"He's right," Meg says. She lets a beat pass. "Ask her again. Not because of EJ. Because you want to. If she says no, at least youknow. But ask her like a man who means it, not like a man offering a transaction."
"I've got Church," I say, which isn’t an answer and everyone knows it. I stand up and find EJ across the room. "Hey, buddy. How's the side?"
"Fine." He comes over and I put my hand on the back of his head. "Dad, Dr. Savannah was really cool."
"Yeah, she was." I ruffle his hair and smile down at him. "I've got to go to Church. Stay with Rosie. Don't do anything with your side."
He gives me the look that means he's already planning to ignore this instruction. "I'll be careful."
"EJ."
"I'll be careful, Dad."
Church runs for an hour.Braxton and Meg tracked the shooter's bike back to the Lost Carousel Motel on the road out of town. High Stakes MC, confirmed. They went into Trudy's diner and were overheard talking about moving guns and muscling us out. Whatever they're planning, it's soon.
Prez locks the women and children down formally. There's going to be some noise about that from the old ladies, and I don't envy him the conversation, but it's the right call.
I go back to pick up EJ, take him home and make him dinner. We sit at the table, eating in silence. I keep looking at his sidelike I'm going to be able to see through the dressing if I look hard enough.
"Dad," he says, around a mouthful of pasta. "Dr. Savannah was your girlfriend, wasn’t she?"
I look at him. "Who told you that?"
"You did. I heard you telling Rosie."
I put my fork down. "You weren't supposed to be listening to that."
"I wasn't trying to." He considers. "Why isn't she your old lady now?"
"It's complicated."
"Why?"
"Because I made a mistake a long time ago and it changed things between us."
He chews this over along with the pasta. He's got the same look he gets when he's working out a math problem, like he's identified that there's a solution and he's just locating it. "What kind of mistake?"
I think about how to answer that honestly for a nine-year-old. "I made her think something that wasn't true. Because I thought it would be better for her if she believed it."
"You lied to her?"
"Yeah. In a way."
He's quiet for a moment. "Like when I broke Pops' trophy and told him I didn't do it?"
I look at my son. "Exactly like that."
"But I did it because I was scared he'd be mad at me. Why did you do it?"
There it is. The question I've been carrying for ten years and never had to answer to anyone quite so directly.
"Because I loved her and I was scared that if she stayed, she'd give up things she wanted so she could stay. And I couldn't let her do that."
EJ thinks about this very carefully. I watch him process it, the small shift in his expression as he puts the pieces together. "So, you lied to her because you loved her."
"Yeah."
"That doesn't make sense, Dad."