Page 39 of Double Booked

“Sorry about that,” Justin said as he closed the door behind us.

“Don’t be, she seemed sweet.”

“She really is. She kind of adopted me when I moved in. Her kids don’t visit much as they’ve all moved away so I try to keep an eye on her.”

“That’s very sweet,” I smiled at him.

There was a faint dusting of red on his cheeks still and I had a feeling Justin wasn’t used to accepting any kind of compliments.

A timer dinged from the kitchen. “Let me get that.”

I followed him through the archway on our right to the small kitchen. The front door opened into a large room with a small table and chairs set with two place settings was pushed against the front window. A couch sat against the left wall with a large TV hung on the wall opposite it. There was a door to the right of the TV that must be a bathroom and a door on the back wall that must lead to the bedroom.

When I stepped into the kitchen, an array of delicious smells hit my nose. Justin was bent over, pulling what appeared to be garlic bread out of the oven. I shamelessly checked out his ass in his dark jeans and when he straightened I quickly averted my eyes.

“That smells amazing,” I complimented.

“Thanks. It’s actually Beverly’s recipe.”

“You two seem close,” I remarked, leaning against the counter.

“We are. I moved here right after college so we’ve been neighbors for years. She’s lived in this town her whole life but she didn’t hesitate to take me under her wing and treat me like her own.”

What would that be like. I wasn’t close to my own grandparents. My dad’s parents had passed away when I was little and my mom’s had their own ideas of how their kids were supposed to be and let’s just say that being the family disappointment apparently ran in the family. Sometimes I could empathize with my mom because I could see how trauma was passed down but we all had choices on whether we put in the work to break it. And most people found it easier to just keep living in it.

“It must be nice to have someone like that in your life.” I said softly.

Justin paused in plating up what looked like chicken fettuccine alfredo and looked at me with unreadable eyes before they softened. “It is.”

He placed a thick slice of garlic bread on each plate and motioned for me to sit. He set the plates down at the small table and returned into the kitchen to grab two glasses of water.

“I didn’t really know what that was like growing up,” he said after we both started eating. “My mom was kind, but my dad was determined to beat that kindness out of her either through verbal or physical abuse. He was a bastard through and through. He wasn’t a drunk although I’ve often wondered if it would be better if he was. Maybe he would be less coordinated.”

I stayed quiet, pressing my leg against his under the table in silent comfort as he twirled a piece of pasta around his fork, lost in thought. “He was a former Marine and had met my mom when he was stationed in Japan. He brought her back with him to this small town when he got out and proceeded to make her life hell. When he would leave for trips, she used to teach me about her culture and make me traditional Japanese food because he used to say he hated the smell of anything she cooked.”

He paused and I asked quietly. “You said she left?” I asked quietly. Justin’s dad did not seem like the type of man who would have taken that well and I was getting a sickening feeling at the picture Justin was painting of his childhood. Part of my writing process was research where I had to get in the mind of not only my lead characters but also the villains and monsters they were chasing. The pattern of behavior that Justin was describing about his dad was one that I had seen countless times before. And it never ended well.

Justin nodded, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. “One day I came home from school and she was just gone. It’s one of the only times I’ve seen my dad drunk. He was furious, shouting and waving a note around that she had left saying she couldn’t take it anymore and left.”

He paused and shook his head, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I didn’t blame her for leaving him. But I couldn’t understand why she left me with him. I’ve made peace with it now. Momma A told me that sometimes when you’re in survival mode like that, you can only see one way out and she took it but…”

He trailed off and I placed a hand on his arm. He smiled but there was no warmth in it. “Anyways, that was why I pushed Colton away in college. I was– am still terrified of becoming like my dad and I didn’t want to risk hurting him.”

“Hey,” I said softly. “You are not like your father. Anyone with two eyes can see that.”

“I’m like him a little bit because I hurt Colton by staying away too and I’m terrified I’ll hurt you too.”

My heart ached for Justin, both the man he was now and the little boy he had been. Our plates are mostly empty so I don’t hesitate to push back from the table and settle in Justin’s lap. “The only way you’ll hurt us is by not talking to us or leaving,” I said. “Anyone can tell you that you are not your father. We are not our parents. We get to make our own choices about the people we want to be.”

I cradled his cheek, willing him to hear me and after a second, his body relaxed and he pulled me closer. I held him, ignoring the way his body shuddered as he fought to compose himself. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like growing up in that household, the scars that it left. And I understood the fear about becoming our parents. But even though I hadn’t known Justin long, I knew he wasn’t like his dad. But I also understood why he had pushed Colton away too. Where was his mom now? Did he ever find her? It sounded like he didn’t.

Justin leaned back and kissed my forehead. “Thank you,” he said. “You stay here, I’m going to clean up.”

I knew he probably wanted a moment to regain his composure so I sat in my chair while he cleaned up. Biting my lip, I glanced towards the kitchen. Justin’s back was to me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and pulled up my email. From my years of book research, I cultivated a network of subject matter experts including PIs and federal agents that were willing to fact check my books for me. One of the PIs I knew lived in Tennessee. I fired off a quick email to her with the details that I knew and asked her to track down where Justin’s mom ended up. Even if he never wanted to see her again, it might help ease some of the shadows in his eyes if he knew she was safe. I couldn’t see her abandoning Justin though so maybe she planned on coming back for him and something prevented her from doing so? Either way, Alyssa was one of the best. If anyone could find her, she could.

I closed out my email and opened my music app. When I was struggling with my family drama, there was a song that I listened to that really helped me. Maybe it would help Justin too. I found the song on my favorite music playlist quickly and turned the volume up as high as it would go.

Entering the kitchen, I pressed play and set my phone on the counter. Justin turned from where he was rinsing off our dishes in the sink. He patted his hands dry on the towel while eyeing me with a furrowed brow as the “Ran in the Family” by Brian Fuller started playing. I held out my hand.

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