I go to Gracie's Place on Wednesday night with every intention of holding my ground. And of eating a whole plate of brioche French toast, because that's one of the few breakfast dishes I haven't sampled yet.

Despite the temptation of egg-battered goodness, I'm reluctant to leave Riley alone. She's sixteen and definitely old enough to be at the house on her own for an hour or two, but it's still an exercise in paranoia management for me. My worries are vast and extensive, and I make a whole list of 'what ifs' during the drive that nearly make me turn around.

But I make it to Gracie's, and it's the smell of food that lures me in. Clearly, I am a simple man.

I pass Jake's truck in the parking lot, and he's already seated at a table by the time I walk through the doors. The hostess greets me and I head over to Jake's table, taking a seat on the opposite side.

"Hey, I wasn't sure you were going to show," he says. "I had some water brought for you, but I didn’t know if you'd want anything else just yet."

"Coffee," I say, as if it's five in the morning and I'm a shambling corpse of a man. "Definitely coffee."

Jake grins, his eyebrows lifting. "At six at night? You're a bolder man than me."

"Not bold. Just built up a tolerance to caffeine. Many, many years of training."

I pick up the menu as if I don't already know what I want. There's at least some benefit, though, in that I can admire the beautiful picture of four slices of French toast smothered in maple syrup.

"Doesn't look like that many years to me," Jake says, and I slowly look at him over my menu.

Is he…? No, he's just teasing. There's no way he's flirting with me. Nobody would flirt with the widower single dad who doesn't want to be flirted with. It's an unspoken rule.

But the sudden spark of realization and then the light flush in his cheeks makes me think he's questioning his words, too, and that makes me feel… weird. Like I should start talking about something, or find something to shove in my mouth.

Thankfully the waitress, Maura, saves me from having to do either of those things.

"Now, David, I told you if I saw you in here more than once a week, you were gonna have to start paying rent," she scolds me, a smile on her face the whole time. "What'll it be tonight, sugar? Pancakes and coffee again?"

I can't help but wonder if Gracie and Eric specifically put "must call customers 'sugar'" on their application, or if Maura is just made for this job.

"French toast, actually. I'm feeling adventurous today," I tell her, handing over my menu.

Jake snorts, but keeps his thoughts to himself as Maura asks for his order. "I'll take the patty melt, but uh… can you substitute a side salad for the fries?"

A knowing smile blossoms on her lips. "Brother giving you hell about eating better?"

"At least a few times a week. And I don't trust Eric not to snitch, so here we are."

Maura grins, taking Jake's menu, too. Her huge hoop earrings swing as she turns to leave, and I catch an amused glint in Jake's eyes when I look back at him.

"French toast instead of pancakes, huh? That must be adventurous in the 'slaying a dire rat' way, and not in the dragon sense."

"That's quite possibly the nerdiest thing I've ever heard another human being say," I tease, knowing it's not.

I've honestly probably beaten it dozens of times myself.

"Look, Shane and I never went to parties, so we spent a lot of time in our dorm room. DnD was a necessity just to get by."

I laugh at that, so unrestrained that it almost surprises me. It's been a while since I've given anything more than a polite chuckle.

"You too, huh?"

We talk about Dungeons & Dragons for a while—which is a conversation I never thought I'd be having with my kid's teacher—until Maura returns with the carafe of coffee. I pour a steaming cup, add enough cream and sugar to defeat the purpose of drinking coffee, and take a sip.

"So I guess we should probably talk about Riley," Jake says. Prudent observation, since we've been here twenty minutes or so and haven't actually broached the subject.

"Still not letting her try out for the football team," I counter.

Nailed it.

"Wow," he says, a smirk letting me know what's coming. "Did you rehearse that before you came here?"

"Maybe."

Jake laughs and shakes his head, taking a sip of his water. That warm feeling settles through me again as I realize how weirdly… easy this all is.

I've worked as a consultant for years now. Pretty much ever since Riley was born. Sometimes I meet up with clients, but usually I work from home, which means it's hard for me to meet people and make friends. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about her first week," he says, his tone changing back into what I can only describe as Teacher Mode.

Kind and patient, but with enough authority to make me sit up and pay attention.

"That bad, huh?"

The way his smile falters makes me realize I've probably said the wrong thing. Again. "I know you probably got used to only being contacted by a teacher when Riley was struggling, but I want to clear the air here and say that's not always going to be the subject of these meetings. Riley was on time for my class every day. She was attentive, took notes, did everything I asked of her. She did very well on her first homework assignment, too."

I let out a breath, feeling a little deflated. Even another sip of coffee doesn't help much.

"Sorry. You probably think I'm just sitting around, expecting to hear the worst about her."

He shakes his head. "I think you're a concerned dad who's a little lost when it comes to knowing how much he should worry about."

He's not wrong, and the fact that he gets it is both a relief and something that feels a little invasive. I don't know that I want anyone seeing how much I'm flailing.

"She is behind, though," he says, and I feel the stirrings of panic again. "It's not her fault. Different states have different requirements. But I don't want her to get to a place where she's going to struggle, so I think it would be beneficial for her to have a little extra help. Has she ever been tutored before?"

I laugh at that, knowing Jake probably thinks I'm crazy. "You know in those movies where the kids conspire to make adults look like complete idiots? That's what it's been like with Riley and tutors."

"I was thinking a student tutor," he says, and my mind instantly goes places I don't want it to go.

Some older boy who pretends to know about history just so he can get close to my daughter. No thanks.

God, I watch too many movies.

"Have someone in mind?" I force myself to ask.

Maura comes with our food, setting down two plates that both look great. Except for the side salad. Even Jake looks displeased by that. Undeterred by the presence of green things, I start loading up my French toast with syrup.

"You remember Julie from the ranch?"

I nod. She seemed like a sweet kid, and she went out of her way to help Riley. If that's who he's got in mind for tutoring, I'm not sure even I can say no.

"She's at the top of her class, and she absolutely loves history. She can be a little shy, but the way she worked with Riley on Saturday? I think she'd make a great tutor."

"I think you're right," I say, popping a piece of toast in my mouth.

So, so good.

"We can both talk to Riley about it, and I need to… check with Julie's parents. But if everyone's onboard, I can set it up as early as next week."

All of that sounds great, but my brain seizes on his pause and the odd change to his tone of voice as he mentioned Julie's parents.

"Her folks strict?" I ask after swallowing another bite.

"That's… an understatement." Jake takes a bite of his patty melt and closes his eye briefly. I can empathize. "They're deeply religious, and have what I guess you could call deeply traditional values. We've butted heads a few times in the past, when Julie was struggling."

"In school? I thought you said she was a good student?"

"Oh, her grades have always been good, but she has trouble making friends, and sometimes even relating to kids her age. They told me she's just shy, but it's more than that. I really hoped they'd at least ask their family physician for a recommendation or something, but they don't seem to believe in therapists or medication or anything that would actually help her, so…”

As I watch Jake talk, I'm pulled away from the good food and the cozy atmosphere and everything about this current moment. All I can see is the conviction in his eyes, all I can hear is how much he cares about his kids.

Easy enough to tell he's a good teacher, but it's clear he's a good man, too. The fact that he's willing to go to such lengths for his students eases a lot of my fears, almost instantly.

But then Jake seems to realize what he's said.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this. I'll get the tutoring sessions set up if I can. If not, we'll explore other avenues."

I just nod, a little disappointed he isn't going to continue. All of that is probably privileged information, though, so I just keep my disappointment to myself and search for a way to change the subject.

We talk a little about Glen Springs—specifically the pictures and clippings on the wall. By the time we're mostly finished with our plates, I see Eric coming out of the kitchen. There are bags under his eyes and his hair's a little matted with sweat, but he's smiling just the same.

"When Maura told me you two were here together, I didn't believe it. Had to witness this travesty with my own eyes."

Travesty? What?

"Oh, boy," Jake mutters. "Here we go."

I'm missing something. I know I am.

"First your brother shacks up with the Holler Troll, and now you're taking yourself off the market, too? You Morrison boys are killing me." Even as he says it, he nudges me and winks. "You've got good taste, though. I approve."

There's so much of that I don't understand that it takes me a minute to wrap my head around the words I do get: Off the market. And if he's saying Jake is off the market—and that I have good taste—he must think we're…

"Uh, no," I say quickly, tripping over my words. "We're not—I'm not. I was married. To a woman."

Jake—who's blushing again, so at least he isn't totally unaffected by this—gives me a look. Not an especially good look, either. It's the 'you fucked up' look I'm so used to getting from my kid when I open my mouth without really thinking about what I'm saying.

"Oh," Eric says, his brow furrowing. After a little shrug, his distress completely disappears. "Guess this means there's still a chance for me, then."

"Eric, you know you're my favorite Spatula Knight in the whole world, but you're like ten years younger than me. I moved here when you were a freshman in high school."

"A technicality," he says with another wink, then leaves us like his whole purpose in life is to sow chaos and walk away from the destruction.

"So," Jake begins, in a tone of voice I'm not particularly fond of. It's half mischief, half annoyance. "Do gay people make you uncomfortable? Because you and I are going to have a rough time with these meetings if that's the case, and that's not even mentioning the ranch."

"No!" I respond quickly, and a little too loudly. It's the absolute truth, but my nerves are making it sound anything but. "I'm just…" I'm in too deep now. Probably best to just be honest. "An awkward mess of a human being 99% of the time."

"Say things without thinking? Yeah, I noticed."

When I look up at him, his blue eyes are shining with mirth. Cheeky bastard. A part of me wants to flip him off, but I make the mature choice and just smirk instead.

"Sorry, man. I'm just messing with you. It's honestly kinda cute."

As I watch Jake's face, trying to figure out how the hell I should react to that, I see his eyes widen again and his cheeks flush. He suddenly becomes very, very interested in finishing his plate, and there's no way I can't think that he's a little prone to saying things without thinking, too.

"Uh, thanks," I manage, going back to my own meal.

That awkwardness settles over us like a dense fog, and I feel like I'm seconds away from falling on my face for the entire rest of our meal together. Eventually Jake speaks again, and we talk about the upcoming units he's going to be teaching and how I can help Riley at home.

But the whole time I'm saddled with this strange feeling that’s suspiciously like first-date jitters. It's crazy, and I know that can't actually be what I'm feeling. It colors the rest of our interactions, though, all the way to the point where he's walking me to my car.

I tell myself it's just a side effect of the situation. Eric made things a specific kind of awkward, and my awkward ass is just picking up on that and mirroring it.

But as I get into my car and head home, I'm not sure I fully believe that.