There was a short pause.
“My son Jordan said he was having dinner with Stormy.”
There was a pause, longer than before.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Yes.”
His next breath sounded unsteady.
I couldn’t breathe.
“If it’s not too much trouble…” Another pause. “Could someone possibly pick me up?”
I closed my eyes.
Twenty-two years disappeared in the space of a heartbeat.
I’d know that voice anywhere.
Richard.
For a second, I forgot how to speak.
“Dad?” Jordan asked.
I swallowed.
“Your father’s truck broke down.”
Stormy stood.
“I can drive you.”
“No.”
The word came out much faster than I intended.
Two pairs of eyes turned toward me. “I mean…” I forced myself to breathe. “It’s only a couple of streets away. I’ll take you.”
Stormy frowned.
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.”
Jordan smiled politely.
“Thank you.”
The drive took less than five minutes.
No one talked much.
Stormy and Jordan chatted quietly about a restaurant they’d been meaning to try, while my hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles turned white.
