she were alive so I could settle the score face to face, but she’s already gotten hers.
From what Trenton just told me, it doesn’t sound like her life was worth a damn anyway.
I just wish she hadn’t dragged my son along through the wreckage of it.
“Well, Trenton.” I slide out of the booth and stand, knocking against the table. “I don’t know what your plan was showing up here, but we’ve got a spare room, and I sure as hell would like the chance to get to know you.”
His calculating stare reminds me so much of myself at that age, questioning anyone in a position of authority. He’s trying to gauge if I’m full of shit. If I’m actually the monster his mother painted me out to be. Before too long, he slides out of the booth, stepping into my path.
“I’m not calling you Dad.”
I scoff out a laugh before I can stop it. His directness pulls a grin to my lips. “Vik’ll do just fine. Let’s go.”
The drive back to the house is quick, but the silence between us is thick enough to choke on. The engine hums in tandem with the radio playing softly, neither of us willing to break with small talk.
I school my features when I pull into the driveway and notice Josie’s SUV is gone.
Of course, the damn woman didn’t listen to me.
I don’t know where she thinks she can hide, but there’s nowhere in this town I won’t find her.
Unless she decided to take a play out of Trenton’s book and flee the county, I’ll be seeing her tonight.
We’re going to settle things once and for all.
“Come on. Let’s get you settled in. Did you bring anything with you?”
“Just my backpack that’s already in the spare room, Josie let me stay in.”
He says her name with such fondness, my gut hollows.
My guess is, as terrible as Miranda may have been, I’d still bet my life that he’s missing his mom.
And if there’s one thing my pain-in-the-ass wife has always flourished at, it’s mothering.
The guys. Our daughter. Anyone in need of that maternal nudge, whether they want it or not.
A backpack with all his possessions can’t be much.
A teen on the run, not looking to get picked up and put in the system, probably didn’t have the forethought to grab important documents.
I need to call Ghost and get his advice on how the fuck we go about this legally.
A lawyer in our midst who keeps his distance for the most part is about to come in handy.
“If you need anything else, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.” I offer, even though I have a feeling he won’t take me up on it.
He doesn’t stick around the living room. Instead, he wanders down the hall toward the spare bedroom like he’s already comfortable with the way.
I watch him go, wanting to bridge this unknown space between us, but demanding that we condense more than a decade of getting to know each other into a few hours is laughable. It’s going to take time. And I’ll follow his lead. The last thing I want is to turn around and have him take off again.
Legally, he might not be my responsibility until the papers are filed. That doesn’t mean shit to me, though. The second reality hit me over the head; he became mine in the same way Haley is.
I just hope he realizes what that means for him.
His door slips closed with a soft click, and the house descends into a heavy silence. My skin itches every second I stand here, not knowing where Josie’s at and what the fuck she’s thinking.
I’m being torn in two different directions that need my full attention. The newly appointed paternal responsibility feels as fragile as the newborn I missed out on meeting. Meanwhile, the other half of my entire soul dodges the conversation of a lifetime.
I can’t stay, but I sure as hell can’t waltz out the front door the moment he’s out of my hair.
So I sit on the couch with my elbows on my knees and my head heavy in my hands while the quiet house presses in, strangling me. Time drags mercilessly until the sun sets and Trenton’s passed out for the night.
It’s time to go get my wife.