“You know what one of the first things you taught me was that I’ve always remembered?” Todd asked his father.
John shook his head. “What?”
“No one should ever be afraid in their own home. Remember that one, Dad?”
“I do.” John’s gaze shifted to the kitchen doorway.
“This is our home, Dad. Mine and Nick’s. This is Nick’s home. He’s got the right to feel safe in his own home. Nick’s afraid of you. That’s not the way it should be.”
John set his beer down in the sink. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I guess I should have trusted the postal system more.”
“No, Dad.”
Todd stepped forward and grabbed his father’s arm.
“I’m glad you did, actually. Look, I understand why you feel the way you do about slaves, because of Mom. But that wasn’t Nick’s fault. He’s a good guy, and he’s my family.
