“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I pat his shoulder before getting out of the car.
I shut the door, and I get my ball cap from my jacket pocket and put it on. I pull the peak low, more out of habit than anything. I’m not exactly at risk of being mobbed here.
I walk the short distance down the tree-lined path, and then I cut across, heading for Jonny’s grave. I slow my pace as I approach, my eyes landing on his mother’s headstone.
Lyn is buried next to Jonny. Bob has the plot on the other side of Jonny for when he—
I don’t want to think about that right now.
Coming to a stop at the foot of Jonny’s grave, I crouch down, getting to my knees, and I press my hands to the grass. “Hey…so I met Storm earlier. God, I can’t believe you have a son, Jon, and you never even got to meet him. It just feels…wrong. But I’m gonna take care of him. You don’t have to worry. Your dad and I, Tom and Den, too—we’ve got his back. Anything he needs…”
Driving my hand through my hair, I blow out a breath.
“He’s so much like you…it…” I turn my eyes away from his headstone, my fingers curling into the grass. “It fucking hurt to look at him. How crazy is that? It hurt to look at a kid. And I know, if you could right now, you’d tell me to shut my pussy ass up, get the fuck out of here, and go see your kid.
“I just…I wanted to see you before I saw him again. I was kinda hoping you’d show me a sign or some shit at how to best handle this with Storm. He’s angry, Jon. He’s thirteen, and his mom is dying. He just found out about you being his dad, and he’s pissed.
“Honestly, I’m pissed for him. I’m…fucking mad at you for dying. I’ve always been mad at you for that—now, even more so. Why the fuck did you get in your car that night.” I grit my teeth, shaking my head. “I just wish…I wish you’d known about him, Jon. Maybe it would have changed things. Made you stop using drugs. Maybe you would never have gotten in your car that night—no, not maybe. You wouldn’t have. I have to believe that. I have to believe that, if you’d known about Storm, then you would have sorted your shit out and got clean for him.”
Shaking my head, I let out a humorless chuckle.
“Hindsight—it’s a motherfucker, ain’t it?”
I stare ahead at nothing for a moment. Then, I push up to my feet and put my hands in my pockets. I look at Jonny’s name etched deep into the headstone.
“I miss you, man.”
Then, I turn on my heel and head back to the car.
When we pull up in front of the bakery, it’s closed, but the lights are on.
Bob and I exit the car. Dave isn’t staying this time. He’s going to have dinner with an old friend and come back to pick us up in a few hours.
I knock on the glass door. A few seconds later, Marie appears. She unlocks the door, letting us in. She isn’t smiling at me, but she isn’t scowling either, so I take that as a good thing.
I hear Dave’s car pulling away as Marie closes the door behind us.
“Go on up,” she tells us.
I lead the way, and Bob follows me through the back and up the stairs. When I reach the landing, I knock on the apartment door.
I hear voices behind the door. Then, it opens, and Storm is standing on the other side.
Only a few hours ago, I saw him, but the sight of him is still a sucker-punch to the heart. I wonder if seeing him will ever stop hurting.
“Hey,” he says in a low tone, his eyes sweeping the floor. “Come in.”
He stands aside, so Bob and I walk in.
There’s an awkward moment where we’re all standing in the hallway with no clue about what to say.
“Mom’s already at the table,” he says.
He starts walking, so we follow him. He turns into a kitchen with a small table in the center. Tiffany is sitting at it. She doesn’t look well—not that she looked well earlier, but she seems a little worse now.
I start to wonder if we should be here. She looks like she needs rest.
“Hey,” I say to her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She gives me a bright smile, but I can tell it’s forced. “Sit, please.” She gestures to the empty chairs.
Storm sits opposite Tiffany, so Bob and I take the two seats opposite each other. Lasagna and salad are already on the table.
“Looks great.” I gesture to the food.
“I can’t take credit. Marie made it for us. I don’t get to cook much nowadays.” Her smile is forced again.
“I don’t cook ever.” I laugh.
“Yeah, you probably have a maid to do all that for you,” Storm mutters.
Okay…
I see a look transpire between Tiffany and Storm.
So, I chuckle and say, “Well, I wouldn’t call my wife a maid. I wouldn’t dare. She’d have my ass if I did.”
Even though Tru would look amazing in a maid’s uniform. Maybe I should buy her one—for bedroom purposes only, of course.
“You don’t have house staff?” Storm frowns at me.
“We do have a cleaner who comes in a once a week to help out, but we have three kids, and my wife works. That’s it though.”
He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me.
“I do have staff…people who work for me at the label.”
My eyes flicker to Bob, realizing what I’m talking about—the label that Jonny and I set up together. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.