The house was silent on a Sunday morning for a change. His dad had come home at some point in the night, so Kyle knew he wasn’t alone, but his usual weekend morning wake-up call, in the form of his daughter asking for pancakes and cartoons, was notably absent. As Kyle spread his arms across his bed, he felt no guilt at the knowledge that Caroline had woken up someone else at the crack of dawn for a change. He smiled, feeling a tightness to his face that was new. He rubbed at the skin around his lips; it felt burnt, and Kyle wondered how long it had been since he’d woken up with beard burn. He sighed and slid a hand under the elastic of his boxers as the memory of Adam’s mouth against his skin woke his cock up like a bomb had gone off.
“I can’t.”
Adam’s quiet voice filled his ears, and with that, Kyle’s little good morning party was over. He groaned, and buried his head under his pillow.
Last night had been a complete disaster. His whole talk-to-Adam plan, followed by his get-in-Adam’s-pants nonplan, had failed in ways Kyle had to be impressed with. The wild look on Adam’s face as he’d bolted for the door made Kyle want to dig a hole through the mattress, crawl into it, and never get up again.
His phone buzzed and he reached for it, then put it back down when he saw it was Shannon. It was too early for him to be officially on the clock. He sighed and dragged himself out of bed.
While the shower heated up, Kyle examined his face in the bathroom mirror. His skin still felt sensitive, but there was no redness around his mouth.
There was, however, an epic hickey along his collarbone.
“Holy hell.” The hickey was an angry purple that stood out against his skin. Pain radiated out from under his finger when he poked at it, but that only made him wince and jab at the hickey a couple more times. He wanted the pain to grind into his subconscious as a permanent reminder why macking on his daughter’s teacher was a colossally stupid idea.
In reality though, the pain made him angry.
There had been two consenting adults involved the previous night, and one of them, not Kyle, had decided the best course of action was to get all mouthy like a horny sophomore. Kyle had never been a fan of hickeys, had never seen the point of them. Adam’s mouth had almost been worth it, but . . . Kyle poked at the mark again. Each stab made him angrier that Adam could have waltzed out of the house without so much as an I’ll call you later, and now Kyle was having high school flashbacks in the same bathroom where he had discovered masturbation at twelve.
Kyle stalked back to his bedroom to grab his phone. He stood in front of the mirror above the dresser, aimed the camera while he pointed at the mark with his free hand, and scowled. The camera snapped. He attached the picture to a text, which he sent to Adam with a message.
fuck you very much, Mr. hathaway.
He headed back to the shower, just as his father came out of his bedroom.
“Dad! Hey! I thought you’d still be asleep.”
His dad grunted, eyes only half-open, and scratched at his chest through his T-shirt. The motion made Kyle painfully aware his own T-shirt was still in the bathroom, and that his chest and the mark Adam had left there were exposed. He managed to keep himself from slapping his free hand over it, because that wouldn’t be obvious at all, and instead dropped his chin. He muttered another hurried good morning and rushed to the bathroom.
Later, fully dressed, Kyle came into the kitchen to find his father sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in one hand, glasses perched on his nose as he read the newspaper. For all it was still weird to live here in his dad’s house again, some things, like the familiar sight of his dad’s Sunday morning ritual, were always comforting.
“Morning.” Kyle shuffled to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.
“Good morning,” his dad said from behind his paper. Kyle smeared a couple slices of toast with the chocolate-hazelnut spread that he had to guard and mete out by the teaspoon to Caroline when she was home. Experience had taught him that she would eat the stuff by the handful. The most recent incident had ended in a bath for Caroline, a shower for Kyle, a lot of howling and tears—Caroline’s, not his—and two buckets of hot mop water for the kitchen, not long after they had first come back to Red Creek.
Kyle took a seat and forced himself to be casual. He’d picked up after Adam had left the previous night. He had hung Caroline’s jacket in the closet, and stuffed his own come-crusted pants in the wash along with the rest of the week’s dirty laundry. He’d tried not to think about the times his teenage self had done the same thing to hide clothes that smelled like beer, pot, or whatever, from his dad. This was different. He’d grown up since then. Obviously.
“How was the barbecue?” his father asked.
“Fine.” Kyle took the sports section of the newspaper. “Good. Caroline had a good time. They had a pool. We got to practice her swimming. She was pretty fearless.”
“Did you leave her there?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s after seven and it’s quiet in the house, so I assume she’s somewhere else.”
“Oh! No, she wanted to have a sleepover with Haley, and Ben and Kirsten were okay with that so she stayed there. I have to go pick her up around ten.”
“It’s nice that she has friends in town.” His dad turned a page of his paper. His tone implied that he felt Kyle should follow her example, which made Kyle think of the semi-disastrous but well-intentioned attempt at a grown-up playdate in the form of basketball that Ben and his dad had tried to arrange.
Had it really been a disaster if it meant that Kyle had gotten to see Adam as more than Mr. Hathaway? Even if Adam had been an utter asshole for most of it? Kyle made a mental note to downgrade that event from semi-disastrous to moderately embarrassing.
“Rebecca introduced me to a bunch of the business owners downtown,” he said, because dwelling on Adam would get him nowhere.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Yeah. Nice people. They have good ideas. I think Rebecca’s going to set up a meeting with them to talk about coordinating an event in the fall.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. Yeah it is. It’s good. Good to meet new people. Right?” He scanned the page for the baseball scores. The kitchen fell into an easy silence, punctuated by the sound of paper swishing and the occasional crunch of toast in Kyle’s teeth.
“Is one of those new people responsible for the thing on your neck?”
Kyle coughed on inhaled crumbs. Tiny toast fragments scraped his throat like glass.
“What?” His hand crept up to his collarbone then, still trying to maintain his casual facade, slid farther up to his neck. “There’s nothing on my neck?” Was there? Had Adam left another mark? He would have noticed, wouldn’t he? Kyle wanted to reach for his phone and double-check the picture he’d sent Adam, but didn’t know how to do it without creating a whole new set of uncomfortable questions for his dad.
“I believe there’s a hickey the size of Canada underneath your shirt.” His father was still hidden behind the newspaper, but the way the edges of the paper fluttered told Kyle that his dad was working hard to smother laughter.
“Nice, Dad! That’s so mature.” The indignant card was his only option.
His father howled at that. He lowered his paper and leaned back in his chair. “Mature? I’m not the one taking long showers and showing off hickeys the size of—”
“Canada, I know, Dad. Thanks.”
“It’s like having a teenager all over again.” He was still laughing.
Kyle huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “When did I ever come home with a hickey as a teenager?”
“Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying, I’m sure.” His dad set the paper down. “You were a late bloomer, Kyle. It always took the girls a little while longer to appreciate the Fenton charm.” He let out another wheezing laugh. Kyle watched his dad and waited for the fatherly advice to start.
Instead, his father got up and poured himself another coffee.
Kyle frowned. “Wait. So you’re okay with this?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then what—?”
“I’m trying my best to deal with this situation.” His father sighed.
Oh.
There it was.
That’s where this was going.
The Sigh. The paternal tone of disapproval that he made whenever Kyle tried to cook a meal that contained more vegetables than meat. The same sound his father had made when Kyle had told him over spring break of senior year in college that he thought he was going to stay in Seattle and try to find a job there. And the same one he had made when Kyle had called to say that Olivia was pregnant and they were going to get an apartment together and try to make a family work. Kyle hated that sigh, because the lecture that followed was always well reasoned and thought out and sometimes even right.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?”
“Dad, it’s nothing.”
“But, Kyle, it hasn’t been a year.”
Kyle ignored the guilt that crept through his insides. He knew how long it had been. He hated that his father was keeping a tally too.
“It’s not serious, Dad. It’s not anything. I don’t think I’ll be seeing Mr.—” Kyle caught himself before he said Adam’s name, but he saw his father’s eyebrows go up.
“Mr.?”
Kyle grimaced. His father knew about Kyle’s preferences, or lack thereof, really. He had been surprisingly supportive when Kyle had come home at fifteen and said he needed to quit the after-school volleyball team his dad had signed him up for, because he had a crush on one of his teammates and hadn’t been able to hide an awkward boner in the shower that afternoon.
“Yes, Dad.” He sighed. “Canada was put there by a mister. Now can we drop it?”
“This was someone you met at the barbecue yesterday? Someone you’re going to be working with?”
“I don’t think I’ll be working with him.” He was suddenly very glad school would be out in another few weeks. There wouldn’t be too many more occasions where he’d need to avoid Adam at the pick-up area. He wondered if there was a way to get his dad, or maybe Ben, to help with that, maybe cut back on the number of days he had to go to the school, without having to answer too many awkward questions.
“Because you . . .?”
“What?”
“You won’t be working with him because of . . .” His father’s eyes searched the room, then he said, “Canada?”
“What? No! Jesus, Dad!” He pushed back from the table to collect his empty mug and half-finished toast. “I didn’t make out with a potential client!” This was humiliating. This was worse than the time his dad had found a wrinkled Playboy under Kyle’s mattress.
“I don’t know what to think. You said you met some new people at the barbecue and—”
“And what? I tried to sleep my way into a contract?” He dumped his empty dishes into the sink with a crash.
“No, but you said Mr.—”
“Mr. Hathaway, Dad. All right?” Kyle ran his fingers through his still damp hair.
“Mr. Hathaway?”
“Yes, Dad. Adam Hathaway. Caroline’s teacher. Mr. Hathaway put Cana—” He bit his tongue. “Adam came by and—” That wasn’t any better. “You know what, Dad? It doesn’t matter what he did, because he won’t be doing it again.”
“Does Adam know about Olivia?”
Kyle’s protest died in his throat. His cheeks flamed, and his fingers started to shake.
“Yes, but—”
“And he isn’t worried that you might be rushing this?”
Annoyance curled in Kyle’s gut, a particular flavor of irritation he’d spent a lot of his teenage years nurturing around his dad.
“It’s not serious,” Kyle said again as he sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s not anything.” It was a feeble excuse, but it was the truth. Whatever was going on with Adam—and up until that point, it had only been some frantic kissing in the car and a handjob in the hall, followed by a hasty exit, stage left—was unclear, certainly not defined enough to plan around.
“Not serious? How do you know? Things get serious for you pretty quickly sometimes. If I’m remembering correctly, the last person you were seriously involved with, I’d never heard of until you called to say I was going to be a grandfather.”
Kyle froze. They almost never talked about this. The anxiety he’d felt that day was etched inside of him. The silence over the phone after Kyle had finished his carefully rehearsed speech would forever be the longest of his life.
Olivia’s absence ached in Kyle’s chest. His throat tightened, and tears welled in his eyes.
“Well, it’s not my fault we’re having this conversation, now is it? Not my fault that I’m on my own.” Sometimes his life with Olivia felt like a blip, like a flicker of the TV during a storm, before the picture righted again and continued on like nothing had happened. “It’s not my fault.” His throat was so tight he could barely get the words out.
He knew it wasn’t his fault. But there were moments, daily moments, when he thought of her, thought of what she’d do in a certain circumstance, or how she’d laugh at Caroline’s latest princess story, and he missed her so much, felt so guilty that he got to hear those stories and Olivia never would.
His dad deflated. “I worry, that’s all. You always jump in with both feet, and you don’t always look before you do. Whether it’s Seattle, or Olivia, or being a father. You jump. And most of the time you succeed. And when you don’t, you shake yourself off and look for the next ledge to jump from.” His eyes crinkled with affection, forming new lines, and Kyle wondered again when his father had gotten so much older. Those smile lines around his eyes were new.
“Dad—”
“But you can’t do that. Not with Caroline.”
Sadness evaporated into anger again. “You think I don’t know that?”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, Dad, but I’m not a kid. I’m somebody’s parent. I’m Caroline’s parent, and I have been for six years. I know what I’m doing!”
He wanted to get out of the kitchen. Maybe go back to bed. Or go for a drive. He did not want to have this conversation. Why were they having this conversation? Right. Because Kyle had been too stupid to remember to put a shirt on.
“Kyle—”
“Dad, it’s nothing. Nothing for you to worry about.” He turned and headed toward the hall. His father followed, making the skin on the back of Kyle’s neck prickle.
“You called me,” his father said, “three months ago, after months of telling me not to worry and said—”
Kyle spun to face him.
“That I needed help, Dad! Help! Someone to help my family when a third of it had been taken away from us.” The hall echoed with his words, and then the house fell silent.
“I’m your family.” His dad’s voice was small.
Kyle’s anger melted as fast as it had flared up. He stepped forward into the space between them and wrapped his arms around his dad’s shoulders. His dad stiffened, but Kyle closed his eyes and waited until his dad relaxed and brought his hands up to Kyle’s shoulders, patting awkwardly.
“I know, Dad. I know. And I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” His father’s hands squeezed a little at that. “But it was seven years—”
“Eleven years,”
Kyle never counted the years at college in the years he’d been away, but apparently his dad did.
“Eleven years,” he said, “and in that time I went to school, graduated, never got arrested, started a career, had an amazing child, and made a pretty good life for myself with someone incredibly smart and funny and brave. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know.”
“So don’t worry. I know how to take care of myself. In all those years, I always wore a condom. It’s not my fault they didn’t always work,” Kyle added, when his dad raised an eyebrow. “And only once did I make myself sick eating food that should have gone in the trash a week earlier. So I think you can trust my decision-making skills.”
His father laughed at that.
“That’s it?” he said. “That’s your argument for why I shouldn’t worry about you dating your daughter’s teacher?”
“Pretty much,” Kyle said. “If you need a second sample for the sake of comparison and statistics, I can get Ben to call you when I go pick up Caroline in a bit. I know for a fact that it took at least until he married Kirsten for him to realize that cutting the green bits off the end of a hot dog isn’t always enough.”
“Okay, okay.” His father wrinkled his nose and waved Kyle off. His face grew serious, lines forming around his mouth. “Be careful. All right? If this ends badly, I don’t want you packing up my only granddaughter and moving across the country again, so you don’t have to see your ex . . . whatever at the farmer’s market.”
That was the issue, wasn’t it? None of this had been about Kyle’s love life. He’d spent the last six years thinking of himself and Olivia and Caroline as a unit, and then it had been only him and Caroline. He hadn’t considered how his dad fit on their team now.
“I’m your family.”
It had been easy to forget that in Seattle sometimes, amid the crazy pace of parties and fundraisers, during the sleepless nights when it had felt like Kyle’s life was no bigger than the dark circles under Olivia’s eyes and the screaming infant who never slept. It had been easier to think of his dad as part of another life, someone far away who had played a role in a different time and place. And, it seemed, reintegration into that place was still incomplete.
“Sure thing, Dad.” Kyle hoped he was telling the truth.