Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
D ad’s not singing to the Led Zeppelin song blasting from the car speakers like he usually would. He’s just staring out the windshield while I lie in the backseat, gazing at the roof of the rental car he picked up after he landed in Indianapolis late last night. Or this morning, or…whenever. Don’t know what day or time it is, just that everything is lost. Mei. Our life together. My third chance at Stanford. The meeting was supposed to be this morning. And here I am, taking up the entire backseat while Dad drives me back to San Francisco, Mei-less. Broken in so many ways. And I can’t bring myself to care. I have too many questions and no answers. No motivation to call Stanford and beg for a fourth shot. I want everything to stop. The pain, my thoughts, this car that’s taking me in the direction I wanted to go a few days ago, but now none of it even matters. Not even Stanford. Yeah, the car’s speeding forward, but I’m going backwards off a cliff. And that’s fine—I prefer not to see my final moments. Though honestly, Nick pretty much killed me.
Dad heard about Nick being in Indianapolis before I called him. Guess he had a few of his guys keeping track of Mei and me since we left Stanford. Apparently, he knew I wasn’t going to show up with Mei when he told me to. And he never turned us in. Just kept an eye on us from a distance. I should be mad, but I’m too relieved I don’t have to tell him everything that led to this point and relive it. He knew stuff about Nick and knew Nick would be after Mei. His informant called him after Nick shot me, then the department secretary handed him an anonymous message, detailing where I was, and Dad was on a plane two hours later. There’s only one person who knew where I was. She didn’t wanna deal with me, so she called my dad.
By the time I worked up the courage to call him, he was on his layover, pacing the airport. He sobbed when he heard my voice. I sobbed when I heard his, and when he finally made it to me, he’d hugged me for ten minutes. I’d cried for all ten. All the awful things we’d said to each other—and all the things I hadn’t said before I left San Francisco—got flattened in that hug.
Dad had helped me pack whatever was left and carried everything to the car while I’d picked up Charlie in his carrier. He hasn’t been himself since Mei left, and I totally get him.
When the apartment door closed behind me, I’d locked the old anger toward Dad inside. Tried leaving every Mei feeling and memory behind too, but they clung to me.
We won’t get home until tomorrow. Lots of cross-country driving time for Dad to ask questions, but he still hasn’t, so I lie in the back, waiting. I don’t even have a clue where to start the conversation.
Dad clears his throat. I tense, focusing on the pain in my leg that no Ibuprofen is touching. He changes lanes, speeding through whatever state we’re in. Thankfully, not Indiana anymore. If only all my hurt and memories had stayed there.
“What’s going through your head right now, son?” He turns down Zeppelin, and I want to laugh for the first time in days. Nothing’s going through it. Everything’s jammed inside it, wrestling for room, but there’s no place to go. All I can say is, “Not sure.”
He nods, stretching in his seat. He’s been driving for nine straight hours, only stopping for bathroom breaks for all three of us and to load up on caffeine.
“Embarrassed you had to keep me balanced while I used the urinal,” I add.
He gives a half-hearted, one-syllable laugh. “You forget, I potty-trained you. At least now you know how to aim.” I can see his jaw working from back here. “Marcus, I…”
I hold my breath. Is this where he tells me he told me so? Or that I brought this on myself? That he knew Mei was trouble, and why didn’t I listen to him instead of getting myself messed up?
“I wish I could’ve helped you sooner. With a lot of things.”
I release my trapped breath. Didn’t expect that. Not sure what to say. I have comebacks for everything else but that. Not sure how I feel about it.
“I’m so thankful you’re alive.” His voice cracks, and I blink back tears that were waiting for an excuse to break through.
“Why didn’t you turn us in?” I ask, swiping at my eyes. “After you came to Stanford and gave me a deadline I didn’t keep?”
Rain drops fall on the windshield, and Dad flips on the wipers. Silence fills the car until he finally responds. “Because you’re more important to me than my job. What you want matters to me. Even if it means bending some rules, M.C.”
That’s all it takes. I lose it, and I’m fine with the tears sliding down my face. I’ve lost everything else, so why not all my dignity? Those initials—the nickname I haven’t heard since I left San Francisco—pushes out all the tension, and we both cry silently for miles.
When I can finally speak again, I say, “Thanks for coming, Dad.” I swipe my eyes again, my face raw. Sniffing, I wipe my face with my shirt, my chest a little less tight.
He laughs and sniffs. “Uh, yeah. I’ve wanted to show up at your door more than a few times.”
I don’t blame him for staying away. Not after what happened between us at the Stanford soccer field. Not after I betrayed him and went to Olivia’s. Even though he doesn’t know, I do, and I hate myself for ever blaming him for protecting me from her.
But maybe if he’d shown up in Vegas or Indiana, I wouldn’t be like this right now. Maybe I would’ve been ready to listen to him and put my life back together before it exploded for good.
When I don’t respond, Dad keeps talking. “But I knew you needed to be on your own. Make your own choices. I’d like to know all about your last seven months. We’ve got fifteen hours of driving. And I’m not worried about you getting mad and running off again. If you do, I’ll definitely catch you this time.”
A laugh huffs out of me. “I’m gonna give up running permanently. That’s all I’ve been doing since I left San Francisco. I’m done.”
“Maybe, once your leg heals, you can just ride your motorcycle instead.”
My neck tenses with yet another confession that needs to come out but doesn’t know how to find an exit big enough. I picture the bike parked in The Palazzo parking garage, abandoned. Definitely impounded by now. “I don’t have it anymore.” The words scrape up my throat, shame scorching every place they touch
“I know. Because I’ve got it.”
My heart trips. “What?”
He nods in the front seat. “Yeah. It was registered to me, so I got a call from a security company in Vegas.”
Thoughts skid across my head, brake, U-turn, and speed around my brain like they’re on a racetrack. “So you…went and got it?”
“Had it shipped. That’s how we figured out Nick was on your trail. You never would’ve left it otherwise.”
I run my hands down my face. He keeps things that are abandoned. He kept me when Olivia walked away, and he kept my bike when I walked away. I almost spill everything about meeting Olivia, my heart in my throat, but I swallow. I don’t wanna talk about her right now. “You can keep it. It’s yours.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “We can talk about that later. And you can tell me how it ended up in a parking garage. Or you can wait on that, too.”
“Later.” I push away memories and sadness and loss. I shove them so far down, they’re like a rock in the bottom of my stomach.
“Figured.”
The rain pelts the roof and Dad slows, flicking the wipers to the fastest speed. I have to say…pretty impressed you made it this long and far. You did a great job of flying under the radar. Coming from a guy who finds people for a living, I’m impressed.”
He uses “you.” Not “you and Mei.” There is no more “us”. She’s still under the radar after throwing me right in front of it.
My chest combusts, and I’m breathing fire. I clutch my shirt over my heart and try to roll to my side to absorb the shooting pain in my leg. The question I’ve been avoiding floats in the pain, rising to the surface. If I don’t let it out now, it’ll gnaw at me until it tears its way out. I clench my teeth, breathing through my nose, and let words slip out. “Do you know where she is?” I can’t say her name.
“No.” Dad’s answer is tight, clipped. “No flags, no trace. Yet.”
I nod like I can slide his answer into place, like the final puzzle piece in my acceptance. “Okay.”
“Look, Marcus, I?—”
“I don’t really wanna talk about her right now,” I choke.
His eyes are heavy on me through the rearview mirror. “That’s fine. I get it. You know I do.”
He definitely gets it. He knows all about this feeling. But does he know I went and saw Olivia, the reason he knows it? Not bringing that up now or maybe ever. I don’t wanna talk about her, either. Or hurt him more than I already have.
“Listen. There’s something I need to tell you. Not sure how, actually.” He turns on his blinker and switches lanes. “I might’ve known where you were during the last six months but… didn’t know how long you’d be gone. Wasn’t sure if you’d come home or call eventually or…I just didn’t know.” He shrugs. “I wanted to give you space. I knew that’s what you needed—to make decisions on your own. So I made some decisions of my own, too.” His confession hangs in the air, waiting for the rest of whatever he’s going to drop on me.
When I don’t say anything, he shifts in his seat and goes on. “We should talk about Kenna.”
My stomach ices. Her name means betrayal and the end of my life with Dad as I knew it. It’s a name that happened on the same dark night that set my life loose like a wild animal, chasing me to this moment. It means someone who came between Dad and me, and I?—
“You’re gonna see a lot of her.”
“Why’s that?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “We got married. I would’ve told you—asked you—but…” He shrugs.
I roll to my back again. Death blow delivered.
“I didn’t know when I was gonna see you, Marcus.” Dad’s voice is tight, edging around the corner from driver seat to backseat. “Didn’t know if I should wait or call you. So?—”
“When?” I cut him off, staring at the roof and wishing I could eject through it.
“Almost two months ago. November 30 th .”
Mei and I were in Indiana. Dad’s married, I’m married. Am I?
My next question bubbles. Not like gum or soap bubbles. More like lava, boiling hot and turbulent. “Did you move? From The Clubhouse?”
He shakes his head. “No. She moved in. You’ll meet her when we get home.”
Home? No such thing. My brain powers down, and I close my eyes, hoping when they open, I’m in a different place, different life…or even better, that they never open at all.