#Chapter39
Now? He felt shitty. Now, he felt as though they were pointless, empty gifts.
/"Can I talk to you for a moment please, Sylvester?/"
/"Yes, Daddy./" Another demonstration of the change between them. There was no hesitancy in the boy's movements the way there once had been. No uncertainty. It was as though he had gift-wrapped his trust, topped it off with a pretty bow, and placed it into Jackson's hands. His every request was met with compliance and respect.
It had a lump forming in his throat.
Parking his ass on the Chesterfield, patting the spot next to him, Sly and Vader shuffled over until they were seated beside him.
Jackson wished he knew how the conversation would end, but he didn't. He didn't know how Sylvester would react to the predicament he would soon find himself in, and as a result, he found himself drinking in the details of his face, branding them to memory.