Page 66 of The Hook Up
He’d just swallowed his last bite of burger when the doorbell rang. Ty frowned, glancing at his watch.
The screen door to the house stood open, and Ellie glanced that direction, holding the last of her burger in both hands. “Are you expecting company?”
“No.” Ty swiped at his mouth with a paper towel and pushed back in his chair.“No one ever drops by unannounced. It’s probably someone selling something.”
“At dinnertime on a Sunday?”
He shrugged and stood up. “I guess it’s when they know people are home.” As he made his way across the deck, he waved at them to stay seated. “I’ll be right back,” he called. “Save some apple slices for me.”
Henry giggled and pantomimed hiding the plate full of apples. Ellie gave him a mock-stern look and pretended to swat his hand.
The casual playfulness of it all nearly took Ty’s breath away.
As the doorbell rang again, Ty hustled through the sliding door and strode through the living room to the front door. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he wondered if this was a teaching opportunity. If Ellie and Henry were watching, maybe this was Ty’s chance to show how to be polite but firm with the salesperson, letting them know that while he had the utmost appreciation for small business owners, he wasn’t in the market for vacuums or gift wrap or whatever else they were selling.
Ty grabbed the doorknob and twisted, yanking the door open to let in a gust of warm summer breeze. “Evening! Now’s actually not a good time for—oh.”
The words froze in Ty’s throat. He stood staring at the man in the rumpled clothes and grizzled gray beard. A man with worn crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a scowl Ty would know anywhere.
Doffing his dirty, black Johnny Cash cowboy hat, the man stared at him with achingly-familiar dark-brown eyes.
“Hello, son.”
CHAPTER15
Ty stared at his father on his doorstep, too stunned to form words.
“John,” he managed at last, unwilling to call the man “Dad,” or “Father,” or anything like that. “What are you doing here?”
The old man scowled and planted the cowboy hat back on his head. It was the same one Ty remembered from his youth, from those rare occasions his dad would make an appearance in his life.
“Helluva goddamn greeting for your old man,” he muttered, pushing his way through the front door before Ty could object. He wore a dirty gray trench coat so tattered it was almost a cape. “I got your address from the county assessor,” his father continued, looking around the room like a thief casing the joint.
Considering his last prison sentence was for burglary, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.
The old man swiveled his gaze back to Ty. “Free internet at the library. You wouldn’t believe the shit those county assessors put on the goddamn website. Addresses and how much people paid for their houses. It’s all online if you know where to look for it.” He cackled and tapped his forehead with one dirty fingernail. “You got your big brain from someplace, you know.”
Ty said nothing. He was focused on figuring out how to get his father out of his home and out of his life before Ellie or Henry came in from the back porch.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?” Ty asked.
“Early parole.” His father gave a smug nod. “Happens a lot for non-violent crimes.”
“So I recall,” Ty said, folding his arms over his chest as a sharp shard of rage lodged itself between his ribs. “Not that all those early releases seemed to free up your time to visit your children or get a job or send child support to?—”
“Oh, come on!” The old man waved one gnarled hand like that was water under the bridge. Like years of neglect could be erased by a simple hand gesture. “You’re not still sore about that, are you?”
Ty stared at his father. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve turned over a new leaf.” The old man adjusted his hat. “And when I saw Anna’s engagement in the paper, I thought maybe I’d get in touch. You know, make amends, meet her new man, maybe walk her down the aisle.”
Fresh fury washed through Ty’s body. His hands curled into fists, lodged against his crossed arms. “Stay away from Anna,” he growled.
The old man snorted. “I can’t even find her. Wily little bitc—little bit of a thing.” He cleared his throat. “I been looking, though. Was hoping you’d help me get in touch.”
Ty took a few deep breaths, struggling to gain his composure. To formulate a response that contained the least amount of profanity possible.
He was still thinking about it when he heard a voice behind him.
