Page 12 of Chasing Infinity

He’s still the same old Declan McCoy. His dark demeanor hasn’t changed much other than the specks of white now peppering his hair and beard. I can see crinkles around his eyes as he watches me with a narrowed stare. His stern gaze rakes over me, much like I appraise him, and I’m aware he’s sizing me up.

As little as he’s changed, I’ve changed a lot. I’m no longer his lanky teenage son who didn’t have the ballsorthe wherewithal to stand up with him. My father has always been the built type—as a young kid, I used to think he was invincible—but now I rival him in stature and stance, and I know for afactthat he isn’t invincible. My shoulders are broad, just like his now, and I stand a little taller than him.

He stares at me with his deep dark eyes, taking me in. His gaze pauses on my face looking straight into my eyes, and I know he’s seeing my mother’s striking blues reflecting back at him. I hold my expression firm, not giving away the slight nervousness I have at being face-to-face with him for the first time in nearly a decade.

“Noah.”

“Declan,” I say back.

He pushes away from his desk and strides around the edge. My body involuntarily tenses up as he comes closer to me. Still, I let myself relax a little when he extends a hand for me to shake rather than the uncomfortable hug I was anticipating. I take the offering, gripping his hand tight enough to convey that I won’t be intimidated by him.

“Sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances,” my father says to me as he drops my hand and watches me closely. “I was wondering if you’d show up.”

“For my mother’s funeral?” I ask him incredulously. “Of course, I’d be here.”

He turns away from me. “How was I supposed to know that? I haven’t heard from you in years. No form of communication, not even a peep.”

“And you’re blaming that onme?”

He looks at me over his shoulder and laughs snidely under his breath. “Glad to see you’re still living your martyr fantasy. You’re not blameless in everything, Son. I thought you’d be mature enough now to take responsibility for your actions.”

“My actions?” I ask him, raising my voice slightly. “You’re really gonna sit there and—” I catch myself before I lose control of this conversation. I close my eyes and breathe heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’ve been here barely two minutes, and I’m already allowing him to get under my skin. I need to get a grip.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” I tell him after I have a handle on my irritation.

“Likewise,” Declan responds. He’s watching me curiously from behind his desk again, as if he’s updating his inner file on me, gauging my weaknesses or how he can rile me up. My father is a seasoned predator, always observing his prey for the slightest chink in their armor in an attempt to take them down with the least amount of effort. “So, what can I do for you today, Noah?”

“I’m stopping by out of courtesy,” I explain. “I don’t want anything from you other than the details for Mom.”

“I see. Well, please, sit down, and we can chat. Can I get you anything to drink?” He motions over to a mini cart that houses a bottle or two of what looks like expensive bourbon. I hesitate, rapidly weighing the pros and cons of having a drink with my father.

“I’ll take what you’re having.”

My father gives me a brisk nod and sets to work, pouring two glasses with a finger of amber liquid. I seat myself in one of the sumptuous leather chairs he has positioned in front of his desk. I watch him, crossing one of my ankles over my knee as I wait. When he’s finished pouring, he hands me a glass and sits in the chair across from mine.

“It was somewhat of a shock to find her,” he says, settling into his seat. “I didn’t know she had been dealing with such demons.”

“Maybe if you would have paid her one ounce of attention, you would have known,” I glower down at my drink.

My father barks out a laugh, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking up. “You’ve always been so quick to judge me, Noah. Maybe you should look in the mirror before you start placing all of the blame on me.”

I give him a grunt as a response, not taking the bait, and continue to examine my glass. I still haven’t taken a sip.

“It’s not poisoned, you know,” my father says when he catches me swirling the tumbler and observing the top layer of the brandy. He chuckles when I don’t deign to look up at him. “Trust me, if I were planning to off you, I’d pick a more…effective measure. A fire, perhaps. Arson seems to always do the trick.”

I finally snap my eyes up to him and give him a sharp glare. I know he’s taunting me, trying to get my attention, and I hate that it managed to work. He laughs again at my expression and takes a sip of his brandy, showing me it’s safe to drink. “Relax, Son, I’m only teasing.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s not funny.”

“Honestly, though, maybe it was for the better. Your girl has proven to be much more successful in that storefront than her parents’ silly little café ever was. That diner has been raking in revenue ever since it opened. She should be happy the place was burned down. Sure was a shame but it allowed her to be a successful business owner. Gave her the chance to make her place in our little town.”

“Addison lost everything in that fire. It’s an insult to pretend otherwise. And she’s not my girl.”

My father laughs again and takes another sip. “Sure.”

I clench my teeth and finally take a sip, letting the brandy burn down my throat. “Can we please discuss what I came here for?”

“By all means. There will be a visitation for your mother on Sunday at one after church services are finished, with the funeral on Monday at eleven. There should be an online obituary somewhere.”

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