"You need to go hop in the shower, son. Then get to bed. We're all going to the high school in the morning to enroll Jess in the classes she needs, and then I'll take you over to the junior high and enroll you." He picked up the folded blanket and threw it on the couch, along with his pillow.
"I'm not going." Travis continued to stare at the television.
"You have no choice."
"I'll drop out."
"You're too young. You can't do that until you're sixteen. That gives me two years and a few months to talk you out of doing a stupid stunt like dropping out of school." He sat down beside Travis and slapped his son's thigh. "I need you in school while I work."
"I can stay here by myself."
"You will, after school."
"This sucks." Travis jumped up from the couch. "You suck. Mom let me stay home from school all the time."
His son stormed out of the room. Wyatt let his head fall back on the couch. His son's habits would change. He'd make sure his son stayed in school, even if he needed to go with him and sit his ass in class and force him to learn.
His shoulders ached from the changes coming at him faster than he could process. Ever since he received the phone call two nights ago that the mother of his children had driven off the road and crashed her car into the Clark Fork River, he'd been doing whatever he had to do to get through the changes for all of them.
Travis slammed the bedroom door. Wyatt rubbed his hands over his face. His head throbbed, and he'd like nothing more than to crack open a whiskey and try to find the answers to his immediate problems at the bottom of a bottle.
He couldn't leave and hit the bar, not with the kids with him, needing him. Grabbing his pack of cigarettes off the coffee table, he stepped outside the apartment and lit a smoke.
If he hadn't seen Claudia's car pulled out of the river and her body in the coffin, he would've put money down that it was one of her stunts she'd enjoyed pulling. Her lies and fondness for drugs were the reason their relationship never worked. She'd married soon after he'd left her and continued her antics, even disappearing for a few days at a time, where nobody could get ahold of her or knew where she'd gone.
For whatever reason, Dean Miller, Claudia's husband, never put a stop to her using drugs. It was the number one reason why he'd fought to get custody of his kids. The only ones who suffered were Jess and Travis.
He exhaled harshly, watching a car pull into the apartment complex. Someone above him on the second-floor balcony whistled. He was used to people coming and going at all hours.
A shadow moved by Wyatt's Harley Davidson. He walked out on the small strip of grass separating the building from the parking lot, peering in the dark. The few lights on the outer edge of the asphalt barely lit up the area, he couldn't be sure what he saw.
A shape developed near the back of his motorcycle. He darted forward. The figure stood, throwing a bag over his shoulder, and turned. He lunged, catching the person by the back of the shirt.
He dragged the slight person in front of him, recognizing his son. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Let me go." Travis swung out.
His son's fist bounced off Wyatt's arm. He shook Travis, lifting him off his feet. The damn kid must've climbed out of his bedroom window.
"I want to go back." Travis struggled, trying to get away from him.
Knowing his boy hurt, he stared at his son. Travis's desire to return to the house he grew up in was the opposite of what he'd heard from his son over the years. Neither of his kids liked their stepfather. They complained about him constantly while visiting him. There was not much he could do about the man his ex-girlfriend had picked to spend her life with, and he'd tried to explain to Travis, many times, that his childhood was temporary. That soon, he'd be out on his own, and he needed to focus on getting his schooling and getting his head straight, so he could make his own decisions.
To hear that Travis wanted to go back home made no sense. His mother wasn't there.
He set Travis on his feet and cupped the back of his son's neck. "Why do you want to go there?"
Travis's face scrunched, fighting to keep from crying. Frustrated, Wyatt leaned down and put his forehead against his son's head.
"You're right. Life sucks at the moment, son. But I promise that the love you have for your mom is never going away, even though she's gone. I can't tell you how that happens or that there won't be days that it feels like the loneliness is more than you can handle, but I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He softened his hold. "Tomorrow is a new day. You need to get your butt to bed."
He let his son go, ready to go after him again if he ran. Over the years, he'd faced problems with his ex, custody battles, and had rearranged his life to be a part-time dad. All those things were expected when he'd had kids.
But telling his kids their mom had died when they weren't done growing up yet had never entered his mind as a possible job he'd need to do.
Travis slinked off toward the apartment, dragging his bag. Wyatt took out another cigarette and lit the end. He needed ten minutes to think about nothing.
He could pretend his kids were happy and well-adjusted.
His crew at Carr Construction
