Page 73 of The Torment of Two

I freeze, unable to sit or move, fixated on the crushed expression Dad wears. He’s always so fierce and strong. Seeing him like this is gutting. And Pops? He never gets angry. Like ever. His face is a dark shade of red going on purple like he might burst at any second.

“Sit,” Pops commands, voice harsh.

I jolt out of my haze and stumble over to one of the armchairs. Everything aches in me to sit by Dad, but I don’t think he wants me there. Years and years of self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy claw at my insides.

“What’s going on?” I murmur. “Tell me.”

Pops cracks his neck before turning his glare on me. “How about you tell us, Tristan.”

I dart my gaze over to Dad, who’s begun crying again. Disgust at myself and the entire situation suffocates me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lie, tearing my stare from Dad to my hands. “I don’t.”

Liar, liar, liar.

Pops lets out a huff of disbelief. “Who the hell are you anymore? It’s like I don’t even recognize the man in front of me.”

My shoulders hunch at his words. If I could crawl into a hole right now to hide from this confrontation, I would.

“How do you know?” I still can’t look Pops in the eyes, but I need answers too. “Who told you?”

“Jamie Park,” Dad whispers. “We had quite the conversation this morning.”

Seriously?

Anger quells up inside me, chasing away the crushing sadness. She called my dad up and tattled to him? “Of course she did.”

I feel both my parents’ stares on me and finally glance up to look at them.

“What does that mean?” Dad asks, bottom lip trembling. “Two, how did we get here? Explain. Please.”

Scrubbing my palm over my face, I let out a heavy sigh. “Do we really have to do this?”

Pops growls—seriously growls like a goddamn dog. “Yes, Son. We really do.”

Okay, so no avoiding it.

I really wish Tate were here to mediate this shitshow.

“Did you know Tate’s fiancé is Jude Park?” I cock my head to the side, looking Dad’s way.

“We did.” Dad purses his lips while he and Pops share a weighted look. “Jude hired our company a while back to repair his porch and add a wheelchair ramp. When I learned Tate was a therapist and a very nice young man, I wanted you to see him.”

I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. “I’m surprised you even took the job after that family…”

Dad swallows and his eyes water. “After what, Two? What do you think you know?”

“Think?” I say with a scoff. “Dad, I found the letter from Jamie. I saw the picture.”

“You went through my things?”

“Believe me,” I spit out. “Never made that mistake again.”

Dad flinches at my words. “What has gotten into you?”

“Exactly when did you find the letter and picture?” Pops demands, railroading right over Dad’s question. “Why didn’t you talk to us about this?”

Memories of being nine years old and curious about Santa assault me. Why did I have to go snooping? I found so much more than I’d bargained for.

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