What had Bianca told them? And would it change anything?
My father looked up and saw me standing there before my mother did. His face transformed. “Jackson,” he said, smiling. “Good morning.”
My mother looked up, slowly set her fork down onto her plate, and blinked, gazing at me like she’d never seen me before.
All in all, it was unsettling.
I walked stiffly to the table. My father stood. I cleared my throat, awkward words of greeting on my tongue, but he canceled that plan when he opened his arms and grabbed me in a bear hug, squeezing tighter than a man in his seventies should be capable of.
“Son,” he said, his voice choked. “Oh, son.” He gave me a good, hard shake. “It’s so good to have you home.”
Wide-eyed, I looked over his shoulder at my mother. She was dabbing at her eyes with
