Colton’s dad, who resembled Colton with his brown eyes and thick hair, jumped out of his chair so quickly that I couldn’t track him. The next thing I knew, the elder Caldwell had his hand around his son’s neck, almost bending Colton’s back over the railing. “Respect your elders, son. And let’s not forget: my house, my rules.”
Mrs. Caldwell ran out, trying hard to wedge her petite frame in-between father and son, but she failed. “Mike, what are you doing?”
Colton shoved his dad, baring his teeth. “Touch me again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
Mr. Caldwell slammed his beer bottle on the deck and closed his hands into fists. “You’re threatening me?”
My pulse became unsteady as I watched father and son practically tear each other apart.
I couldn’t quite see Mr. Caldwell’s face, but I didn’t have to, given the rage dripping in his tone.
Mrs. Caldwell swept her hand up the back of her brown bun. “Mike, stop this right now.”
Her husband wasn’t listening. Colton stood tall, his features pinched hard.
I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping or watching, but I couldn’t look away. Our neighbors were privy to Mr. Caldwell’s drunken outbursts even when Colton wasn’t home. At times, the whole neighborhood could hear him yelling at his wife.
“Son,” Mrs. Caldwell said to Colton. “Please.”
Colton regarded his mom, his eyes softening. “No. I didn’t come home to be attacked by my father or to put up with his shit.”
Mr. Caldwell raised his fist.
“Go ahead, old man. You won’t win this round.”
Mr. Caldwell retreated a few steps.
“If you weren’t drinking, you still might have a job, and I would be at the academy instead of in this dump of a town.”
In a mere second, Mr. Caldwell was throwing a punch at Colton.
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth, hoping they didn’t hear me.
Mrs. Caldwell cried, “Mike, stop right now! The neighbors are probably watching.”
I didn’t know if she’d seen me, but she knew we could see her deck from our kitchen.
Colton touched his bleeding lip. “I’m out of here.”
“Colton,” Mrs. Caldwell pleaded. “Please.”
Her plea fell on deaf ears as Colton stormed into the house. In a matter of seconds, I heard his truck fire to life. Tires screeched before the sound of the engine faded.
Nan came in. “Are you listening to the commotion?” She pointed to the window.
“I now know why Colton is finishing his senior year at Blue Oaks. His dad lost his job.”
“It’s none of our business,” she said. “And your dad is asking for you.”
I understood that I shouldn’t get involved, and I wouldn’t. But it was difficult when neighbors aired their dirty laundry outdoors.
After wiping my hands, I waltzed into Dad’s bedroom, complete with a hospital bed, lift system, two rolling carts filled with medical supplies, a stand with his eye-gaze computer, and a big-screen TV on wheels situated at the foot of his bed.
Dad’s smile brightened my day. “There you are! How was school?” the robotic male voice from the computer asked.
I bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “Fine. Teachers explaining the upcoming year mostly.”
He typed again.
As I waited, I glanced at one of many framed pictures of Mom and me that Dad had on the walls. The images were his way of feeling like he had us at his side.
“Did you see Colton today? He came by this morning. Maybe you can ask him to help you change the oil in the Toyota. Bonnie says Colton has been tinkering with cars up at the academy.”
I’d heard him, but I read the words on the screen anyway, more to collect my thoughts than anything else. I felt as though I’d been sideswiped by an oncoming car. I mean, Colton had been on my mind since he’d hit me that morning, but I wasn’t prepared to hear Dad bring him up. “I’m sure I can take the car to one of those oil places or change it myself. You did teach me how.” I hadn’t done it yet, but I was sure I could.
After Dad was diagnosed with ALS, he’d begun a list of things to teach me, such as car maintenance, how to use the collection of tools he had, and other things that didn’t seem important. He’d been preparing me for when he wasn’t here anymore.
“Do you remember how?” Dad asked.
“I have my notes.”
“Let Colton help you. At least this one time.”
I gave him a thumbs-up. If Dad wanted me to solicit Colton’s help, then I would. I couldn’t or wouldn’t disappoint my dad. Besides, maybe it was a way to break the ice between Colton and me. “I’ll ask him.”
Hell, him ramming his truck into you broke the ice.
Dad’s blue eyes brightened before he returned to typing. “Skye, Aunt Clara will be flying out to get reacquainted with you. I think it’s important to discuss some of the details of guardianship before it’s too late.”
My stomach hollowed. “I want to live with Nan.” The words rushed out like a fast-moving current after a hard rain.
His eyes filled with tears.
Way to go, Skyler. Hurt your dad’s feelings. I leaned in so my head touched his. “I’m sorry.” I shuddered. “Aunt Clara is nice.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I didn’t like her. Or maybe it was more the idea of moving over three thousand miles away. “I don’t want to leave my friends. And you’re not dying anytime soon.” I had to believe that.
“We need to be prepared, and my sister is family,” the computer voice said.
Nan was more family than my aunt. But with his emotions all over the place, I debated whether to continue to push the subject.
He typed, “I know Aunt Clara and I have been at odds, but since she found out I had ALS, we’re building back the relationship we once had. We’re putting our past behind us.”
In my opinion, it was a little too late. “Dad, I want to graduate
