While Beau read over the letter, Vin hovered, anxious and wringing his hands.
“What do you think?”
“I think I ain’t finished reading it yet,” Beau said. “But since I know that won’t hold you for long—”
“Well, what?”
“Have you thought about what Marlin said?” Beau would know, better than anyone, the pain of being rejected by a parent for a matter Vin had no control over.
“That my father might be disappointed to learn that the son he abandoned years ago and hasn’t thought twice about in the last twenty years is a f*****g faggot?”
“Watch them teeth, there, babe,” Beau snapped, wincing. “There’s no call to bite my head off.”
“Sorry.” Vin wasn’t. He paced around the room again, his head still delicate. He checked the clock; it was a personal rule of his not to drink before lunch, except
