Chapter 332: So, About Stealing Your Son…

The drive back home felt a lot brighter than our usual trips from the hospital. Dad was busy talking non-stop about how he planned to celebrate his regained ability to walk after years using a wheelchair after waking up from a coma.

He started with the idea of a decent meal and ended with a firm statement that he wouldn’t touch hospital food again unless someone could guarantee that the veggies were seasoned by an actual person.

"Some of those meals were edible, you know," I shot back from the driver’s seat.

"Oliver, I’ve been eating your cooking for twenty-five years. Trust me, I know what real food tastes like, and that wasn’t it."

Damien made a noise that sounded suspiciously like he was holding back laughter, and I noticed him shaking a bit.

I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You can keep your thoughts to yourself, Lockwood."

"I haven’t said a thing."

"Your face is saying plenty."

"My face is innocent of your accusations, Sunshine."

"Your face has never been innocent, not a day in its damn life."

Dad laughed so hard, he had to pause for breath, which I counted as a small victory, even if it had nothing to do with my cooking skills.

When we finally got home, Damien helped Dad get settled in the living room, while I put the hospital papers away and arranged his medication according to the doctor’s instructions.

Seeing Dad in his favorite chair, sunlight spilling across the floor, and his cane within reach made the house feel more like home than it had in weeks. It also reminded me there was something important I had to tell him.

I waited until Damien offered to make some tea, then asked Dad if we could chat privately for a moment. His expression shifted to curiosity, but he followed me into the kitchen without asking any questions.

He settled at the table, a spot where we had spent countless evenings discussing bills, school assignments, terrible TV shows, and all the little things that made life feel more manageable, even when everything else was spiraling out of control.

I sat across from him and realized that telling my father I was moving away was proving to be way harder than telling Damien I loved him. Which seemed ridiculous given that I had already endured an emotional rollercoaster of sorts over the past few weeks.

"Dad, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about."

He folded his hands on the table, giving me his full attention. "All right, Ollie. What’s going on?"

"Nothing’s really wrong, exactly."

"Oliver."

"Right, sorry. I know that usually means something’s wrong, but I promise this isn’t a disaster. No one’s died, no one’s getting arrested, and I haven’t beat up anyone recently."

His eyebrows shot up. "Recently?"

"That was a joke. Please don’t focus on the wrong part of the conversation."

Dad gave me a look that suggested he’d definitely come back to that later, but he gave me the nod to continue. I took a deep breath, rubbed my palms against my pants, and said, "I’m going to the city with Damien."

Dad just stared at me, then he glanced toward the living room, where Damien seemed busy with the kettle, before turning back to me with an expression like a man who just found out his son was planning to run off and join the circus.

"The city," he repeated.

"Yep."

"With Damien."

"That’s how the sentence goes, yes."

"And when did this all happen?"

"Yesterday."

Dad leaned back in his chair, studying me for a few seconds before he slowly shook his head. "I leave you two alone for a couple of days and suddenly we’re talking about relocating."

I covered my face with both hands. "Crap, I knew you would say something like that."

"Well, it’s my job to be surprised when my son decides to up and move cities overnight."

"It’s not overnight! We’re planning this properly, and I’m not leaving tomorrow."

"Good, because I haven’t even had time to prepare my dramatic farewell speech."

I lowered my hands, and even though his teasing made me smile, the knot in my stomach didn’t really ease up.

"Dad, I know this is happening fast, but I’ve thought it through. I don’t want to go through life worrying that Damien will just disappear again, and I don’t want fear to dictate my choices. For years, I convinced myself I had to move on because he wasn’t coming back, but now he’s here, and I still love him. I never stopped loving him."

My voice got softer as I looked down at my hands.

"I promised myself that if I got another chance with him, I would hold on tight and not let go just because I was scared. I realize it won’t always be easy, and there are still things we need to work out, but I want to try. I want to build a life with him, Dad. And let’s face it, there’s no one else for me."

For a long moment, Dad was silent, and the quiet made me nervous enough that I almost started over with my explanation.

Then he reached across the table, covering my hand with his. "I’m very proud of you, Oliver."

I looked up at him, a little shocked.

"You’ve spent so many years caring for everyone else that I sometimes worried you’d never let yourself be happy without feeling guilty about it," he continued, his tone warm yet serious. "You stressed about me, worked yourself to the bone, and kept trying to convince me everything was fine even when I could see how exhausted you were. I know you were lonely when Damien left, sweetheart. I saw it, even when you thought you were hiding it from me."

My throat tightened a bit. "I didn’t want you to worry."

"Oh, Kiddo, I’m your father. Worrying about you comes with the territory."

I managed a weak laugh, blinking back tears that were threatening to spill over.

"But I also know you loved him," Dad added. "And I get how much it hurt when he was gone. I won’t pretend those four years didn’t happen, and I won’t tell you to forget what you went through. You deserve better than that. But if you’ve decided to give this another chance, then I’m happy for you."

He squeezed my hand. "I’m glad you found each other again, Ollie. I truly am."

I moved around the table before he could say anything else and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight while he patted my back with that familiar patience of someone who’s been comforting me for as long as I can remember.

"I’m going to miss you, Dad." I whispered.

"I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss you too, although I have a feeling Damien will find my frequent calls rather inconvenient."

"Please don’t scare my boyfriend."

Dad pulled back just enough to look at my face, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Your boyfriend?"

I froze and he grinned. "Oh, this is wonderful. Say it again."

"Dad."

"My son has a boyfriend again! I should have baked a cake."

"I’m begging you, just act normal."

"After twenty-five years of watching you pretend you didn’t need anyone, I think I deserve a little celebration."

I groaned, resting my forehead against his shoulder while he laughed, and for the first time since starting this whole conversation, that knot in my stomach started to loosen.

When Damien finally came back with three cups of tea, Dad was still smiling way too much for my comfort.

"I hear you’re stealing my son away," he announced.

Damien stopped beside the table, glanced at me, and set the cups down like a man who knows better than to challenge a dad in his own kitchen.

"I’m hoping to convince him to come with me," he replied. "But it’s his choice, and I’d never ask him to leave if he didn’t want to."

Dad studied him for a moment. "And are you planning to stay this time?"

There was no accusation in his voice, but the question weighed heavily in the air.

Damien took a chair next to me, his expression turning serious as he met Dad’s gaze.

"Yes," he said. "I can’t change what happened in the past, and I know saying I have my reasons for leaving won’t make the years Oliver spent alone any easier. I hurt him, regardless of what I intended, and I’m not asking either of you to pretend otherwise. But I’m not leaving him again. I love your son, and I want to build a life with him, not just go back to how things were before."

His hand found mine under the table, fingers gently wrapping around mine.

"I can’t promise that things will always be easy, but I can promise that I won’t make any decisions about our future without him, and I won’t disappear when the going gets tough. He deserves to know where he stands with me, and I’ll spend my life making sure he never has to doubt he’s wanted."

I stared at him, my heart doing something embarrassingly complex inside my chest, while Dad watched him with an expression that was both thoughtful and quietly satisfied.

Finally, he nodded.

"Okay, son. I believe you." Damien visibly relaxed, though he stayed attentive as Dad continued. "But I have two conditions."