Page 82 of Afterglow
“Dad?” I repeat.
He responds without moving. “Hmm?”
“It’s Fletcher.”
Both eyes open and widen, revealing a jaundiced hue instead of white around his honey-brown irises. My stomachlurches. The years of drinking caught up to him. He’s almost unrecognizable and more unwell than Miller described.
“Hey, kid.” Dad weakly lifts his hand, and I cover it with mine, keeping it against the mattress. “You taking care of yourself?”
Bea tries to let go of me, but I don’t allow it. I need her.
“Yeah.” A long breath exits from my nose as I join him on the bed, half-sitting at the edge. “How about you?”
A sarcastic chuckle sounds from his throat. “Never been good at taking care of anyone, not even myself.” Regret clouds his expression. “Wish I woulda learned how to earlier. Then I wouldn’t feel like such a useless piece of shit for having to depend on everyone else now.”
His rue reflects in mine. “You…took care of us. You worked?—”
“No need to lie for my sake,” he interrupts himself to cough a few times into his elbow. “I was barely around. Your mom,” he coughs once more, “She did the heavy lifting with you kids. Piper and Park, too.”
“It was enough.”
“At the time,” he sighs, “it felt like it was, but looking back…” Dad frowns, shaking his head in disagreement. His gaze drags to Bea at a snail’s pace. “Is there someone with you, or am I seeing things?”
I push out a short laugh and look to her, who half-smiles at the floor. “Yeah, there is.”
“Hiya.” He waves a flaccid hand over his torso. “Sorry about meeting you in this state.”
“Hi,” she replies. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Fletch?” He beckons me closer with his hand. “You gonna tell me your girlfriend’s name, or what?”
“Oh.” I cringe at myself. “It’s Behraz.”
“Behraz? Pretty name.”
“Thank you.” Bea accepts the compliment, the apples of her cheeks turning pink.
“Come home more often, Fletcher.” Dad turns his hand underneath mine, leaving it with a tight squeeze. “I’ll be here all the time now.”
“I will.” It’s a promise I don’t know I can keep, but it’s worth making to see his face brighten for a moment. Sudden clamor from downstairs has my father rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take it easy. We’ll come check on you in a bit.”
He nods and covers his eyes with the same hand. We tiptoe out, closing the door as quietly as possible.
Bea huffs air out through puffed cheeks, then curls an arm around my waist. “You okay, Fletcher?”
My arm wraps around her, too, needing her close. “I’m always okay when you’re around. You make everything better.”
That sweet beauty spot on her cheek dances when she smiles, and I peck her forehead.
She tips her head back to look at me, tempting me into another kiss. I give it to her, relishing the privacy, the warmth of her chest pressed into mine, our joined lips.
“Ewwww, Uncle Fletcher!”
I pull my lips into my mouth, face heating up with embarrassment. The oldest of my nephews stands akimbo on the top stair, sticking his tongue out. Typical eight-year-old shit. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Not you, too! Mom and Dad are gross enough.”
Bea hides her face in my chest. My heart skips, excited by her proximity. I’m tempted to tell him we’re grown-ups and she’s my girlfriend, so we’ll do whatever the hell we want, but I decide to be the adult. “Is there something you need, bud?”
