I think some self-righteous part of me expected the call. That side of me has been at war with the not-a-complete-asshole side since I got home from the ranch.

I know David's a good guy. I know deep down that he wouldn't be the type of parent who'd treat his daughter any differently if she were queer. I also know I'm not this horrible monster of a person who jumps to conclusions and assumes the worst of people.

I don't know what's wrong with me. Every time the subject comes up around David, I get way too sensitive. It's like my heart's trying to compensate for this ridiculous crush; protecting me by making sure David won't even like me as a friend by the time I get done with him.

As I sit at home, I start to pick up the phone a million times to tell him that. Minus the part about the crush, of course. But I never manage the courage to do it, and a part of me is still waiting for him to call first.

He does, which makes me feel all kinds of worse. Until he invites me to join him at Gracie's Place tomorrow night.

"I was wrong," he says. "I guess Riley does have a crush. I'm sorry I acted like an ass."

"I'm the one who should apologize," I tell him, at least managing to be something other than horrible in this moment.

We talk about the kids and how Riley told him. I don't feel right betraying Julie's confidence, but I do let him know I'm pretty sure it'll go well. Then he lets me in on his big plan and asks for my help.

We've come around to it in a weird way, but by the end of the night, we're colluding in an innocent matchmaking scheme. And I feel… light. Giddy. With just a few words, all that tension is gone. I've got something to focus on, and as much as I'm used to doing things by myself, it feels right to partner with David on this.

Late Sunday, I swing by the Petersons' place and pick up Julie. I have to fib a bit and tell them I need her help with a student. It's not a lie, but I just don't know how they'd take anything that was more truthful.

Actually, I do know how they'd take it. Julie would be confined to her room until her eighteenth birthday. It's a dangerous game to play, especially in my position, but the nervous smile on Julie's face as I drive her over to the diner makes it all worth it.

David's car is there already, and he and Riley are waiting out front. She looks nervous as hell, and it works my own nerves into a tangle. Even knowing what I do about Julie's feelings, there's still so much that could go wrong. I just want them to be able to figure out things for themselves without the whole world deciding to have an opinion on it.

"Hey. Thanks for the invite," I greet them, playing dumb.

"Anytime," David says. "Little chilly out here. You wanna head inside?"

I voice my agreement, since the girls both seem too nervous to say anything. Once we're inside, a new dilemma pops up. David mentioned separate tables, but how to suggest that without giving away the game?

"Why don't we get two tables? I need to talk to Mr. Morrison about the fundraiser. Lots of numbers and other stuff nobody else wants to hear about."

Oh, he's good. A grin tugs at my lips, but I try to temper it.

"Yeah, no thanks," Riley agrees, and I can see the surge of confidence as she takes the assist from her dad. "Come on, we can find a booth while the old folks talk retirement plans."

"Wow. Love you too, sweetheart," David jokes.

Riley flashes him a grin, but her expression softens into a genuine smile that's hard to read as anything other than gratitude. I watch David watch her and I feel that now-familiar twinge in my chest.

I never thought much about having a family. As a teacher, I've got dozens of kids I think of as mine. But seeing David interact with his daughter makes me realize I'd love to have somebody look at me like that one day. Even with the slight rolling of the eyes when things get a little too sappy.

Which they definitely are right now. I take the lead and find a table that's a respectable distance away from Julie and Riley, and David takes a seat on the other side.

"Nice work," I say quietly, glancing back to the girls.

"It was either that or ‘Hey, why don't you guys sit together on your date so you can talk and oh did I mention this is a date?'"

I laugh, wishing I didn't find David's… Davidness as endearing as I do.

"Maybe a little wordy, yeah."

For a little while, we just sit at our table with our menus open, pretending like we're not sneaking looks at the first date that's happening a few tables away from us. I can feel David's leg shaking the table a little, and my fingers are drumming out a tuneless rhythm on my knee.

When I catch his eye, all I can do is shrug. The chagrined smile I get in answer tells me we're in the same boat. Desperately wanting to know what's going on, but knowing we have to let them work it out for themselves.

It's going to kill me if I focus on it, so I do actually take a look at the menu, even though I already know I'm getting the patty melt.

"I really am sorry about yesterday," David says, breaking the long silence. I look up from my menu and find his gaze focused on me.

"It's okay. I overreacted. I've been taking everything too damn personally lately, and I don't know why."

I do know why, but I'm not about to confess.

"Nah, you had every right to call me out on that. I can only imagine how it sounded. I just… I want you to know it really doesn't matter to me, one way or the other. Trust me, I'm equally as terrified by the thought of her starting to date girls as I am of her dating guys," he admits with a sheepish grin.

I laugh, not able to resist the urge to sneak another glance at them. They're both smiling, though right now it looks like Riley's showing Julie something on her phone. Whatever helps break the ice.

"I know that," I assure him. "I never thought you were the type of person who'd be weird about it. And what I said about my dad… it was uncalled for."

A heavy silence settles over our table. Thankfully, the server comes to take our order, giving me all the cover I need to avoid talking about my dad anymore.

"Truth is, I have no idea what I'm doing." David's words are a surprise after the server leaves; like he was sitting on them for hours, just waiting to get that admission off his chest. "I used to work a 60-hour-a-week corporate job. My wife took care of Riley. Then I got laid off, she got a job opportunity, and we switched roles. I never really felt like I found my footing before she… passed."

Maybe he has been sitting on this for a while. Probably since his wife's death. I know I have to choose my words carefully—to be supportive without prying—but there's one thing I just can't let go.

"Did your family support you at all? Siblings, parents, in-laws?"

He lets out a single, bitter laugh that tells me everything I need to know. "They were there for the service, and I still get the occasional Facebook message about how Riley and I are in their thoughts and prayers. But no, we've been on our own for a long time now."

I think most people wouldn't be able to imagine a family just abandoning somebody like that—not when it was so obvious they needed help. But I understand it perfectly.

"I know the feeling," I tell him.

I can feel his eyes on me, and my stomach tightens into knots as I anticipate his next question. "Your dad?"

"Both of my parents," I say on a heavy exhale. "Travis, too, though it wasn't really his fault."

Our drinks come, and we both take that moment to look over to Julie and Riley's booth again. Still smiling. Still looking at something on Riley's phone. There's some giggling going on, too, and it’s like a balm over the wound I've exposed.

When I look back at David, though, all I can feel is… longing. Not for him, exactly. Not in that way. Not at this moment, even if that thrum of interest is always in the back of my mind. Right now I'm mostly coming to the realization that having that wound opened up isn't the worst thing in the world, and for once I actually want someone to see it.

“My dad was a big college football star. Probably Heisman-bound, and he would’ve gone to the top of the draft no question… if he hadn’t blown out his knee.”

David sucks in a hiss of air through his teeth. The server comes back and we put in our orders, giving me time to beg off from the rest of this story.

But I want to tell it. I want him to know.

“I never had any athletic ability whatsoever, but Trav? He was a natural the first time he picked up a ball. I think Dad saw his second chance, and he spent pretty much every waking hour grooming my brother for a professional football career.”

“Which left no time for you,” David says.

“Or my mom. She left, and I ended up a latchkey kid and then some for the rest of junior high and high school. Dad was always with Travis, and as soon as he started on the varsity team, that was it. I barely saw either of them.”

David’s brow furrows. “I can’t imagine that. I mean, my parents weren’t great, but they at least put in their eighteen years.”

I shrug a little, glancing over to the girls’ table just for a reprieve from David’s big, sympathetic eyes. “I turned out okay, so I can’t say it was that bad. But if you ever need somebody to empathize with having family members who are technically there, but not really there? I’m your guy.”

“Not really a title anybody would want, huh.”

“I don’t know. I could dress it up a little. I could be Independence Man,” I say, pitching my voice like I’m a superhero. “No, that makes it sound like I’m distributing illegal pamphlets during the revolution.”

“Wow. I didn’t think it was possible to combine superheroes and a history lesson. Bravo,” he says, clapping.

I grin at that, trying not to marvel at how quickly my mood seems to turn around. I don’t know that it’s even David being funny. It’s just the fact that he’s here.

We get our food, and that keeps us occupied for a good five minutes or so as we just enjoy Eric’s cooking. He must have some other stuff going on tonight, because he hasn’t popped his head out of the kitchen once. But I can tell when he’s made a dish versus when one of the other cooks did it. There’s just an extra layer of flavor nobody else can seem to master.

As I eat, though, my mind keeps circling back. I know I shouldn’t ruin the good vibe we’ve got going, but I have to know more.

“Can I ask… what happened to your wife?”

David looks up at me as he’s chewing, and while there’s the slightest hint of surprise in his features, he doesn’t look pained. After a sip of his water, he responds.

“Car accident. Semi ran a red light.”

“Jesus.” I know my utter horror must show on my face, but I can’t seem to control it. The thought of that…

“They said it was instant.” His voice is softer, and when his gaze flicks to Riley, I understand why. “I guess it’s easier that way. I didn’t… have to make any hard decisions. By the time I got to the hospital, there was nothing anyone could do.”

“Still, it’s… I’m so, so sorry, David.”

My heart aches for him, and I reach out to put my hand on his arm. I don’t know what I’m hoping to accomplish, but I feel like I need that contact right now, and hopefully he does, too.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. He just gives me a small smile, and I withdraw my hand.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job with Riley.”

He blows out a breath, then turns his attention toward his daughter. She’s moved into the other side of the booth and is sitting right next to Julie. They’re still watching videos or something, but it looks like that whole first date thing is going really well.

“Yeah, she hasn’t turned out too bad at all.”

* * *

Julie couldn’t stop talking about the date as I drove her home.

I would never, ever describe her as talkative, but she spoke a mile a minute the whole time, and I just listened with the biggest grin on my face. Her excitement, her hope, her obvious adoration for Riley shone through in every word, filling me with a warmth I didn’t know I’d needed.

There was one moment she was describing where I thought she was going to burst from happiness. Apparently she and Riley were sharing some fries, and—of course—they both reached for the same fry at the same time. Eye contact was made, blushes were shared, and Julie felt a rush that carried her through the rest of the evening.

She was still smiling when I dropped her off, even when her parents interrogated her right off the bat. As I drove back to David’s, that smile got stuck on my face, too.

We agreed to regroup and share information after the kids were home, and that’s exactly what we do once I show up at his door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Julie that happy,” I tell him, that smile still plastered on my face.

David answers it with a grin of his own. “Yeah, Riley’s so far up in the clouds I can barely see her. She’s upstairs, probably texting Julie right now.”

We talk for a little bit, setting up camp in David’s kitchen. He hands me a beer and we make plans for other scenarios we can set up without too much trouble. I know I’m skirting a fine line with Julie’s folks, but I just can’t pass up the opportunity to help her find happiness.

As the night wears on, I think David and I get a little punch drunk. Definitely not drunk drunk, since we only have one beer apiece. But we’re both still grinning like fools, talking over each other in our excitement.

Like an idiot, I decide to toss my beer into the recycling bin instead of just walking over there. Me, the guy without an athletic bone in his body. It hits the side of the bin, predictably, and then shatters on the kitchen floor.

“Shit.”

I rush to clean up my mess, but David’s years of experience give him a speed I just can’t match. The result is an awkward jousting of limbs as we both try to scoop up the bigger shards glass without cutting ourselves.

I choose then of all moments to look up, and David looks up too, his eyes meeting mine.

Something happens then. Some strange, chemical reaction that could’ve probably only occurred under these exact circumstances. I can feel myself being pulled toward him, and him being pulled toward me.

And then I feel a sharp, slicing pain in the heel of my palm. I draw in a hiss of breath, immediately catching David’s attention.

“Jesus, are you okay?”

He goes to grab several paper towels from a roll and proceeds to wrap them around my hand like they’re bandages. Blood seeps through three layers, stopping by the fourth, but he still grips my hand with firm pressure.

Our eyes meet again, and that same magic happens. I can feel a tingle arcing from my hand all the way to my chest where it kicks my heart into a frantic rhythm.

David’s the first to lean in, and something in me is utterly floored at that. I stand there like an idiot, and still he leans in. All the way until the distance between us is bridged and his lips brush mine.

It’s not a true kiss. Just kind of a lead-up to one. An exploration; a curiosity. My response is immediate, though, an ember smoldering deep inside of me. I press my lips back to his and my heart does a little flip when he gasps against my mouth.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he commits more of himself to the kiss. His eyes close and he tilts his head so that our mouths fit together. I close my own eyes, relying on the contours of his lips to guide me, my tongue tracing the edge of his bottom lip.

That kiss seems to last an eternity, building and building until I feel like it’s going to consume me. My whole body is blazing with desire, and I put my arm around his shoulders and pull him close just to ease that aching need for contact.

I know right away that it’s a step too far. He tenses immediately, drawing back from me like the heat of it has burned him. His eyes are wide, his lips parted, still red and wet from the kiss.

“I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m not…”

Bi? I brace for it, my fingers curling into my palm as my indignation starts to build. I should have known better. I should have—

“I’m not ready,” he says, his words little more than a whisper.

It’s a blow that hits me square in the heart, completely diffusing my anger and filling it with an aching awareness of what he’s going through.

Of what I’ve done.

He’s still grieving his wife. Maybe he’s moved past her death, but he’s not ready to enter into anything else. And here I am, practically pouncing on him.

Shame washes over me like a bitter tide, and I step back from him on shaky legs.

“I should… head home,” I manage, already retreating.

“Jake…”

I’m so disgusted with myself, so shocked that I let it get this far, I can’t even summon an apology before I throw myself out into the night.