Chapter 20
Note to self:
Fighting is dumb.
Making out up is better.
Theo beat his fingers on the steering wheel, playing some anonymous drum solo. The sound rode my nerves, but I tried to ignore it. Mack was no help in the distraction department. He’d slipped in some earbuds, pulled up a WWII movie on his phone, and proceeded to pretend we weren’t even in the car.
Everything about the last two days was a jumbled mess in my head. I tried to parse it, pick out the important threads and throw the broken ones away but it was all a mess, impossible to untangle. Plus, I didn’t like being angry with Theo but, dang, it stung. This was all so confusing.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. That incessant finger tapping was not helping. “Okay, you have to stop. I can’t take it.”
He tightened both hands, the knuckles turning white. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been tapping your fingers for almost forty-five minutes. You do that when you’re anxious or nervous.”
“I do not.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so.”
With a huff, he shifted in his seat. “I don’t like that you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
“That never means fine,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Abe thought it would be better if you weren’t in the middle of him and your parents. He asked me not to tell you and…” His voice trailed off. “I trust you, Ali. More than almost any other person I know.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “Really? Because it doesn’t feel like it.”
Theo opened his mouth and then closed it, pressing his lips together until they turned white at the corners. The silence between us was heavy and uncomfortable. We’d been on this trip for just over a day and it was becoming more and more apparent—shockingly so—that I didn’t know Theo at all. We’d never had an argument. Oh, sure, good-natured ribbing, verbal sparring, but nothing like this. I’d happily strangle him right now, and I prided myself on never getting angry. Yet, here I was, angrier than Peter that one time someone placed an online ad selling ostrich eggs and told interested parties to text his number for information.
“I was serious. I trust you. You’re one of the most important people in my life.” His voice was all soft and thoughtful and it made my insides all gooey. Jerk. “I don’t want to ever lose you. And, you know, our friendship.”
That took most of the bluster out of me. Dang him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
“Great.”
“Did we just have our first grown-up fight?” he asked.
“It didn’t involve water balloons or shaving cream, so yeah, I guess so.”
The corner of his mouth tipped in amusement. “Who won, do you think?”
“Obviously, me. That’s how these things work.”
“Because you’re a woman?”
“Um, no, because I’m me.”
With a snort, he settled back in his seat, shoulders relaxed. But before long, he was back to his drumbeats, then fiddling with the radio, and shooting several anxious glances in my direction. I pretended to ignore him. If he didn’t want to share his secrets with me, fine. Whatever. It was?—
“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked. Finally.
“Maybe.”
“I haven’t talked to anyone else about this.”
I side-eyed him. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Is this bribery?”
“Kind of?” He sounded serious and a touch nervous. “Please.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“After Mom passed, I put all her stuff in storage.” He stared intently at the road. “I wasn’t in a good headspace to deal with it.”
I murmured a soft encouragement for him to continue.
“So, I’ve been going through it lately. It’s been a couple of years and…it was time.” He swallowed. “I found information about my father.”
“What kind of information?”
“Things I didn’t know. His birthplace, his parents’ names, his high school diploma. Hell, I didn’t even know his birthday until I found all that stuff.”
Theo hadn’t talked much about his father growing up, mainly because he didn’t know anything to talk about. The man had left his wife and son somewhere before Theo turned two. Becky had taken on the job of mother and father from then on. But she never talked about his father. Ever. He was a taboo subject in the Goodnight house. It never seemed to bother Theo, but there had to be a part of him that always wondered.
“That must have been weird.”
“It was.” He frowned. “It is. There was his last known address, too. I guess Mom had someone track him down for child support and stuff. So, I did some searching online and contacted a private investigator. I guess I’m curious about him, you know. He’s lived around Las Vegas, for over twenty years.”
“Oh.”
“I’d always assumed he’d been a drifter or a junkie, or maybe got in trouble with the law and has been in prison this whole time. Or he was dead. Some reason he never came back.” He took one white-knuckled hand from the steering wheel and shook it out. “I guess that was easier to believe than he didn’t want us.”
My heart cracked right down the middle for him. I didn’t think, just took the hand he’d dropped to the console between us and cradled it between both of mine.
“It’s his loss,” I said fiercely.
“Yeah.” His jaw ticked but he laced his fingers through mine and squeezed. A few dragons stretched their wings, and I ignored them. Now was not the time to fangirl over Theo. He needed a friend.
“Have you tried to contact him?”
“I don’t know if I should. I’ve lived my whole life without him. Do I want to open myself up to that? I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him.” He frowned. “I don’t feel anything for him; he’s a stranger.”
I worried my bottom lip. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I think you should see him.”
He glanced at me curiously.
“It can’t be too far out of our way. We could go to his house. Maybe you don’t even get out of the car. We can set up surveillance and wear all black and eat bad convenience store hot dogs and spy on him.”
He allowed a small smile. “That’s a very specific plan.”
I squeezed his hand this time. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. I’m right here.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“Please. I don’t get mad,” I lied. “I know we might not see each other all the time like we did as kids but I’d never, ever not be there for you. You have to know that. You’re, you’re…” Special. Wonderful. The man with whom I was pretty sure I was eighty percent in love. “You’re Theo.”
His thumb drew small circles on the back of my hand. “I don’t believe you.”
I stared down at our hands. “Anger and hurt look a lot alike sometimes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ali. I’ve never wanted to do that,” he said, his voice low.
A lump lodged in my throat. Swallowing hard, I pasted on a smile. “So, staking out your dad’s house? What do you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“It’s a big decision, I get it. Think of me as your right-hand woman. I’m the Robin to your Batman, the chocolate to your peanut butter, the chicken to your waffle, the Bonnie to your Clyde, the cat to your empty box.”
He laughed. “Okay. Okay. I get it. I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
We didn’t talk much after that. I found myself growing drowsy as I stared down at our hands still laced together. My last thought before I drifted to sleep was that I hoped he’d never let go.