Page 19 of Hollow Heart

Duncan

“You’re going to do great,”Bobby says as he caps his travel mug.

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when did you get to be so wise, Yoda?”

My son has the audacity to roll his eyes at me likeI’mthe child.

“Please. I was born wise. It’s a product of being gifted.”

I smile, shaking my head. “And modest, too.”

I don’t miss how he avoids my compliment. As smart as he is, he’s the worst when it comes to acknowledging his own strengths.

But that doesn’t mean I stop trying to get him to see he really is an amazing person, and that’s not just me saying that because he’s my flesh and blood.

“Whatever,” he says as he heads for the door.

“If I’m not home in time for dinner, grab some Door Dash or something, all right?”

Bobby looks at me with an annoyed glare.

“I can cook, you know. I don’t need to live off of pizza and Chinese food like you.”

I scoff at his words. I don’t just live off of pizza and Chinese. I eat tacos, too.

Hmph!

“Okay, well, if you decide to go all Gordon Ramsey, at least remember to make your old man a plate, okay?”

Bobby sighs in exasperation. “Okay, okay. I have to go or I’m going to be late for homeroom, Dad.”

I shoot him a soft smile as I nod, watching him anxiously tap his foot like Sonic the Hedgehog or something.

I swear kids these days are always in a fucking rush for everything.

I would’ve purposefully avoided homeroom, but Bobby hates to be late.

I guess he gets that from his mother; though, she was always, as she said,fashionably earlyand everyone else was late.

I wave off to him as he heads out the door, telling him I love him and he doesn’t bother to say it back.

It shouldn’t hurt, because I know he does, I am his father, after all. But I miss the days where he would laugh and say it back, like we actually were pals and not roommates, which is what it feels like now.

God, when we had him, I had no clue it was going to be this hard. Especially without Marci.

I know one day he really won’t need me anymore. He’ll go off to college and get an apartment, and I’ll be lucky if I see him at Christmas. Then, he’ll meet a nice girl and spend all his time with her, and then...

I wipe my hand over my face, feeling the beginning of tears prickling the edge of my eyes.

“Get it together, Duncan,” I chastise myself, shrugging off the emotional turmoil. I’m sure I’m getting ahead of myself.

He’s sixteen, after all, not twenty-one.

I glance at the clock, noting I have about ten minutes to leave if I don’t want to get stuck in Los Angeles traffic.

Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about rehearsal today.

It’s been a couple days since Lou offered me the gig officially, and while I’ve been following Felix Hart everywhere, getting familiar with his discography, there’s a part of me that worries with his volatile attitude that he’ll find some reason to sack me.

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