13. Duncan #3
I called again, and it went straight to voicemail.
"She blocked me," I growl. "FUCK!"
I went to hurl the phone across the room, but a powerful hand grabbed my wrist. "Destroying a thousand-dollar phone ain't gonna help none, son," Dad's voice said.
"Dad?" I turned to see him, shirtless in a pair of shorts, standing behind me. "How long've you been there?"
"Long enough to hear the news," he said. "You know she's just trying to protect you, right?"
I let out a wordless bellow of sheer overwhelmed emotion, yanking at my hair as I paced across the room and threw myself onto the couch.
Dad followed me, perching on the ottoman a few feet away, elbows on knees, eyes tired but full of fatherly compassion and commiseration. "Close your eyes and take a breath, son."
"How the fuck is calling me at four in the morning and then shutting me out protecting me?" I asked.
"She's trying to absolve you of responsibility," he answered. "I'm only guessing here, obviously, but I doubt I'm wrong. She's thinking that only one of you has to have your whole life upended, and since she's the one who's pregnant, it may as well be her."
“Well, that's bullshit," I snapped. "What kind of a man does she take me for? She wouldn't even let me get a word in edge-wise.”
Mom settled on the ottoman beside Dad, and they tangled fingers without so much as a look at each other, as if it was blind instinct or second nature. "Because she's scared out of her damned mind, Dunc. She was probably worried you'd try to change her mind."
"Uh, yeah, because I'm going to." I sat up and faced them. "I can't just let her shut me out of this. It can't be all on her—we both are part of it, and one way or another, that's my child, too.” I heard the words come out of my mouth and groaned. "What a fucking mess."
Dad gripped my knee and squeezed. "First thing you gotta do is get some sleep. You're no good to anyone an exhausted disaster. And then you go find her. You talk to her face-to-face, and you figure it out."
"I just…what's the solution? She lives in LA, I live here. I can't move there, and it doesn't seem like her moving here is an option either. And neither is going back and forth. I just…I don't know what to do."
"One step at a time, honey,” Mom said. "Like your dad said, get some rest. And then tomorrow come up with a plan, okay?"
My eyes burned. "I really fucked up."
"Takes two to tango, bub," Dad said. "This is life. Shit happens, you deal with it, and you make the best of it. I don't know this girl. Seems like you barely do yourself. What I do know is that we raised you to take responsibility for your actions."
"I will, I swear," I whispered. "I just…I gotta figure out how to get her to let me."
"We've got your back, son,” Dad said. "We're here for you, and for this girl. What's her name?"
"Rune," I answered. "Rune Rigby."
"Cool name," he muttered. "Just try not to be mad at her for the way she's handling this, yeah? She's scared out of her mind, and fear makes people do crazy, stupid shit."
"Like run away from me without so much as a how do you do,” I muttered. "And then drop a bomb on me at four a.m. And then shut me out."
"Duncan," Mom said, her voice low and soft.
"You gotta move past that emotion. You have to think about her .
This is gonna change your life one way or another, that's a certainty.
But for Rune, this changes literally everything .
Her body, her mind, her emotions, her hormones, her career, literally every single aspect of who she is will be permanently altered by this.
I don't know if there's a way forward in this for you two to be together, but no matter what, you have to start thinking about her and putting her first, whether she lets you love her or not. "
I sighed, scrubbing my face. "I hear you."
"Good." She moved beside me and wrapped her arms around me. And for a moment, I was a little boy again, safe and content in my mother's arms; I let myself have that moment, breathing in the warmth and security of my mother. "We love you, Duncan. No matter what. Always."
"I love you guys too," I said. "I'm glad I have you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You don't have to find out," Dad said. "Love you, kiddo. Now get some rest and face the fuckery in the morning."
Mom whacked him on the arm. "Sebastian Badd, do not refer to a human life as fuckery."
"I mean the situation as a whole, Dru."
I sighed. "I'm too tired and drained for you guys' shenanigans. I'm also too tired to get up. I'll chill here for a minute and then go to bed."
"You need anything, son, you know where to find us," Dad said, getting to his feet.
“I will," I said. "Thanks. Love you."
Mom got up too and preceded Dad toward their room.
I heard Mom shriek a laugh—Dad goosing her butt.
I stuck my fingers in my ears to block out the sounds of them cackling and whispering to each other on the way to their bedroom.
It's a double-edged sword, growing up with parents who are still as hot for each other after twenty years as when they got together.
On one hand, you never doubt their love for each other because you see it every day.
But on the other hand, you see it every day.
They grab each other, make out in the kitchen, make jokes about having just had sex just to gross us kids out, or disappear into their room for half an hour and come back out grinning like fools.
I want that for myself. I always have.
But how do I get there from here?
I pondered the situation on the couch for a while, but got nowhere, and then my eyes started to droop, so I went to my room and collapsed in bed.
I dreamed of Rune.