Maybe

by Shane Morgan

  “Sorry,” I grate out. “Can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back.”

  “What happened?” she asks, voice soft.

  I huff a short laugh. “Just found out my life’s pretty much been a lie.”

  “Parker...”

  “I’ll call you another time.”

  I end it before she can protest. I’m hurting, and I don’t want to talk. I want to hold her, but she’s so far.

  Sunlight pricks my face. I blink the sleep from my eyes and look around. People are heading to the beach. Surfers are out catching morning waves.

  My neck’s killing me from sleeping in my car, and I feel hoarse from crying.

  Everything crashes back, weighing me down. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to see my parents.

  Starting the car, I reverse out of the parking area and drive to the only place I can actually tolerate at the moment.

  Uncle Dylan opens the door before I reach it.

  From the shadows under his eyes, I assume he hasn’t slept. He’s riddled with worry.

  “Come on,” he says, stepping aside for me to enter.

  I continue into the house and go upstairs to the guestroom, where I’ve been with Sydney. Taking off my shoes, I collapse onto the bed with my face buried in the pillow.

  “We were all worried sick,” Uncle Dylan says from close by. I don’t look at him. “I thought you ran off again. I’ll let your mom know you’re here.”

  Silence follows before the click of the door. Turning onto my side, I shut my eyes and try to sleep. Hoping when I wake again, it would have all been a dream.

  52

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I know I was gonna stay for three more days, but I think Parker needs me.”

  After last night’s brief and painful phone call, I couldn’t sleep, and this morning I woke with an overpowering urge to return to California.

  Dad’s driving me to the airport. I was able to update my ticket and pay the added amount with money from my savings.

  “Are you sure you’re not overthinking, honey?” he asks for the hundredth time, pulling into airport parking.

  “I’m sure. I think something’s wrong. Parker seemed so upset.”

  Dad walks with me inside and waits for me to check-in. When my flight starts to board, he wraps me in a loving embrace. “Gosh, it’s always hard saying goodbye.”

  “I know. It’s temporary, okay.” Is it? I’ve been giving more thought to staying in California with Parker, even after our talk at the rental property.

  Dad kisses my forehead once I pull away. “Hope Parker’s all right. Call me when you land.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.” He pats my arm.

  I wave and join the line, boarding the plane shortly. I manage to relax a little and nap during the flight. But anticipation overwhelms me more than ever when I arrive in California.

  Nia picks me up at the airport as requested. We share a hug before getting in her car.

  “Have you tried calling him again?” she asks the instant she drives away from the airport.

  I nod. “His phone is still off.”

  “So, where should I go?”

  “His house,” I tell her, chipping at my nails out of anxiety.

  We reach Laguna Hills in half an hour, and I direct Nia to the Prescott estate. She waits in the car while I walk to the door and ring the bell.

  Mrs. Prescott opens it after a minute. Her appearance is gloomy. Gray eyes filled with sorrow, shadows beneath them, and dark hair disheveled. She doesn’t look like her usual glamorous self.

  “Sydney?” she rasps out, alcohol on her breath. “I thought you’d be in Seattle until this weekend?”

  “I decided to leave early. Is everything okay with Parker?”

  Her shoulders sag. “No. Parker’s at his—” She drifts into thought briefly and says, “His uncle’s beach house. He left last night and didn’t come back.”

  “Oh.” I motion to my cousin’s car behind me. “I’ll go check on him.”

  “Sydney.” There’s desperation in her tone. “Please tell my son I love him. That I’m sorry, and please come home so we can talk.”

  I nod and spin away. I wonder what’s going on with the family.

  Nia slows down behind Parker’s car outside the beach house minutes later.

  Before she shuts off the engine, I tell her, “It’s okay. Don’t wait for me.”

  She frowns. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get an Uber later. Thanks for helping me out, Nia.”

  “Of course.” She stretches over for a hug.

  Getting out of the car, I watch as she leaves, then walk up the entrance to the front door, ringing the bell for the first time since coming to the house.

  A man answers soon after. He has light blue eyes and dark brown hair like the headmaster. But as I regard his features—the curvature of his chin and the angles of his jaw—the more familiar they look. Wow. He’s like an older version of Parker. Dylan and his nephew resemble a lot.

  He squints at me. “Sydney, right?”

  “Yes. You must be Dylan Prescott.”

  Offering a small smile, he opens the door wider and invites me inside.

  I wring my fingers before me as I speak. “Um, sorry to impose. Is it okay if I see Parker?”

  “Of course.” Dylan gestures to the stairs. “I bet you’re the only one he wants to see right now.”

  Stepping past him, I ascend the luxurious staircase to the second floor, stopping at the guestroom. Without knocking, I open it quietly and enter.

  My heart aches when I see a sleeping Parker on the bed. He’s curled up. His body looks sad.

  I close the door and walk over, slipping off my shoes before climbing in with him. I hold Parker from behind, hoping he’ll feel some sense of peace and support from my presence when he wakes and sees that I’m here.

  53

  Someone’s holding me.

  The feel and scent are familiar. Thinking it must be a dream, I fear opening my eyes. But eventually, I do.

  Elation pushes away the hurt when I glance at her arm. I turn quickly.

  Sydney greets me with absolute love.

  I ease up, forehead creased. I can’t believe it.

  “How are you here?”

  “Caught a flight this morning. I had this strong feeling that you needed me.”

  Before she even finishes the sentence, I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly. My eyes water. How did I end up with such an amazing girl?

  Sydney rubs my back and kisses my neck and cheek. I kiss her lips with urgency.

  “What happened?” she asks in a kind tone when we ease apart.

  Last night’s big reveal comes rushing back.

  I release a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  After a short pause, the words leave my mouth. “Found out Uncle Dylan isn’t my uncle. He’s actually my real dad.”

  She crumples her brows in confusion. “But…how?”

  “Uh, he and my mom had a drunken moment.” I scoff. “He found out last night while going through some things my grandfather left him. My parents kept it from both of us all this time.”

  Sydney turns her head slowly. “God, I don’t know what to say. Can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

  “Happy freaking New Year, huh.” I lower my eyes, staring at the sheets. “I always wanted to know why my dad treats me like that. Now I do.”

  She caresses my face, making me look at her.

  “Wanna know something funny?” I say, snuffling.

  “What?” she asks in a low tone.

  “I used to wish Uncle Dylan was my dad. I always thought he was a cool guy. He never treated me the way Dad did. Even though he’s always traveling and never has a constant woman in his life, somehow, I thought I’d have a better life with him.”

  “Parker…” Sydney carrie
s her fingers through my hair in this soothing motion before embracing me again.

  I allow the years of pent up hurt to bleed out in tears as I cling to her body. She feels so good to hold. Always such a comfort.

  Sydney convinces me to go downstairs later. Uncle Dylan’s sitting on his large sofa, staring at the ocean. The paper from last night is beside him.

  He looks over as we enter the living room. “Are you hungry? I could order something.”

  I turn to Sydney.

  She shrugs.

  I refocus on Uncle Dylan. He rakes a hand through his hair, looking unsure of what to do. The atmosphere feels awkward. It’s never been this way between him and me, until now.

  Sydney flinches as buzzing comes from her pocket. She takes out her phone. “It’s my dad. I was supposed to let him know when I got here.” She walks to the sliding door to answer the phone.

  Dylan steps closer and watches Sydney in awe.

  He says in a low voice, “If you love her just as much, and you end up dating throughout college, marry the girl.”

  I snort. “Is that your first fatherly advice?”

  He slants to me. “That’s just advice in general. This one is special. She hurried back here for you. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

  Sydney finishes talking to her dad and wanders over to us.

  “Let’s at least have dinner,” Uncle Dylan offers. “You too, Sydney. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  She looks at me, eyebrows arched.

  I tell Uncle Dylan, “She doesn’t eat meat.”

  He jokes, “What else is after that?”

  I scoff.

  Sydney squints while looking at him.

  Uncle Dylan splays his hands. “Sorry, bad joke.”

  “No.” She turns her head, passing a look between us. “It’s just...” She adds in a low tone, “I can see similarities.”

  I gulp and stare at the floor.

  Uncle Dylan harrumphs. “Um, one of my exes was vegan. She brought me to this fantastic restaurant once. I’ll get the menu.” He walks into the kitchen.

  Sydney closes the distance between us and loops her arm around me.

  When Uncle Dylan returns with the takeout menu, Sydney and I opt to share a meal. Uncle Dylan orders. We sit on the sofa, waiting in awkward silence.

  “So, how was your holiday, Sydney?” he asks.

  She replies, “Good. I visited relatives on my dad’s side. Met up with friends. It was nice.” She doesn’t ask the question in return because obviously, it’s been a mess for us.

  “Good,” Uncle Dylan says, looking down at the rug.

  Sydney half-smiles when she turns to me.

  I glance at her wrist, only now realizing she’s wearing my bracelet. Reaching for her hand, I interlock our fingers and savor the warmth from her touch.

  Someone knocks on the door.

  “I have a bell,” Uncle Dylan murmurs, getting up to answer it.

  Immediately after, I hear him say, “Not sure he wants to talk to you right now.”

  My body goes tense when Mom replies in a gritty voice, “I need to see my son.”

  She steps into the living room. Uncle Dylan strolls into the archway and leans against it with his arms folded.

  I stand, breathing heavily from anger again.

  Sydney gets up as well.

  Mom looks unkempt, so not her usual self. Her hair is frizzy in a loose bun. Her eyes are red, puffy, and look tired as hell.

  “Parker, could we—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Mom wrings her fingers. “Your grandfather and your dad didn’t think Dylan was capable of taking on the role.”

  “Excuse me?” Uncle Dylan fires back. “None of you had the right to make that decision.”

  “Oh, please.” She twists to him. “You weren’t even here when Parker was born. You bolted right after what happened between us; left me to face Eric alone and stayed away for years. Eric wanted to divorce me and keep Evan. I was terrified.” She looks at me again. “I begged for his forgiveness, even though he didn’t deserve it. All those women he cheated with.”

  Sydney sighs beside me and whispers, “Maybe I should go.”

  “No.” I look at her and mutter, “Stay. Right now, you’re the only person I trust.”

  “Parker,” Mom draws back my attention. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him treat you so unfairly. The way he’d talk to you. Overlook you and praise your brother. I’m really sorry. But the more time went by, the more afraid I was of telling you the truth because I didn’t want you to hate me.”

  “That’s a terrible excuse,” I snap. “I deserved to know. You wouldn’t have said a thing if Uncle Dylan hadn’t found the copy of the test.”

  Tears stream down her pale face. “It felt like it was too late. Like we’d already kept the secret too long, it was pointless disturbing our family.”

  “Unbelievable.” Uncle Dylan straightens in the archway. “You sound just like your husband. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept my son just to spite me for what happened between us.”

  Mom barks at him, “That is not true! By the time Eric found out, he was already attached. He wanted to hold on to Parker.”

  “But he changed,” I remind her. “He became mean towards me. I barely got his affection.” My voice cracks in the last part, making Sydney touch my arm. “I could never meet his expectations. No matter how hard I tried.”

  Mom eyes me with regret. Her tone is softer as she says, “I’m so sorry.”

  The doorbell resounds, filling the tense air.

  “Better not be him,” Uncle Dylan seethes, spinning away. He returns shortly with the takeout.

  I’ve already lost my appetite.

  Mom edges closer to me. “Honey, will you please come back to the house so we can talk through this together? Your dad, he sees what he’s done—”

  “Yeah, right,” I scoff in disbelief. “No. I don’t wanna see that man.”

  “Sweetheart—”

  “Just let him be,” Uncle Dylan grunts. “It’s the least you can do.”

  Mom sniffs and wipes her face with the palm of her hand. “All right. But you can’t ignore us forever.” She lingers on my face a moment before turning to leave, only to stop next to Uncle Dylan. “I’m sorry. You’re right, there’s no excuse. We deprived you of your son.” She continues on her way.

  I hear the door open and close, then release a long exhale.

  Bringing the takeout to the island, Uncle Dylan says to me, “You can stay here for as long as you want.”

  I make a sarcastic smirk. “What about you? How long are you sticking around this time?”

  His face and shoulders wilt. “Parker...”

  “I’m gonna shower.” I look at Sydney. “See you in a bit?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  I give her hand a gentle squeeze before walking out of the living room. I keep my eyes low, not meeting Uncle Dylan’s gaze. I know if I do, I’ll once again see the truth that’s been right in front of my face all this time. The reason why I was always amazed at how much we look like and why I felt a strong connection to him.

  54

  “I’m his father,” Dylan mutters, more so to himself.

  We’re sitting at the fancy waterfall island picking at the food he ordered. Truthfully, I feel like I’m on a tamed version of the Maury show.

  Glancing at me, Dylan laughs short and says, “It scares the shit out of me and excites me at the same time. Parker is mine.”

  I offer a look of empathy and keep listening.

  “You know, I always wanted a son.” He directs his gaze to the stairs. “I even wished for a son like Parker.”

  I smile at that. “Why?”

  He peers down at his food while answering. “He’s just an amazing kid. Evan’s good, too. But he’s a bit more like Eric. Parker...” He lags in deep thought. “I should’ve known. Every time I saw him, I felt something. But he has his mother’s
dark hair and her eyes. I just thought he resembled me because we’re related. That it’s the Prescott genes.” He sighs. “I should’ve asked for a test a long time ago.” He drops his fork into the container and ruffles his hair. “Should have opened that damn box right after Dad gave it to me, but I was so mad at him.”

  “It’s okay. We all have things we regret.”

  Dylan looks at me, light blue eyes sad. “Parker’s turning eighteen in three days. He’s called my brother ‘Dad’ all his life. What can I give him now that he hasn’t already received?”

  “Time,” I reply, remembering Parker’s words to me. “You’ll give him your time, as well as space to take this all in. I know you need that, too. After all, you just learned you have a son.”

  Dylan achieves a smile. “I see why he loves you.”

  We hear Parker’s footsteps coming downstairs and stare at the archway. His hair is damp, and he’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

  “How ‘bout eating something?” Dylan offers, motioning to the food on the island.

  He shakes his head. “Not hungry. Sydney, let’s go.”

  “Geez. Ask nicely,” Dylan scolds, tone soft.

  Parker stiffens his jaw and flicks away.

  “It’s okay.” I stand from the stool. “It was great meeting you, despite the situation.”

  Dylan smiles in return. “See you again soon.”

  “Yeah, if you stick around,” Parker mumbles before going out the door.

  I wave to Dylan before walking away, joining Parker outside by his car.

  “I know you’re angry, but maybe not take it out on him. He didn’t know either.”

  He raises his shoulders in an exasperated shrug and lets out a long exhale. “I’ll drive you home. It’s not fair to pull you into this mess.”

  “No, it’s fine. I wanna be here for you.”

  Stepping closer, he tows me into his strong arms.

  I ask against his chest, “Where were you going after bringing me home?”

  “To Davidson’s. I was planning on drinking the rest of this day away.”