Page 108 of Breakaway

“Yeah,” I interrupt. “That reason is Dad being a judgmental asshole. He’s trying his best, and he’s doing well. If Dad refuses to see that, then that’s his loss.”

“It just seems weird.” Seb kicks at a chunk of snow, sending it across the driveway. “He’s out of our lives for years, and then suddenly he’s back? Why now?”

I work my jaw as I finish clearing the windshield. I know Sebastian has only met Uncle Blake a few times, and he’s nowhere near as close to him as I am, but some support would be nice.

“It’s hard,” I say as I toss the ice scraper into the truck. “I can’t imagine how fucking hard it must be to get sober and stay sober if you’re an addict. He’s here, and he wants to be family. If you came to lunch, you’d see that.”

Seb glances at the house. “Fine. But let’s take Izzy along too.”

We have to wait another half an hour for Izzy to get ready, but eventually we meet Uncle Blake at a lunch place downtown. He’s there already, sipping on a soda while he reads something on his phone. He stands to clap my back, then pulls Izzy into a hug.

“No way,” he says. “Isabelle, you’ve grown up so much.”

Izzy tucks her hair behind her ear. “Hey, Uncle Blake.”

“You still playing volleyball?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m on McKee’s team. Season is over, though.”

“Still got that wicked serve?”

She laughs. “What do you think?”

“Atta girl. What about you, Sebastian?”

“Baseball season starts up soon,” Sebastian says. He leans away from Uncle Blake when he reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder. I just barely manage to not roll my eyes. You’d think I invited him to tag along to lunch with a random stranger off the street, not our relative. “I’m good.”

“Good, good.”

The server comes around and we order. Uncle Blake settles back in his chair, considering the three of us.

“I can’t believe how much you look like Dad,” Izzy blurts.

“Handsomer, though,” he says with a grin. “And with less of a stick up my ass.”

“What are you doing back in New York?” Seb asks. “Coop says you’re here for good.”

“Yes.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m working on finding a place.”

“What about a job?”

“Sebastian,” I snap.

Seb just keeps staring at Uncle Blake. “I don’t even know what you do.”

Uncle Blake scrubs his hand over his jaw. He shaved, so I get what Izzy means; without the beard, he looks just like Dad, except a couple years younger. “I have a few things in the works.”

“Like what?”

“Sebastian, seriously, shut the fuck up.”

Izzy widens her eyes at my sharp tone. I can’t help myself, though. I have no idea what Uncle Blake is doing now, but I don’t care. He could work as a dishwasher, and I wouldn’t give a shit—the important thing is that he’s here, and he’s trying.

“It’s fine, Cooper,” he says. He leans over the table, settling his elbows on the top. “It’s a fair question. I used to work in finance. In the city. When I was in California, I helped develop several businesses.”

“And what? You’re going back to Wall Street?”

“I’m working on it.” He glances over at me. “I have... some debts, though, from rehab. A good treatment center isn’t cheap, and your father refused to help.”

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