Page 67 of Unlocked Dive
My dick?
I decide not to be offended.
“He deserves this. He’s worked hard for it.”
Wash looks away, and I take in the tight line of his mouth and the too-casual set of his shoulders. Maybe he’s not as nonchalant as he’s trying to look.
“He’s not going to disappoint you,” I say. His eyes flit to mine.
“He never has.”
There’s something dismissive in his tone, an edge of condescension that has me sitting up straighter, hackles prickling.And here I was almost starting to like him.
“If that was true, I’d think you’d trust him by now,” I challenge, and I don’t back down from his appraising look.
“Are we still talking about his career?”
“We’re talking about Echo.”
He studies me for a moment.
“Do you have any children, Mr. Baardwijk?”
So much for first names.
“You know I don’t.” Reggie told me when I took the job there’d be a “basic background check,” and this guy isn’t the type to slack on his homework.
“Mmm.” He tilts his head against the wall, closing his eyes. “When they’re little, they’re always begging for your attention.Daddy, watch this. Daddy, look at me. Daddy, can I show you something?And you watch, because you’re terrified that if you look away, you’ll miss something. Or worse, that they’ll be taken from you. That all that fearless fragility will shatter against the cruel edges of the unfeeling world.” The words are polished, but they carry genuine nostalgia. An image of Echo, bright with childish innocence and insistent joy, sparks behind my eyes.
I wonder if I was ever like that, before Elke. Before “Take care of your sister, Coen” and the exhaustion of parents who never quite knew what to do with their wild daughter and their quiet, invisible son.
I don’t have to wonder if Gabriel begged for his father’s attention too.
“Then one day it changes,” Wash continues, his tone going wry. “They kick you out of their life, all ferocious independence and invincible ego, and you find a whole new set of fears. Now they’re driving, experimenting with substances, having sex.” He cuts his gaze to mine, but I don’t look away from the not-so-subtle jab. We both know I wasn’t even close to Echo’s first foray intothatdepartment.
“Now imagine raising an athlete, an aerialist. It should be even worse. Every day, risking their body in extreme ways. All their hopes pinned on an elusive future so few can achieve.
“But then imagine that child isEcho. That he’s incredible.He never falters, never disappoints you, and he’s so fearless that, over time, you also stop being afraid. All you feel is awe that something so perfect came from you.” He smiles, his pride evident, and even though I know how it feels to marvel at Echo’s magic, I almost choke on the sudden swell of anger that threatens to swamp me.
“That Echo? He ruined my fucking life.”How much blame for Echo’s collapse can be placed at the feet of this man? On the internalized expectation of perfection Echo carried onto the rope that day? Would he still have tried to prove himself flawless to Gabriel if he’d ever been allowed to be human?
“Sounds like a lot of pressure for a young man.” I can’t keep the judgment from creeping into my voice. Wash throws me a sharp look.
“He’d been training in that studio alone since he was twelve years old. I knew he wasn’t careful—what teenage boy knows the meaning of caution? But he wassmart. He never made mistakes.”
“Until he fell.”And you left him alone to rot inthat studio, with his broken wings and his fear.
“That wasn’t amistake.” He glares at me, and I suck in a startled breath at his vehemence. “That was—” He cuts himself off with an angry slash of his hand.
“An accident?”One spectacular tragedy.
“An unfortunate accident, yes.”
I barely catch the flicker of hesitation. He’s a successful lawyer. He’s not supposed to have tells. But Echo is his son, and one whose every nuance of expression I’ve been obsessing over for months.
My thoughts spiral, Echo’s voice in my memory tugging at a dreadful epiphany. “It was a big crash-style mat. Four by eight and six inches thick. My parents wouldn’t let me train at home without it. I shouldn’t have been that far off-center, even with the bad swing.”
“He wasn’t alone that day.” It’s not a question.
