Page 50 of Scars Run Deep

It seemed so surreal with the existence I was living now, what I was caught up in.

So much had happened lately that I’d been moving rapidly from one situation to another, fighting to adjust from this to that with basically no reprieve. It had been all go-go-go.

And because of that, I hadn’t even checked in with him.

He was the type who wouldn’t bother me, thinking that he’d be interfering in a young adult’s life if he did that, or something. So, for him to reach out first like this meant he was really worried.

Shit.

Maybe being so busy and caught up in this crazy whirlwind here hadn’t exactly been the only reason that I’d stopped myself from reaching out.

Uncle Drew was a source of comfort for me. A soothing familial tie and a root to my past, to the person I had been before I’d embarked on this mission three years ago, before I’d begun my training to be able to step into a dark, twisted, and brutal world. I’d been worried that connecting with that old, innocent, and naïve part of me—what I considered the weaker version of me before I’d evolved and strengthened—could hamper my efforts here, could have that weakness seeping into me and infecting me in ways that would make it dangerous for me to continue operating here in Hexwood and holding my own with the guys.

Aurora: So sorry for the radio silence. Things are good. Busy, but keeping my head above water. Approaching the finish line of a particularly tough Econ assignment, proud of how it’s turning out.

Uncle Drew: Glad to hear it.

Aurora: How are things with you?

Uncle Drew: Not bad. A little lonely.

Aurora: Are you all right?

Uncle Drew: Yeah, it’s just on my mind lately. I guess, with Christmas coming up. Been thinking about your dad. Missing him, you know?

I stilled.

He never mentioned my dad.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d thought it would hurt me, if it was too difficult for him to go there, or if had been more than even that.

Aurora: Me too. I miss him a lot. All the time.

Uncle Drew: He was a hero, you know. The real deal.

Aurora: I know. A good man.

Uncle Drew: Maybe you come home for Christmas and we do a little tribute for him?

I slumped down on the edge of my bed.

What was happening?

First bringing my dad up and now offering to do some sort of tribute in his memory?

To say it was unprecedented didn’t really cover it.

Was he drinking again?

Shit.

After my dad had first been declared dead—back when I’d actually believed it too—he’d slipped into a very dark space, drinking heavily, not showing up to the garage because of it and putting his livelihood at risk. Fortunately, over a few months, I’d helped him to come out of it.

Aurora: You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?

Uncle Drew: Would you?

I started.

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