Page 169 of Ruthless Court

Me: Hey.

The reply comes almost immediately.

Dad: Hey, kid.

My throat tightens.

He hasn’t called me that in months.

Dad: I’m sorry.

I sit on the edge of my bed.

Lila and Noor are at the bookstore, which means I don’t have to explain why three words have made it difficult to breathe.

Me: I’m sorry, too.

The typing bubble appears.

Stops.

Starts again.

Dad: It’s not the same here without you.

I glance at the clean desk, the old radiator, and the row of archaeology books along my shelf.

Me: I miss Mom.

I regret the answer as soon as I send it.

Too sharp.

Too honest.

Dad responds anyway.

Dad: She misses you, too.

Then:

Dad: I do.

I press my lips together.

Dad: How is school?

It is such a simple question.

He should have asked it weeks ago.

Maybe I should have given him the chance.

Me: It’s going really well. I love my classes more than I expected.

Dad: Archaeology?

Me: Yes.