Prologue

Prologue

Mason

Mason, age five…

"Arthur, it's your turn to have your child," Mom emphasized.

Her voice dragged me out of the magical world of the Magic Tree House book I was reading. How I wish I could have a special place like Jack and Annie so I could escape my parents' fights.

I'd be great with solving the riddles, freeing Morgan from a spell, and becoming a Master Librarian. What'd I give to be in the Caribbean Sea facing pirates or… anything would be better than listening to Mom yell because I ruined her plans—again.

I held on tight to my book, staring at the letters and listening to her rant over her car phone. The next call was to my soon-to-be stepfather. "Yes, Dave, I'll be home today. Arthur will keep him for the entire summer."

But will Dad want me?

"You can leave me with Grandma Milli," I offered.

Mom glanced briefly at me in the back seat. I wanted to remind her that the road was in front of her, and we could crash, but I stayed quiet.

"If you're done with that book, I have another one in your bag. I'll hand it to you once you're with your father."

I looked at her but didn't utter a word. If I told her I finished it, she might get upset because I never pace myself. If I didn't, she'd get mad because I wasted my time daydreaming. It was hard to please my parents, but no one could say I didn't try.

I sighed with relief when I spotted the enormous stone arch and the iron gate. We were finally there. But then, my tummy rumbled with hunger and twisted with fear. What if Dad didn't want me either?

"I'm here to drop off Mason to his irresponsible father," Mom spoke to a black box, similar to the one at the hamburger drive thru.

No one answered, but the gates parted. I covered my face with my book and squeezed my eyes tightly. I had no idea what I was afraid of, but this felt worse than those nights when I couldn't sleep because there were monsters under my bed.

Mom drove forward until the car stopped. I lowered my book and noticed the big house with bright lights and two men standing outside the door. I recognized one of them—Dad. He was tall—gigantic like Thor, but short dark hair like mine. He always wore jeans and a white cotton shirt. It was like a uniform. His eyes were gray as the sky when a storm was brewing—same as mine.

The other man wasn't as tall as Dad, but he was strong and had tattoos all over his arms.

Mom helped me with my seat belt, putting me down on the ground. Then, she walked to the trunk, grabbing my bag. She shoved it toward Dad.

Dad squatted to greet me. "Hey, little man, it's good to see you." He smiled briefly as he studied me, then gave me a hug.

My tummy stopped hurting as much. When he released me, he smiled. "You grew again. One day you might be taller than me."

I shrugged because I didn't know if that was possible.

When he turned to look at Mom, his eyes darkened. He was furious. "Mina, I'm working." He stood up and glared at Mom. "You can't just drop him off like this."

She placed her hands on her hips the same way she did when she was angry at me for leaving my toys all over the floor. "You wanted joint custody. Well, here he is. It's your turn. This isn't a restaurant where you get to pick and choose. You've already skipped Christmas and Easter."

He did.

Mom made sure to tell everyone in her family that he was an irresponsible bastard. Well, those weren't the exact words, but they're pretty similar. That's the Japanese translation. I'm ninety-nine percent sure of it. Mom's family is part Japanese, part American, and part Canadian.

There are times when it's challenging to keep up with what Mom says because it could be in either French, English, or Japanese, but I'm getting good at it.

Still, I didn't want to believe Dad was a bastard. He called me every time he had promised. He picked me up when it was his turn, and he read me stories too.

"My turn is the last two weeks of summer," Dad explained to her. His loud voice made me cover my ears with my hands. As my book dropped, the other guy picked it up and offered it to me. I didn't take it because then I'd have to uncover my ears.

"Well, I don't care, Arthur." Mom's voice matched Dad's tone. "Just like you didn't give a shit during the holidays. I'm getting married, and I want to spend some alone time with my new husband."

"What is it, husband number three or four?" Dad questioned and then chuckled. "Nevermind, I don't care. I'm going to be away working, and no one will be here with him."

"That's your problem." Mom dusted her hands. "If you decide to change the custody agreement, be aware that you won't see him again—ever."

My lip quivered—the idea of never seeing my father dropped down to my stomach, making my chest and everything else ache. I didn't see him often, but when I did, it was fun.

"You'll have more time to sleep with all those whores," Mom continued. "You're a depraved asshole, just like your employers."

The guy with bright-green eyes lifted me up. "Arthur, he's welcome to stay for the summer. The kids will have fun." He tilted his head toward Mom. "You shouldn't talk like this around your child. Excuse me."

"You're growing up," the man said. "You might not remember me. I'm Chris. I met you when you were a baby." He set me down as we stepped inside a room with toys, books, and some puzzles.

"Thank you, Decker," I heard Dad say. "I can make other arrangements. Check if my brother and sister-in-law?—"

"Nah." The man shook his head. "The days you have to travel for work, there'll be someone to look after him. Gabe and I are always at home with the kids. One more will be fun."

"This is a one-time thing," Dad assured him.

"Or you can keep your time with him." Chris shrugged. "We have extra rooms and plenty of stuff for him to do."

They did have plenty of things. There was a playground, two pools, a playroom, computers, and toys. Their children were younger than me, but the difference in our ages didn't matter as the years progressed.

Whenever my mother had to drop me off with Dad, she'd talk about him as if he was this evil man who only took me because he had to. I never understood why they fought over who should or shouldn't get to have me.