Distraction (Club Destiny #8)(30)
“I happen to think it looks awesome,” a gravelly voice countered, pulling Dylan’s attention away from his daughter.
Pops came ambling into the kitchen, a little slower these days, a smile on his aged face as he leveled his golden-brown eyes at Stacey. Dylan rolled his eyes. Xavier Thomas was in his eighties. What did he know about fashion statements of college kids?
“Of course you would,” Dylan said slyly, forcing a smile as he continued to stare at his daughter’s outrageous hairdo before turning his attention to his grandfather.
Pops shot him a glare—his way of intimidating Dylan into keeping his mouth shut. Generally, that look didn’t work, because Dylan had spent most of his life rebelling against his grandfather, but today, he managed to keep his comments to himself.
“Thanks, Pops,” Stacey crooned before stealing an apple from the counter and disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared.
“That girl,” Dylan mused. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her. Next thing you know, she’ll have her face pierced.”
“She’s twenty-three. What do you expect?” Pops teased.
Before his grandfather could say anything more, in walked Dylan’s son, Nate, who, unlike Dylan’s daughter, wasn’t smiling. Thankfully, Nate’s hair was normal, though. Dylan wasn’t sure what he’d do if both of his kids went wild. As it was, he was still having a hard time getting used to the fact that Nate was twenty-one years old and more than a couple of inches taller than Dylan was. The kid he’d known had grown into a fine young man.
“Hey, Dad. Pops,” Nate greeted coolly. “Have either of you talked to Alex?”
“I stopped by his house earlier. Why?” Dylan questioned.
Dylan watched Nate closely, noticing the way his son didn’t maintain eye contact for long. It wasn’t a secret that Nate had gone to Alex about making his job at CISS full time and permanent despite Dylan’s insistence that Nate further his academics before stepping into that sort of role. But after a rather heated conversation with Alex at the time, Dylan had relented to Alex’s request to hire the boy on before the merger so that Nate would have an official position with Sniper 1 Security. Perhaps Nate still wasn’t happy with Dylan about his reaction to the situation.
Nate had been working for CISS since he graduated from high school three years earlier. Although he’d only been pitching in part time, it looked as though Nate was definitely interested in pursuing a long-time career in the security business. However, whenever Dylan had attempted to discuss it with Nate, aside from a few brusque responses to Dylan’s questions, Nate hadn’t talked much.
Seemed Nate was happy with the job, though. Or so Alex had told him.
That didn’t mean Dylan liked the idea of his son working for CISS, especially with things the way they were. As far as Dylan was concerned, school was the most important thing for his children, and if Nate expected to make a career in the security industry, Dylan wanted him to graduate from college with a degree that was worthwhile. Seemed that Nate and Alex were content with the two-year degree he’d already accomplished, and they’d brushed Dylan’s concerns off.
And yes, Dylan had been called a meddling father on more than one occasion, but he was a firm believer that that was what fathers were supposed to do. Even if their kids were grown and no longer wanted their father interfering in their business.
“Why’re you lookin’ for Alex?” Dylan asked his son.
“No reason,” Nate said curtly before turning and abruptly leaving the room.
Well, hell.
What was it with his kids and their hasty disappearing acts? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought they were keeping their distance for a reason. Granted, Dylan knew he had to accept some responsibility since he hadn’t been the greatest father in the world—not since Meghan died anyway.
“Wow, Dad,” Pops teased. “Way to run off the kids.”
“It’s a skill I’ve acquired,” he told his grandfather.
“I can see that.” Pops went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea, then retrieved two glasses from the cabinet. “Goin’ somewhere tonight?”
“I was thinkin’ about it,” he admitted. After leaving Ashleigh and Alex’s, Dylan made a quick stop, then he’d gone back to his house—the three-bedroom guest house at the back of his grandfather’s vast estate, where he’d been living for the past four years—and showered, shaved, and dressed in record time. Now, as he sat at his grandfather’s kitchen table, he was beginning to rethink his decision to go to Devotion.
“You look good, kid,” Xavier said. “Whatever you do, don’t change your plans. You need to get outta the house.”
“You don’t even know where I’m goin’,” Dylan countered, wondering, not for the first time, if his grandfather could read his mind.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to do something.”
Dylan nodded, then looked away from Pops.
“Did you…?” Pops’ gaze drifted to the door, then slowly back to him. “Did you visit Meghan’s grave yesterday?”
Swallowing hard, Dylan nodded. Another trip behind him on a day he dreaded because the memories still brought him to his knees.
Eleven long years of nursing a shattered, brittle heart after the death of his wife—his best friend in the world—had left Dylan feeling like a body without a soul. He had watched Meghan suffer, withering away, her fragile body succumbing to the cancer that riddled it while fighting the chemo the doctors had warned them wasn’t a sure thing. Up until her very last breath, Dylan had hung on, praying that God would not take her from him, but in the end, she had died. Right there in his arms, while he was unable to contain the tears as the love of his life was taken from him.