“No, it isn’t that. At least not only that.”
“Is your head bothering you?” Laurie didn’t have much he could do for Wheat other than give him more ibuprofen, but how much was too much? It could be dangerous, and he didn’t want to chance it.
“No…You’re going to hate me.”
“I don’t think that’s likely, but tell me why you think so.”
“My father has—had—friends in the government. They’d told him what was going on, but never to this extent.”
Laurie reached out his other hand to rest on Wheat’s shoulder, and Wheat shied away. It was easy to see he really expected Laurie to haul off and slug him.
“I didn’t know, Laurie. Father swore to me…He sworeto me that they hadn’t let him know how serious this was. He’s my father. I believed him.”
Laurie could see how upset he was. He rose, walked around the table, and slid onto Wheat’s lap. “This isn’t your fault.”
“But—”