I accidentally skipped dinner last night and breakfast this morning, so when the horn of the food truck sounds, I immediately drop my tools, make my way over to it. Dad’s the first one there. I’m right behind him. After ordering his standard turkey sub, he says, eying me over his shoulder, “You didn’t come home last night.”

“I accidentally fell asleep at a friend’s house.” The lie comes effortlessly. “Sorry.”

Dad nods, turns his entire body toward me. “Come see me after lunch, okay?”

* * *

Unless it’s work related, Dad’s lectures are few and far between, so I’m not really looking forward to whatever it is he has to say. I knock on the door of his portable office and wait, hands in my pockets. He doesn’t respond verbally, just opens the door, motions for me to come in and take a seat.

Jesus. This is going to be a long one.

It’s not that he cares what we do, especially once we’re grown-ass men, but he doesn’t like to worry, and going by the look on his face, the darkness around his eyes, he’s probably spent half the night worrying.

“Sorry,” I say again, because I truly am. The man has seven kids to take care of; the last thing he needs to worry about is my not coming home because I was stoned off my fucking face.

“For what?” he asks.

“For last night, not coming home. For not calling.”

He waves it off as he takes his seat on the other side of his desk, the cheap plastic of the chair bending beneath his giant frame. “That’s not why I asked you in here.”

“It’s not?”

Dad shakes his head, leans forward on his elbows. “You’ve been doing great on the job, Logan. And I mean it when I say I’m proud of you.”

“But…?” There’s always a “but” when it comes to me.

“But we had a deal.”

I sigh, pick at my work pants. “I know.”

“The deal was, you leave high school, you work for me, and you get your GED. It’s been three years, and I haven’t seen you—”

“I know. I’ll do it, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

I’m a dumbass, I want to say. Instead, I tell him, “I don’t know.”

He sits taller. “You have until the end of next year.”

“School year?”

“Calendar.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He starts messing with some paperwork on his desk.

I don’t make a move to leave.

He lifts his gaze. “Anything else?”

“No lecture?”

“Don’t do it again?” It comes out as a question, as if he doesn’t know if it’s the correct thing to say. He does that a lot in these moments. Like, he questions his own parenting without my mom around. Like he hopes he’s doing right by us.

He is.

“I was thinking…” I start.

Dad drops the papers, gives me his full attention. “Yeah…?”

“I was thinking of going to trade school.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Instead of getting your GED?”

I shrug. “I was thinking I could do both.” What the hell else am I going to do with my life?

“What trade?” he asks. “You know everything there is to know about construction.”

“Electrical.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it can’t hurt to know that stuff as well. And I enjoy it so…”

“Taking things apart and putting them back together… You’ve always been good with that stuff.” He’s smiling. “I’ll cover the costs on one condition.”

“I can cover the costs.” Seriously, I can. He pays me more than any other guy my age, and everything I use, everything I own is covered by the company. Truck, gas, phone. I literally have zero expenses.

“One condition,” he repeats, and I sigh. “You do it during the day as part of your work hours. No night school. You need to be a nineteen-year-old boy, Logan. This job—it can’t be your life like it was mine.”

“But look where it got you.”

“Yeah. But look at all the time I missed out on,” he says, and I know he means time with my mother. Time with us. His throat bobs with his swallow as his gaze drops. “Just trust me on that, okay?”

I nod.

He motions to the door. “Get back to it.”

I get up, start to leave, but pause with my hand on the doorknob. “Dad?” I say, turning to him. When he looks up, his eyes on mine, I tell him, “You’re doing just fine. With us kids, I mean. Mom—she’d be proud of you, like you are of me.”

* * *

I don’t realize the work day’s over until Lucas slaps my back, tells me it’s time to leave. Everyone else is already packing up their tools. “I think um… I think I’m just going to hang back, finish up on a few things.”

He taps his pockets, probably searching for his phone. He thinks I’m planning another Mayhem. I’m not. Truth is, if I don’t keep my mind busy with something, anything, I’ll only think about Aubrey. And then I’ll end up back at the shack, letting Mary have her way with me.

I can’t do that shit again.

“You sure? We’re on schedule.”

“Yeah, man.”

“All right, you got the keys to lock up?”

I’m here every morning before he is to set up for the day. Of course, I have the keys. I give him a look that tells him exactly that.

“Of course, you do. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep me on a leash, Luke,” I sigh out. “I’m not fifteen anymore.”

He nods, responds with a look of his own—one I can’t figure out. “I’ll see you later, then.”