Chapter 36
Andi
“Would you like some coffee?” Edison offers, clearing his throat. “Ah, actually, it’s a bit late for coffee. Tea then?”
“Sure, tea would be great,” I answer, clinging to the normal offer to keep my mind from spiraling further.
The sun is starting to set, shining through the windows that look out over the city. The light makes the buildings I can see twinkle.
He guides the six of us through the house, pointing the occasional thing out to us.
As we pass his office, a flicker of a memory presses at the back of my mind.
“Did I—did I used to watch you work in there?” I ask, my feet rooted to the floor.
There’s a half-finished edit on the large monitor that’s practically a flat-screen TV in its own right on his desk.
“Yes, you did,” Edison says, a fond smile on his face. “You were always so curious. You asked excellent questions, even though you were so young.”
The walls along the living room and to the kitchen are covered in framed stills from films. His films.
He gets started on brewing tea in the kitchen while I stare, soaking everything in.
“Please, sit,” Edison says to my guys, gesturing to the couches in the living room next to the kitchen.
I guess it makes sense that a house this big would have multiple living rooms.
“So, should we run through introductions?” Edison asks as the tea brews, seating himself in one of the recliners. There are a pair of reading glasses on the glass table beside it.
The guys all glance at each other before nodding, offering Edison a range of expressions from smiles to simple nods.
“I guess I can start us off. I’m Edison Wade, Andi’s father,” he says, beaming at me with so much pride it strikes me dumb. Has my mom ever looked at me like that? Called herself my mother with that much joy? “I’m a filmmaker and videographer.”
“I’m Beck.”
“Eli.”
“Leo.”
“Everett.”
“Cam—Cameron.”
The big alpha is obviously incredibly nervous. It’s funny watching him squirm like this, especially considering the circumstances under which we met. I guess he wasn’t lying when he said he liked my dad.
Edison politely asks the guys questions about what they do, but the conversation is a faint buzz at the back of my mind.
There are too many thoughts running through my head.
The tea kettle whistles from the kitchen, and Edison stands to tend to it.
“I can come with you,” I say, pushing myself up to my feet.
“Please,” he says, that same fond smile still there. It hasn’t slipped for a moment.
Beck shifts next to me, looking up, almost like he’s asking me if I’m okay.
I offer him a single reassuring nod. I’m not sure if I can muster a smile right now. I’m so overwhelmed.
“Any preferences?” Edison asks, digging through a drawer full of tea bags.
“No,” I answer with a shake of my head. “My mom told me you were...”
How do I say this without being an asshole?
Because my mom told me a ton of things about the guy, none of which seem true. A deadbeat douchebag abusive asshole wouldn’t be making tea for me and a bunch of guys he doesn’t know, would he?
Even if he were some sort of manipulative narcissist, you’d think he’d be talking more about himself. He certainly has reason to, if the film stills and awards on his walls are any indication.
And I’ve dealt with manipulative narcissists before. He doesn’t feel like one.
Edison is quiet, patiently waiting for me to finish.
“My mom told me you weren’t a good guy,” I finally say.
“I know what she told you,” he says, reaching up and gripping his neck like he’s massaging away an ache.
The sweater he’s wearing blocks my view of it, but I’m almost certain he’s touching the bond marks.
Are they black and twisted like they are on my mom’s skin?
“Is it true?”
“No.” It’s a simple answer without a hint of defensiveness. “But I understand why you might believe it.”
He sets down a mug of warm tea in front of me, meeting my eyes with his own. Eyes that look so similar to mine.
“Our relationship was... complicated. But I want you to know I never stopped loving you. Never stopped waiting for you to come home.” The cords of his neck stick out as he swallows hard. “I fought for custody. For about a dozen years.”
I didn’t know that.
“My mom said... she said...”
“I know what she said,” he repeats gently. “I’m not going to tell you she’s lying because I don’t think it’s that simple. I think she built a version of events that made sense to her. But I can show you the paperwork if you want to see it.”
I blink at him. He knows my mom. Her chaos. The narratives she picks up and runs with.
“I—I’ve started digging around myself. It’s actually how I found your address.”
“Really?” he asks, that same warm pride sparking in his eyes. “You’ve always been so resourceful.”
“I haven’t had a chance to look through too much, though, just some paperwork about child support. It kind of caught me off guard since I always thought we didn’t have money when I was growing up.”
He blinks, setting down his mug.
“I paid child support until you turned eighteen,” he says carefully. “A significant amount.”
“The paperwork said fifteen thousand a month.” I fiddle with my own cup as I watch something shift behind his expression. A wary, tired sort of exhaustion.
“I always hoped it was going to you,” he says finally. “I told myself it was.”
There’s something soft about the way he talks about my mom. Something that makes me feel like out of the two of them, I don’t think the dissolving of the bond was completely mutual. I think a part of him truly loved her. Maybe still does, despite everything.
“Why didn’t you reach out?” I ask, the softness of my voice not hiding the tremble there.
“I did—when you were a child. Especially in the years after the charges against me were dropped, and I had the recourse to try to fight for custody. But when all those attempts fell through, I had a feeling... that you probably weren’t ready to hear from me.”
“You’re probably right.” I run a hand through my hair. “I think... my mom kind of did a number on my brain.”
His brows draw down and his knuckles go pale from his grip around his mug of tea.
“Did you have a happy childhood, Andi?”
“Happy?” I scoff.
Wrong answer.
Edison’s expression crumples for a split second before he tucks the emotion away.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I thought—I’d hoped that your mother would have gotten better—when she...”
“When she decided to leave you?”
He flinches at my words. It’s strange, having an alpha flinch at something I’ve said. But my dad isn’t like any alpha I’ve ever met.
“Because that’s how it happened, right?” I push. “She wanted to leave you, to break the bond, even though that wasn’t a thing back then?”
“Yes. Are you sure—are you sure you want to talk about your mother right now? I’d rather hear about you. We have so much lost time to make up for.”
My mouth opens and closes as I struggle with what to say.
The two halves of my brain are tearing me in separate directions. Part of me wants nothing more than to talk to my dad and see that look of pride on his face that seems to just... be there. Another part of me desperately wants answers I know I’ll never truly get from my mom.
“I tried to keep up with your life the best I could,” Edison says quietly. “I was so excited when you started posting vlogs.”
“You—you watch my vlogs?” I blink, my jaw falling slack.
“Of course. Do you edit them yourself? They’re very well done.”
“I—I do.” I lift the cup, breathing in some of the pleasant-smelling steam before taking a small sip to ease the lump in my throat.
“And I’d—I’d love to catch up with you, but I’m not going to lie, I have so many questions about what happened between you and her.
I know... I know it probably sucks to talk about, but I’ve never gotten a straight answer out of her. ”
“I’m not surprised,” Edison says, reaching back up and squeezing his shoulder. “I don’t want to speak ill of her, but if this is what you’d like to hear...”
“I need to know. Please.”
Edison nods, his lips pressed in a firm line.
“What do you know of what happened?”
“Honestly, I’ve learned more from the old media articles than I’ve learned from her. I just really know that you... pushed her down the stairs? And then she accused you of physical abuse and unbonded you and took me with her.”
“That was the story that was told to the media,” Edison sighs.
“I didn’t push her down the stairs. She...
she fell down them herself. I was cleared of the accusations, but when the case was brought to trial, it was...
too late. She used the emergency protective order to take advantage of a new bill that’d been recently passed at the time.
One that allowed her to dissolve the bond chemically without my consent. Or awareness.”
“You—you didn’t know your bond was being dissolved before it happened?” I say, blinking at him in horror.
Someone, I’m not sure who, makes a grunt of surprise from the living room.
I guess the guys are listening in. I don’t blame them.
What else is there to do here? I have a feeling that Edison doesn’t mind.
It seems like—despite how reluctant he was to start, now that he’s speaking about what happened—he really wants to get this off his chest.
“No,” Edison says, tugging down the zipper of his sweater and tugging his shirt to the side, showcasing a twisted, scarred, black bond mark. “I only knew when I collapsed here in this very kitchen. Your mother left with you after the fight, but I didn’t know what she was going to do.”
“What—what happened to you when the bond was dissolved?”
“I was knocked unconscious by the process for a couple of days.” There’s a heaviness to his voice, that earlier exhaustion returning.
“I still have to manage... lingering physical repercussions. That original bill has since been changed. It has been edited to require the bondmate to have awareness of the upcoming procedure so they can arrange their own medical care, even if they don’t consent to the dissolution itself. ”