Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(84)

Aunt Ruthie told me more than once that I’m just as much my father’s daughter as I am my mother’s. That I’m as much like him as I am like her. I didn’t believe her until now. The secrets. The lies. The hiding. The running. All a latent legacy from my father that, under pressure, has sprung to life.

Hypocrisy scents the air and turns my stomach. I’ve asked so many things of Rhyson that I haven’t been willing to do myself. I let my own fear and insecurity ruin our trust. The foundation he thought we were rebuilding, I’ve cracked with my lies and secrets. San tried to tell me. Rhyson learned from his mistakes and has done everything to show me, but it was coming face to face with my father that held the mirror up to me. My life for the last few months has been one huge blind spot with me overlooking all the ways I’ve done to Rhyson exactly what he did to me. I was blind to it, but now . . . well, now I see.





I MISSED A CALL FROM MY father.

I’m leaving the studio, debating whether to return or ignore the call. The missed call alert on my phone mocks me, daring me to respond. We’ve had a few more counseling sessions since that initial one, and things have thawed some between my father and me. My mother . . . still frozen.

I may never be able to say the word “frozen” again without laughing. I was only half-joking when I suggested animation for Kai’s acting career. Yet another bridge we’ll have to cross when we come to it. That one—nudity, sex scenes, all that shit with some other guy, even if it is acting—that bridge I’ll burn. Got the match right here.

I don’t even register that I’ve dialed his number until it’s ringing. Only then do I realize it’s almost midnight. I’m about to hang up when he answers.

“Rhyson, hey.”

He sounds surprisingly alert and as strong as ever, even though I’m always shocked that he looks frailer than the man I grew up with. He and Grady are identical twins, but now he looks like Grady’s older brother. Em’s keeping Grady young, and my mother’s got to be aging my father. I feel weary after every session, and she and I barely look at each other in those.

“Dad, hey. Sorry to call so late. I didn’t realize it was . . . well, I’m just leaving the studio.” I barrel ahead with an apology before he asks for an explanation. “Sorry I missed yesterday’s session with Dr. Ramirez. I didn’t mean to blow it off.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “But I wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”

I hesitate, weighing how much deeper I want to allow him into my life. Kai’s about as deep as you can get with me, so sharing anything about her would crack open that door between my father and me just that much more.

“My girlfriend, Kai, collapsed during one of her concerts. Not sure if you heard. It was on the news a lot last week. She was in the hospital.”

“I did hear. I actually left you a voicemail checking to see if she was okay.”

His concern startles me. I can’t imagine him doing something like that years ago.

“Sorry. I didn’t check all my voicemails,” I say. “I kind of forgot about everything else. I went home with her to recuperate. I should be able to make next week’s session. We’ll have to see how she’s doing.”

“Maybe we could . . .” My father’s voice goes somewhere I’ve rarely heard it go. To uncertainty. “Maybe we could have coffee or something when you get back. You know, meet outside the session.”

Holy shit.

“Uh, we could do that.” I tap the steering wheel. “Coffee’s kind of public for me, though. Maybe you could . . . come to the house for dinner or something.”

Thank God it’s almost midnight, and there’s hardly any traffic because this conversation requires my complete focus.

“Dinner?” Surprise tinges his voice. “Sure. I’d . . . well, I’d like that.”

“Kai’s a great cook,” I continue before I think better of it. “Did I mention she’s from Georgia? Can you believe I ended up with a girl from Georgia?”

“A Southerner, huh?” His laugh makes him sound freer than I’ve heard in a long time. Maybe ever. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“And to top it off, she’s a Baptist. As in church. Crazy, right? Anyway, they fry chicken in this big black pot, in like a foot of grease. It’s the best thing you’ll ever taste. I think I’m getting her a pot for our back yard.”

“That sounds nice,” he says, that smile still in his voice. “I’d love to come.”

It’s unspoken between us, but we both know I’m extending the invitation only to him. My mother . . . that’s still another issue entirely.

“How about I call you when I get back from taking care of her? Or . . . I guess you could call. Or whatever.”

“That’d be great.” He pauses. “Thanks for calling me back, Rhyson.”

“Sure. I mean, of course.” I roll my eyes at myself. “Yeah.”

Smooth. Real smooth. You’re such a baller, Gray.

“Talk to you later, son.”

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t flinch when he called me that. The fact that I don’t gives me hope I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.

I’m still processing our conversation when I walk into the house. It’s completely quiet. I’m replaying every word I said to my dad, wondering if I should have said more, less.