“And you didn’t do the show.”
Gibson shook his head and then finished his water. “I think I’ll take a nap. Wake me in an hour and we’ll start on the porch.”
The screen door slapped shut behind him, leaving Emmett alone on the back porch wondering about the life his parents had had before he was born.
He wished he’d seen it.
They’d had him late in life. Gibson had been in his forties by the time Emmett was born. Although they’d never seemed old to him, they’d also never seemed young. They were his parents. Boring. Loving and attentive. But boring.
This peek into their life before him was odd. Made him wish he’d made more of an effort to get to know them as adults.
He pushed off the swing.
He was here now. It was too late to get to know his mom, but he still had time with Gibson. A very short window of time—and he wasn’t going to waste it.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to right things for Jaime, too.
“YOU HUNGRY?”
Emmett pulled another wide strip of wallpaper from the dining-room wall before stuffing the steamed paper into the big, barrel trash can he’d brought in from the back porch. Gibson stood in the doorway, hair wild around his face and a baseball cap on his head. Emmett couldn’t place the mascot on the brim.
“Sure.” He wiped his hands on a damp towel and then put it back on the cleaned corner of his mother’s mahogany dining table.
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