Page 46 of Really Truly Yours
Disgust swirls into a malignant mass twisting up my stomach
As I said, like father like son.
Donny’s gaze climbs to mine. Suddenly, forget reading his thoughts, I feel is pain.
My father’s pain.
“What’s going on in here?”
Straightening, turning, I paint on a smile to meet Tripp’s hardened affect. “Not a thing. Just telling Donny here what our plans are for the roof.”
One by one, Tripp eyes our entire guilty party. Poor Sydnee, hauled into this assembly of messed up men. Will she still be talking to me when this is over?
Does it matter?
I table the pending question.
I won’t kid myself that our deer-in-the-headlights welcome fooled Mr. Secret Agent for a second. Nonetheless, he closes the door and cranes to look at the gaping hole.
And then he looks at our father. “Donny.” His nod is barely perceptible.
“I-It’s good to see you again, Tripp.” Donny’s hands are trembling as hard as his voice.
My brother loops his thumbs on his jeans and rocks onto the balls of his feet with a smile that strains the bounds of pleasantry. “You got quite a mess on your hands.”
Ouch. Nothing neutral about Tripp’s tone. Yes, Sydnee will be happy to see the last of us…Grayson men?
Wow. What a thought.
I manage to unfreeze, announce that Tripp and I need to go onto the roof—and then leave my most recent personal mess in my wake.
It takes less than a minute up top to confirm the obvious. A couple sheets of plywood and a pair of blue tarps are not going to fix this mess. All I see is rot. There’s not enough healthy wood to nail anything to, the whole roof might come down if we try, and I’m already praying we can figure a way to affix the tarps without one of us creating a new chute into the house.
Back on terra firma, Tripp stares into my soul. “You’ve got some explaining to do, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grab a screwdriver from the tool box he brought along and puncture the plastic wrap on the first tarp.
There’s a lengthy pause followed by a longer sigh. “He looks like death.”
I toss the screwdriver, which lands with a metallic clank in the box. “I noticed.”
“Believe it or not, Donny was a pretty decent-looking guy back in the day.”
I pull the plastic free with my hands. “Hey, I look in the mirror every morning. I believe it.”
“You’re a cocky son of a gun, you know that?”
I lay the tarp onto the tailgate and slap the other one into Tripp’s stomach, and he catches it. “Runs in the family.”
Chuckling, he rips into the packaging on his. “So, what’s your plan?”
“Plan?”
“For tonight. There’re more storms in the forecast. A little more rain and the whole ceiling could cave in. And for safety, the electric should be cut.”
“I know.” Lifting my cap, I fork fingers into my hair. “I guess I’ll get him a hotel. If he’ll go.”
“You think he won’t?”