Page 42 of Clean Sweep
Tanner had never mentioned if he’d been able to call. I’d asked a week ago, but didn’t want to follow up on it myself.
Maybe asking Tanner for help had been a step too far. It felt a little too desperate.
Either way, I still had no idea what else to do, or who to turn to. Parenting had always been a comedy of errors. While everyone had sympathetically tut-tutted over my position or laughed over what my kids said, I just wanted someone tohelp.
Ethan had been a little too focused on work for that.
“Hey, Blake,” I called over the sound of violent shooting and shouts of pain from his console. “Have you talked to Landon lately?”
“No,” he called.
“What about Nicholas?”
“Nope.”
“Max?”
“Yeah. Had a practice and called me on his way there. Said it went well and things are looking up. Might be some scouts for him.”
I frowned. Of course, I had to get the most pertinent updates through my youngest son. Max was going to suffer for not mentioning that the last time we spoke.
“Said he’d tell you about it on Sunday,” Blake quickly added. “He only had a minute and I had a question about something on my video game that Missy couldn’t answer.”
Reality didn’t soften the blow much. It felt like my relationship with all my boys slid down a wet slope. Then again, all of them still grappled with undeveloped brains, so what did I know?
Just as I’d resolved to keep showing up and let them know I cared, my phone rang. I glanced down, then muttered a swear word. Tanner’s name appeared on the screen. A simple call from him created a storm of butterflies in my gut.
What would a date do?
I banished the thought. Didn’t matter because it wouldn’t happen. With a deep, slow inhale through my nose, I forced myself to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Tanner said easily, as if we talked every day so casually, “just wanted to let you know that I got a hold of Landon. A couple of days ago, actually, but I . . . I got wrapped up in stuff. I also thought about calling him again but haven’t done it yet.”
I slipped out the back door and closed the door behind me. The shock of cold air woke me out of my thoughts.
“Awesome, thank you for reaching out to him. I don’t expect you to recount everything, or whatever. I just wanted to know . . . did he mention anything I should be worried about?”
“Nothing noteworthy.”
A boring explanation of their conversation followed, which gave me some relief. No massive gaps in Landon’s life that he sought to hide from me, at least. Perhaps that was one of my biggest fears as a parent—that my kids would struggle but not come to me for help.
“Well, that’s something,” I said. “I just got a few text messages from him. He promised me we’d talk this weekend.”
“Good.”
Tanner’s confident tone helped all the ruffled edges in my body smooth back out. Instead of feeling prickly and rankled, I had a moment to breathe.
“How are you?” Tanner asked. Thankfully, his tone hadn’t grown stilted. The phone had always been forgiving that way. You couldn’t read body language, even if you could read the tone.
“Stressed,” I admitted.
“Oh? About what?”
“Landon, mostly. My boys, always. Maverick’s family reunion a little, but that’s coming together well.”
“Tell me about the reunion. Sounds intense.”
