A man climbed out alone.
“I’m Christian. Chase’s father.”
“I figured.”
He looked toward the garage.
“Chase said I should see it. He thinks I’ll understand if I do.”
“Will you?”
Christian gave a tired smile.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe not. But showing up is a start.”
He nodded.
Then he thanked me for giving Chase work.
“He talks about this place constantly. I didn’t understand how important it was.”
Christian stared at the old garage.
“I honestly thought I was doing enough.”
“The money?”
“The support payments. Clothes. Weekends.”
I folded my arms.
“Were you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Finally, he shook his head.
“Probably not.”
For the first time, I didn’t see him as some rich villain who didn’t care about his son.
I saw a man who had confused providing money with being a parent.
“They’re not the same thing,” I said.
