Page 87 of Two Wrongs

I clear my throat. “I’m well acquainted with this view. I grew up with it, and unfortunately, I think I passed it on to my son.”

“If he shows up here I can refuse to serve him,” Donovan offers.

“That won’t do any good. He’ll find it somewhere, but I won’t know about it if he goes somewhere else.” I look at my phone and realize I’ve been here for awhile, which means he likely already went somewhere else. Grabbing a cocktail napkin, I scribble down my phone number. “Call me if you see him.”

Donovan nods and puts the napkin in his pocket.

* * *

Harriston isn’ta tourist destination by any stretch of the imagination, but the part of town I am driving through to search for Liam makes the normal neighborhoods look like a resort. Even though I’ve lived here most of my life, there are parts of this town I rarely see. Parts I make a point to avoid is more like it.

Picking up my phone I make a call to enlist some help. “Charlie, it’s me,” I say when he picks up.

“Griff, what’s up?”

“Liam showed up at the house. Right before Wren came home.”

“Shit,” he swears.

“Can you help me look for him? He took off right after and I can’t find him,” I beg for help.

“Where are you?”

I exhale. “My old neighborhood.”

“Shit,” he curses again. “Remind me later to tell you this was going to blow up in your face.”

I touch my swollen cheek. “Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”

Across the street is my old trailer. I’m not even sure why it’s still here in the park. All of the windows are busted and there’s tarp over part of the roof. It’s unlivable, but it would probably cost more to remove it than the space is worth. There are many others just like it, like there always has been.

The stain of this place isn’t something you can wash away. Foolishly, I thought I left all of this behind when I moved out. I was wrong. All I did was pass everything down to my son. I’d failed to prepare him for the risks involved with the genetics he inherited. Melinda’s family also had a history of alcoholism and drug addiction. Maybe Liam never stood a chance.

Charlie pulls up alongside my truck and kills the engine. He gets out and climbs into the cab of my truck. “Why are you here, Griff? There’s no reason he’d come here.”

My hands squeeze the steering wheel. “I don’t know.” My voice is quiet, almost inaudible. I clear my throat. “I don’t know where to look for drugs. When I didn’t find him at the bar, I drove around, and just sort of found myself here.”

Charlie flicks on the dome light and takes a few minutes to study my face. “What are you going to do when you find him? By the looks of you, your last conversation wasn’t very friendly.”

I glare at him. “I didn’t hit him back, so you can stop looking at me like that.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’d hope not. You look like shit. He might be eighteen years younger than you, but he’s not taken great care of himself. You’ve got a good forty pounds of muscle on him. Did you even defend yourself?”

Gingerly, I touch my busted lip. “Not really.”

“I know you’ve got a guilty conscience over your relationship with Wren, but letting him beat on you is not the way to manage it.”

I scoff, splitting my lip open again. “You think that’s why I feel guilty?”

He nods. “Why else?”

My chest constricts, and for a second a sense of impending doom comes over me. “Do you think that’s what Wren thinks too?”

Charlie gives me a pitying look. “How could she not?”

“Fuck,” I shout and punch the dashboard.

“That was stupid, but at least I know you can still hit,” Charlie quips.

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