Chapter Ten Donovan I was in the kitchen when my son came upstairs in his fast-food-chain uniform. “I’m goin’ to work,” he said. “I’ll be home around ten.” “He’s upset because the two of you yell and argue, but you never talk,” Isaac had said. “He doesn’t think you’re interested in anything he does.” “Hang on a sec, Ryan.” He stopped and turned around, one hand still on the door. “Yeah?” I cleared my throat. “You, um, want a ride to work?” He balked. “You don’t mind?” “No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m heading out anyway and figured you could use a little practice behind the wheel.” “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Yeah, that’d be great.” I tossed him the car keys. “Let’s go, then.” He stared at the keys in his hand, then shot me an incredulous look. When I picked up my jacket and wallet, his eyes widened, like he hadn’t thought I was actually serious. Smiling, I nodded toward the door. The “who are you and what have you done with my father?”
