Only In His Sweetest Dreams(2)

“What’s up?”

“It’s me,” Britta said. “Your son was arrested tonight.”

Not dead. He let out a breath and sat up, light-headed with relief. “Finally showing some Fogarty colors. Good for him.”

Silence.

He pushed his fingertip and thumb into his eyes, pinching the sleep out of them. Waiting out her annoyance. Waiting for the inevitable—

“So you don’t care.”

He ignored that. “What happened? Party? Oh, hell, he wasn’t protesting, was he?” That he could believe.

“Attempted arson. In a senior’s complex.” Her tone was sharp with can-you-believe-this-shit.

“They’ve got the wrong kid,” he said, even as he pictured his family home leveled by fire two years ago. But blame had been assigned. Zack had nothing to do with it.

“Of course they’ve got the wrong kid!” Brit sounded like she was red-lining.

“Hey. Come in off the ledge. He’s fine.” He wasn’t dead.

“He’s not fine! God, you never take anything seriously.”

He quit reaching for his jeans in the dark, begged the ceiling for patience, and reached for the pencil and notebook on the table instead. “Tell me where he’s being held. I’ll make some calls. You can go back to bed.”

“That’d be great, but we’re teething and out of gel, so there’s no point, is there?”

Don’t go there, he thought, but it came out anyway. “My fault too?”

Silence.

How was it they could be pushing forty, be divorced longer than they had been married, yet continued to needle each other like they were still in high school?

She must have thought the same thing. Her tone lowered to something more civil.

“He was released a while ago. He’s probably back at the dorm by now.”

“So he’s not in jail.” That was good news, but L.C.’s tension shifted to resentment. “Your cop husband spring him?”

“My lawyer father did.” It was still vintage Britta, cleaning up the mess then blasting him for not doing it himself.

If he’d been paying attention, he would have known Zack was fine from the moment he answered. She only got snotty and unbearable once a crisis had passed. Recognizing that didn’t lighten him up any.

“So you’re just calling to inform me. Zack doesn’t need anything.”

“Well, I thought you should go make sure he’s all right.”

“Did he sound all right?”

“I don’t know! Dad talked to him.”

“Zack didn’t call you?” That surprised him, but it explained why Brit was so testy. L.C. smirked. Welcome to being a redundant parent, sweetheart. He’d had to get used to it, but it was nice to know it irritated the hell out of her, too.

“Dad said Zack made a good case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the college is still liable to make him an example. I think you should go make sure they don’t expel him or anything.”

“I should do that.” Last he’d heard, his parenting efforts weren’t necessary. When had he become a valued part of the team?

“Well, I have my hands full, don’t I? And you’re not doing anything. Paige said you’re not working.”

Ah. Of course she had called his sister first. It didn’t surprise him, but aggravated him all the same. “Paige doesn’t know what I’m doing.” No one did. It was too close to the bone.

“So you won’t go and help your son.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She wasn’t listening. She was talking to someone in the room with her.

“He doesn’t even care that his son was arrested and could be expelled.” She came back on the line, strident and full of the self-righteousness that made her great in the practice of family law, but a bitch of an ex-wife. “Is partying really more important than your child?”

“I’m not at a party.” He spoke through tight lips, thinking of the one-week high-school equivalency boot camp he was starting tomorrow. He would dump it in a heartbeat if Zack asked, but after this attack, he’d be damned if he’d do it for her. “I’m also not in Arizona. Zack’s eighteen. If he wants me, he knows how to reach me, but it sounds like he’s got things under control. Got himself out of jail, didn’t he? It took me a few tries to get good at it.”

“Are you in jail now? Is that why you won’t go?”

“Jesus, Brit. If Zack asks for me, I’ll go.”

“He shouldn’t have to ask. I’m asking on his behalf and I shouldn’t have to— Now she’s up again!” She made a noise of sheer frustration while a baby cried in the background. “Do whatever the hell you want. You will anyway.” She hung up.

“Kisses for baby,” L.C. muttered as he stabbed to end the call and dropped the phone on the blanket beside him. His chest hurt and it wasn’t just his son’s arrest causing it. Those healthy cries from the baby held his lungs in a vice for a long few breaths until he pulled himself back from helpless terror and futile anger to bleak acceptance.

Is partying more important than your child?

He stared into the darkness, focusing on Zack so he wouldn’t think about heading to the nearest bar and ordering a drink.

Surely Zack knew all he had to do was ask. Maybe they hadn’t spent a lot of time together in the last couple of years, but they texted all the time. And okay, maybe it wasn’t right to make Zack ask him for help, but what was he supposed to do? Take for granted he was needed? His own father had never shown up for anything unless subpoenaed. That’s how L.C. had learned not to rely on anyone.

He rubbed his face again. Swore. Reached for his jeans and stood to tug them on.





Chapter 2





Wandering the Flagstaff campus at nine o’clock the next morning, L.C. kicked himself for being too lazy to walk to the office for a map. Zack wasn’t answering his texts and he was about to write off this escapade when he overheard a pair of girls talking about ‘those guys who were arrested last night.’

“Any idea where I’d find them?” he interrupted the girls to ask.

Wearing startled doe-eyes, one pointed. “Dean’s office.”

Nodding his thanks, L.C. followed the sidewalk and practically bumped into Zack talking on his cell as he exited a building with a handful of young men. Most of them walked with hunched shoulders, tails lodged well between their legs, but Zack wore an intent expression and nodded as he spoke, gaze fixed on the distance in concentration.

Watching his son was like looking at his wedding photo—without the dorky swooped hair and tightly tailored suit, of course—but Zack’s lanky six-foot height and swarthy dark coloring were pure Fogarty.

Homesickness struck L.C. He had left because he couldn’t face what had been coming at him, but he had missed his son. A lot. If women had maternal instincts of softness and nurturing, he had paternal instincts of readiness to protect. All his muscles and sinews tightened, followed with a slap of failure that he was getting good at sloughing off. He shrugged now, pulling away from everything except what was right in front of him.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that,” Zack was saying. “Ten o’clock. I’ll be there.” Without looking up, he pocketed his phone and turned to unlock his bike.

“Hey, jailbird,” L.C. greeted, coming up beside him.

Zack looked up, his frown blanking into surprise, then a wide smile of recognition. “Dad!”

He straightened and almost moved for a hug, which would have been natural a few years ago, but evaporated every time Zack remembered he was still mad at him. Zack faltered and L.C. ignored the pang that hit him, offering to shake.

“What are you doing here?” Zack asked, cautious as they dropped their grip.

“Heard you got yourself into hot water last night.”

Zack waved it off and turned to his bike lock. “I was trying to stop the other guys.”

L.C. rubbed his stubbled jaw. Sounded about right. Just like his Auntie Paige, Zack only ever got into trouble when his do-gooder instincts went too far.

“So you don’t need anything.” It was a let down, but not a massive one. His worst nightmare was that his son would make the same mistakes he had. He was disgusted he’d let Britta’s ‘he shouldn’t have to ask’ comment get to him. He could have saved himself this sense of irrelevance.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Zack strapped on his helmet. “You should have texted. Sorry it’s a wasted trip.”

“I did text. And it’s not a waste if you join me for breakfast. Or do you have class?”

“No, I, uh....” Zack mounted his bike than slouched on the seat. “I mean, I do have class, but I actually have to move out of the dorm right now.”

“Oh.” L.C. absorbed that. “So everything’s fine except you’re kicked out.”

“Just from rez. The other guys got expelled, but I talked the Dean into letting me stay in school.”

Impressive. “Where will you go?”

“Not sure, but I’ll figure it out.” Zack leaned his elbows on the handlebars and skiffed his feet as he rolled forward at a speed L.C. could pace. His shoes scrape-scraped and his tires ticked. He nodded at a girl they passed.