Connor stared at the floor.
Suddenly, the teenager’s confidence made more sense.
Maybe he had grown up believing his father’s name could protect him.
Nathan looked at his son.
“You work at the warehouse after school starting Monday.”
Connor’s head shot up.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I have soccer.”
“Not anymore.”
“Dad!”
“You’ll work until you’ve paid for the damaged groceries, the cleaning, and anything else this woman needs replaced.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t have to pay me.”
Nathan looked at me.
“I know.”
His answer surprised me.
“This isn’t about what I have to do.”
Connor looked furious.
Nathan continued.
“It’s about what he has to do.”
Connor’s voice cracked.
“You’re ruining everything over one stupid joke.”
That made me speak before I could stop myself.
“It wasn’t a joke.”
Connor looked at me.
I shifted Mason higher against my shoulder.
“A joke at someone’s expense is only funny if they’re laughing too.”
