Ditto to personal space.
He’s always been a hugger, and that instinct’s only grown in the past few years. Probably a side effect of losing my mom. I think he misses the physical touch and emotional connection they had, and that breaks my heart whenever I notice.
Little chunks at a time.
Right now, he’s holding on to Bridger like they’ve been bosom buddies for years. A full-on bear hug can’t be far behind. If Bridger had come into my life even one year earlier, he and my father would probably know each other already. But introducing people—even good friends—can be confusing for my dad. At least potentially. I never really know.
Solution: I don’t bring anyone around, for everybody’s sake.
Until now.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” my dad says, hauling Bridger into the house. The place still smells like the Pine Sol I used on the floors yesterday, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks that nothing’s gotten too messy or cluttered.
Yet.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cane,” Bridger starts, then he glances at me, like he doesn’t know how to proceed.
Yeah. That makes two of us.
“Call me Foster,” my dad says.
My ex?No, no, no.
“Wait.” He shifts into a handshake before releasing his grip on Bridger. “No.” He squints. “That’s not right.”
It’s about as wrong as you can get. My stomach knots. From across the room, Noah darts a glance at me and nods, a nonverbal reminder that I’m supposed to give my dad space to figure things out first.
But in front of Bridger, I just … I can’t.
“Harlan,” I say. “Your name is Harlan, Dad.”
“Yes!” His smile bounces between Bridger and me. “I’m glad you two finally showed up. Noah’s already here. But Noah’s always here.”
“Bridger can’t stay, Dad.”
“Of course he can.” More grinning from my father. He’d turn life into one long social gathering if he could. But there are only so many hours in the day I can visit him. Between school and tutoring and, now, possibly waitressing, he’ll be on his own even more.
Too much.
Which is why a place like Havenwood would be so much safer for him. Even better than a live-in caregiver, honestly. I’ve got Ring notifications and trackers on my phone right now. A health-alert bracelet on his wrist. I check in constantly on the phone. Monitor the cameras. But those are stopgapmeasures. At Havenwood, he’d not only have full-time support but also companionship. Community.
He’d have Noah.
But the cost isn’t even close to something we can afford.
I cast a quick glance at Bridger. Could I really let him?—
Don’t even finish that thought.
No. Final answer.
Even if he’d let me, I’d never be able to repay him. Not to mention, relying on someone else is just too … risky. Especially when the fallout involves my father.
I learned that lesson the hard way, when Foster left me. My dad struggled too. He abandoned us both. And we’re a package deal. So I won’t let my relationships impact him.
Not again.
“Make yourselves at home,” my dad booms. He gestures toward the same old sofa and matching armchairs I grew up with. In the corner, there’s an oversized pot that used to sport a ficus. But my dad doesn’t have a green thumb, so we stopped replacing it after my mom died. An abandoned mug and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich sit on the coffee table. Still, there’s nothing too … off.