CHAPTER 4: Fractured Bond

Eric spent the rest of the morning staring at the notebook he had unearthed from the box, its pages filled with ideas he and Tim had brainstormed together. Words like "safety protocols," "team accountability," and "accident prevention" stared back at him, cruel reminders of what he'd failed to uphold.

But the flicker of determination from earlier was quickly overshadowed by reality. How could he possibly face Tim's family? And David—his son hated him. Where was he supposed to begin?

The answer came quicker than expected when the doorbell rang. Eric opened it to find Helen standing there, her expression calm but distant.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

Eric stepped aside, unsure of what to say. It wasn't often that Helen visited, and when she did, it usually wasn't good news.

"I won't take up much of your time," she began, sitting down at the dining table. "I wanted to talk about David."

Eric sat across from her, his palms sweaty. "What about him?"

Helen sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. "He's not doing well, Eric. His grades are slipping, and he's angry all the time. He doesn't talk to me anymore—at least, not in a way that matters. I think... I think he's hurting more than he lets on."

Eric swallowed hard. "I know. I saw his math test."

Helen raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "He needs stability, Eric. He needs someone to show him he's not alone."

"I want to help," Eric said quickly. "I've been trying to, but he—"

"Doesn't trust you," Helen finished, her tone blunt but not cruel. "And honestly, I can't blame him. You've been absent, Eric. Even when you were here, you weren't really here."

Eric flinched at the accusation, though he knew it was true. "I want to fix things," he said quietly.

"Then start showing up," Helen said. She stood, smoothing her coat. "David's coming home late tonight. Talk to him. Really talk to him."

Eric nodded, though the idea of another confrontation with David filled him with dread.

The day passed slowly, each hour dragging as Eric replayed Helen's words in his mind. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he had worked himself into a nervous frenzy.

When David finally walked through the door, Eric was waiting for him at the dining table, the notebook and Marcia's letter tucked away nearby.

"David," Eric started, his voice steadier than he expected. "Can we talk?"

David stopped in his tracks, his expression wary. "About what?"

"About everything," Eric said. "Your grades, your mom, us."

David rolled his eyes and dropped his bag by the door. "I'm tired, Dad. Can't this wait?"

"No," Eric said firmly, surprising even himself. "It can't."

David sighed and sat down reluctantly. "Fine. Talk."

Eric hesitated, searching for the right words. "I know I've let you down. I know I've let everyone down. But I want to make things right. I need to make things right."

David crossed his arms, his gaze icy. "You think saying that changes anything? You think it fixes what you did?"

"No," Eric admitted. "I don't. But I'm not giving up on us, David. You're my son, and I love you. Even if you hate me right now, I'll keep trying."

David looked away, his jaw clenched. For a moment, Eric thought he might say something, but instead, he stood and grabbed his bag.

"I don't hate you," David said quietly, not meeting Eric's eyes. "I just don't trust you."

The words hung in the air long after David disappeared into his room.

Alone again, Eric returned to the dining table, his hands shaking as he unfolded Marcia's letter once more. Her words, paired with David's, painted a clear picture: his redemption wouldn't come easily. He needed to prove, not just to Tim's family but to his own, that he was willing to change—not with words, but with actions.

He pulled the notebook closer and began writing, his mind racing with ideas. It wasn't much, but it was a start.