Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Dice
It’s for us.
Ibarely get one foot inside Docks before I hear that unmistakable throat clear. Then—
“Dyson?”
Maurice always says my name like it’s got extra syllables.
I wheel my record case to a stop on the way to the booth, where I was about to set up for the night. One day back and I’m already missing my queen with my whole chest. Keeping busy is survival.
I turn to face the man who could be my father-in-law, if Lot says yes. Doubt he’s ready for that. But I am.
Lot’s worried I was just caught up in a moment.
Can’t fault her for that. One minute I’m doubting if I can make it in New York, the next I’m asking her to lock in on marriage.
That’s me. Once I move past fear or whatever’s holding me back, I don’t half step.
I clear the final hurdle and book it to the finish line.
“Maurice,” I say, tone neutral, but my guard’s always up with him.
“I’d like a word. In my office.” No smile. No small talk. Starch-stiff button-down, razor-crease slacks, and posture like I’m about to get audited.
Benny lifts a brow from behind the bar. I shrug. First time I’ve seen Maurice since my return, but I’d bet my grail this summons is about Lot. I stash my case in the booth and follow him down the hall.
He sits behind his desk, arms folded, eyes direct. “Have a seat.”
That’s new. Usually, he barks an order or slaps down a criticism, then waves you off like you’re stealing his air.
Sometimes I get the sense he’s not as cold as he comes off, but it’s still unnerving.
His opinion of me matters more than I’d ever admit out loud, especially now that I’m with his daughter.
I sit, meeting his stare head-on, not showing any cracks in my armor.
“I heard New York was eventful,” he says without preamble. “A newly discovered brother… and father.”
Christ. His poison-tree bullshit sets off my defenses. “You judged me by my mother’s sins. Now you want to judge me by a man I don’t even know.”
There’s a small flicker in his eyes, a slight pull of his head. Barely noticeable. But I’ve seen enough of his stone face to recognize a hit landing.
“I’m not judging you by him,” he says. “His actions are his own. I’ve got no respect for a man who walks away from his responsibilities.”
“Neither do I. I haven’t been in contact with him, nor do I plan to bring him into my life—or Lot’s.”
“He’s already there. Maybe not in person, but in name, in face, in blood. When he was just an abstract part of your past, you could deny his existence. You can’t now. Not when he’s also the father of the boy you’re getting close to.”
“Those are two separate things,” I shoot back. “Damon’s a good kid. I’m not going to reject him because of who his father is.”
“I respect that. Accepting him under the circumstances shows character.”
A compliment? My guard spikes. “Where are you going with this, Maurice?”
“I don’t approve of how fast things are moving between you and Charlotte. But she’s serious about you, and you say you love her.”
“I do.”
His arms unfold, hands coming to rest on his desk, the steel in his spine easing a notch. “Then be the man she needs and deal with your father. Unpacked baggage has a way of spilling out, even when you think it’s locked up tight. I don’t want that touching Charlotte.”
Heat climbs my chest. He’s not wrong. I hate that part. Being told to man up by the one person whose respect I want. I could stand on a fool’s ego, but I’ll be damned if I give him another reason to doubt me.
I nod once, still holding his stare. “I’ll handle it.”
“See that you do.”
His tone irks. I can’t wait to get out of there. I’m halfway to the door when his voice halts me. A bit softer this time, but still heavy in importance.
“Years of silence and unanswered questions… that’s not the kind of weight you want to carry forever. Don’t just do this for Charlotte. Do it for yourself too.”
I’m speechless. It’s not friendly. It’s not approval. Or a personality transplant. But it’s something.
Hayden’s number hit my phone last night with Damon’s excitement bursting through his messages.
You really going to talk to him!! That’s huge!!!! He’s waiting on your call!!
Enthusiasm is part of Damon’s personality.
Things I’m learning about him. Like he’s funny, loves clowning around, jams on all genres of music, obsessed with building Lego sets.
Hardworking but average grades. Big crew of friends, mostly ballers.
No girlfriend yet but crushing hard on this girl Jada.
Shyer than I was, he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask her out.
My brother. Damn. That word still doesn’t quite roll off my tongue, but it’s loosening up.
Now, coffee cold on the counter, I’m staring at the contact he sent—Hayden Watts (Dad)—like it’s a grenade pin. One pull and everything I’ve buried deep explodes wide open.
Just do it, my brain shouts. I shift on the kitchen stool, thumb hovering, then tap. Shit. Two rings. I’m tempted to hang up, but he answers. Must have my number because he says my name.
“Dyson?” Deep voice. No familiarity. But hearing it punches my throat.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d call.”
“I wasn’t sure either.”
“It’s good to hear from you.”
I got nothing to say to that.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for being so kind to Damon.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know. But I appreciate it all the same.”
I lean forward, staring into my cup. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Maybe some clarity. Maybe nothing. You raised one son and left the other. Don’t know what kind of man that makes you. But it’s fucked up.”
“You’re right,” he says, the words traveling on a heavy breath. “I’m not proud of it, and I won’t make excuses. But I owe you answers. I’d like to see you. In person. I can come there.”
Bayside? My town. The place where he left me. No. “We can meet in Chicago.”
“Anywhere you want. I can fly out tomorrow.”
That soon? I rub my jaw. Might as well get it over with. “All right. Text me the time. We can meet at the Hilton connected to the airport.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dyson.”
I don’t like my name in his mouth, but there it is. Steady and even.
Me, on the other hand, I’m jittery as hell. Like I’ve had too much espresso when I haven’t even finished my first cup. I hang up and pace, needing to move. But more than that… I need Lot.
I FaceTime her. One ring and she picks up. Hair in a lopsided pineapple, face so beautiful it makes my chest hurt.
“How’s my queen?”
“Missing her king.”
I grin but she peeps right through it. “Did you call him?”
“Yeah.”
Her expression is layered—worry, curiosity, support. “How do you feel?”
“Confused.” I scrub my hand over my face.
“He was… composed. Sounds like one of those together brothers. Not a deadbeat. Grateful I was receptive to Damon. Not defensive when I called him out. Wasn’t expecting him to be so…
fucking nice. It was easier to think of him as an asshole.
I don’t know what to do with that.” I pace the living room.
“You don’t have to do anything with it,” she says softly. “Both things can be true. He was an asshole for leaving you. But he could be a better person now. That doesn’t mean you can’t be mad just ’cause he seemed nice. Feel what you feel.”
“Thanks, baby. Head’s all over the place. We’re meeting in Chicago tomorrow.”
“Wow.” She’s already moving, grabbing something off-screen. “Let me check flights. What time?”
“I got this, Web.”
She stops, peers deep into the screen. “You don’t want me there?”
I hear the hurt, the concern that I’m taking steps back.
“This isn’t me not leaning,” I tell her. “I know you have my back wherever you are. But I gotta walk in on my own stead and face this man.”
Lot nods, understanding. “Do it the way you need to. Just make sure you’re doing it for you and not because of my father pushing before you’re ready. He overstepped.”
She’s always run interference between me and Maurice.
I don’t want that to keep happening. “I didn’t like his involvement at first, either.
But Maurice can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.
You don’t have to step in for me, Lot. He was right.
He wants to protect you, and I can’t be mad at that.
He told me straight up to deal with my shit.
Gave me the kick I needed so you won’t have a man still half stuck in the past.”
“Don’t just do it for me, Dice.”
“It’s for us, Lot. You deserve a husband with both feet planted in the present, and ready to step into the future with you.”
Her eyes glisten, but she’s still questioning it.
“Told you I’m gonna wife you up, Web.”
“I don’t need a ring or a piece of paper. I just need you.”
“You got me. All of me.”
“I wish I could touch you and kiss you right now.”
“I want that too, baby.” I drop onto the couch, already warm. “What body butter are you wearing?”
“A new one. Raspberry parfait.”
“Mmm… sounds like something I’d lick off your nipples.”
She flashes me. Big and round with hard tips.
My groan’s instant. “Damn, Web.”
“That’s all you get for now,” she teases and slides her top back in place. “Gotta go or I’ll be late.”
“Go where?”
“Taking Queenie to playtime at Paws-itive.”
“You’re joking.”
“Dreya says socialization with other cats is ‘developmentally nourishing’.”
“Is that kumbaya code for it will stop her from tearing shit up?”
“She doesn’t do that anymore.”
“How’s Gob?” I ask, one brow arched.
“He’s lost the other eye, and I had to stitch up his arm. But to be fair, that’s her toy, not my stuff. She’s a changed woman.” Lot lifts Queenie into the frame.
“Hey, Queenie.”
Her ears perk up in recognition of my voice. “Meow.”
“I think she misses me.”
“Both your pussies do.”
I laugh. Lot’s a trip. The best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Call me later, Web, and I’ll take care of you. Make that pretty little kitty purr.”
“Ooh, it’s a date.” She blows me a kiss, then the screen goes dark.
With her gone, earlier thoughts resurface… and the unsettling fact I’m meeting Hayden Watts tomorrow. A man who doesn’t sound like the villain I’d built up in my head for thirty-four years.