Gavin
I stared at my phone for a long time before I called.
It was past midnight, but I knew he’d answer.
“Gavin?” My dad’s voice was low, rough with sleep but alert. “Is everything alright?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know.”
A pause. Then, “You sound like you’re carrying something heavy, son.”
“I just—” I swallowed. “I talked with Caz tonight.”
“That’s… unexpected,” Dad said slowly. “How’d it go?”
“Weird. Good, maybe. We didn’t fight. He’s… not the villain I wanted him to be.”
“I didn’t think he was.”
Of course he didn’t. My dad always saw people for who they were, not who we wanted them to be.
I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. “I think I’ve been blaming the wrong person.”
Another beat of silence, then, “It’s hard to admit when someo
