Chapter 133

That color is back, twin spots like a fever burning just below the outer corners of his eyes, and he turns away so I won’t see it. He straightens the power tools on the bench just to busy himself, and I fight the urge to ask again. I wait. I have all day, if need be—I want to hear his answer.

But when he starts to pick through the shelving brackets, it becomes obvious that he’s avoiding me. “Dad—”

“I’m not saying I condone it,” he scowls, like I’ve come here to ask for money and he wants to make me work for anything I get. “I’m not saying you have my blessing, Mike, if that’s what you’re asking.” To punctuate this, he presses the trigger on his drill, and an electric buzz fills the shed.