9

“And the man?”

“Otto. He’s a nice guy. I’ll tell him you didn’t mean any offense by offering him money.” Rip’s smile faded. “Why did you do that?”

Her cheeks reddened slightly. She cleared her throat and pulled out her phone. “I should make sure Tom brings you a change of clothes. Please excuse me.”

She left the room quickly and Rip sighed. Whatever her real issue with Otto was, she had no intention of sharing.

His father pulled up a chair and gave him a level look. “Give her time. She still sees you as her little boy and now that she’s working less, I think she feels guilty about missing out on so much.” He dropped his gaze. “We both do.”

“You were there when it mattered. Neither Hannah nor I have ever wanted for anything.” It had taken him a long time to sort out his feelings toward his parents. To claim his own life, and come to terms with the mistakes they’d made. In the end, facing that none of them were perfect had brought the family closer together. And he was able to treasure all the good times they’d had.

“We never wanted to hurt you, Rip.” His father put a hand over his and sighed. He only used the nickname when his wife wasn’t around, and always in conversations when he wanted to reach out to Rip, man to man. “When I heard what happened, I was afraid…afraid I hadn’t told you enough how much I love you.”

This wasn’t the first time his father had apologized, and likely wouldn’t be the last. Rip wished there was a way to let him know it was all in the past.

Maybe, one day, he’d believe it.

“I love you too, Dad.” He squeezed his father’s hand. “It was an accident. We’re good, okay?”

Nodding slowly, his father smiled. “Good. And before your mother comes back, I just want to say you're right. You should call him. You need more friends.”

“Ah…thanks?”

The door opened and his mother stepped into the room, looking relaxed. “Tom will be here in a little bit. And Hannah called. She sends her love and is happy to hear you’re all right.”

“Good. Because I am.” Rip straightened his hospital gown, more than ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m sorry I worried you. I just…when I saw them shove the dog out of the car and drive away I had to stop.”

“Of course you did.” His father stood and hooked his arm around his mother’s waist. “You’re our son.”

Even though his mother looked tired, there was something in her eyes as they met his that filled him with warmth. Something he couldn’t remember ever seeing before. She might not speak the word, because his actions didn’t fit with her idea of how neat and orderly his life should be, but she still felt it.

She was proud of him.

He wasn’t the son she’d thought she’d raised in so many ways. For most of his life, he’d been different. Not strong enough. Not ambitious enough.

But he’d finally done something right.