The whole way home, I just keep thinking about what this little fight or disagreement or whatever it is will mean for Jake and I.

Not that there's a Jake and I. There definitely isn't. He's Riley's teacher who's been kind enough to update me on her progress, and in return, I'm trying to help him get a good thing going for the rest of the kids at GSHS. Plus, I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider him a friend. It's something I've definitely needed, and I don't want to jeopardize that.

But he's reaching. Forget low-hanging fruit, Jake is trying to get at the apples only the giraffes can reach. Sure, Riley and I haven't talked about the inevitability of her dating—I've been sidestepping that conversation for a while now—but I know her. I'd know if she was gay.

It's not like I have a problem with it. I'm not going to be one of those fathers who sees his kid differently just because she likes girls. But I know she's straight. It's just… something I know, mostly because I can't fathom the idea of not knowing something so major about her.

As we drive back, though, I can't help but try to parse out why I know that. "I just do" isn't much of an answer, and it doesn't sit well with me. Even worse, I keep thinking about the fact that there are obviously people who go through life not knowing they're gay or bi or anything other than straight until much later in life. It's not like everybody figures it out the moment they hit puberty and start having those feelings.

But how could you not know? How could you not suspect, just a little bit? In wondering that, my mind instantly darts to that night at Jake's house and that dream. That damn dream I've tried so hard not to analyze.

I'm definitely not going to analyze it now. Getting out of the car, I turn all my attention to Riley.

"You hungry at all? I know we packed a little light. I can fix something if you want."

"Nah, I'm fine," she says, her voice quiet and distracted.

I realize then that she really hasn't said much since the ride. The paranoid side of me wonders if she heard my talk with Jake. Is she embarrassed? Questioning? Mad at me for even talking about it with her teacher? I just don't know, but I'm pretty sure I'm gunning for that Worst Dad award for not being able to figure it out.

"How do you feel about some Mario Kart? I've been dying to have my ass kicked on a whole new console," I say, and we both know I'm trying way too hard.

"I think I'm just gonna go lie down for a little while. I'm pretty tired."

Tired? I know teenagers sleep about as much of the day away as housecats, but my mind instantly leaps from "tired" to "fatigue," running down some list built up by too many late nights browsing WebMD. Depression? Cancer? Brain tumor? All of the above?

Sid would tell me to calm the hell down, and I try to do that now. "All right, well. If you need anything, you know where I'll be," I tell her, acting like that guy at the office who makes finger guns at his co-workers and thinks he's cool.

She heads for the stairs while I'm still trying to process everything. This quiet isn't like the typical broody teenager quiet. This is a quiet that feels deeper. Like she's trying to sort through something.

Wherever that intuition comes from, I cling to it. But I'm still surprised when she stops on the landing, the stairs creaking a little.

"Hey, Dad?"

I look up at her, and she's got this look on her face like she's twenty years older than she actually is. Creased brow, pursed lips. Something's really bugging her, and dread gnaws away at me as I jump to every kind of conclusion.

"What's up, kiddo?"

She looks away, her fingers curling around the banister. Whatever she's about to say, I can tell just the slightest wrong move on my part will send her fleeing, so I try not to speak, not to move, not to breathe.

"I think I might…" She blows out a breath. "I think I might like somebody. You know? But… I don't know."

I'm not going to play dense like my dad did when I confessed to liking somebody. There's no doubt in my mind that she means she has a crush. And I am so not ready to have this conversation, but I know if I act weird it's just going to make things worse. It isn't her job to make me comfortable, after all. It's my job to listen, no matter what.

"Why don't you come have a seat and we'll talk about it, okay?"

I head over to the couch and sit down, patting the cushion next to me with my heart in my hands and hope in my eyes. After a few moments, Riley comes down and sits beside me. She's wringing her hands in her lap, looking down at them instead of me, but I keep my mouth shut and just let her talk in her own time.

"Just… hypothetically speaking here," she begins, her voice shaking a little. God, she's really terrified about this. Have I been that hard to approach? "How would you feel if I…" She blows out another breath, then continues in a rush, "how would you feel if I liked a girl?"

The force of that question almost knocks me back. Almost. Because a part of me was expecting it, I realize. Ever since Jake brought it up, I've wondered if I could be wrong. If I don't know my daughter as well as I thought I did.

But what does that mean? What does it mean that I didn't see this coming? There's all these stories of parents confidently saying they knew their son or daughter was gay from an insanely young age. I always thought I'd be like that. One of the cool, accepting parents. Instead, I would've been all but blindsided if not for Jake's words.

"I mean I'm not saying I do or anything, so don't start freaking out on me."

Riley's trying so hard to play it down, to protect her feelings. It breaks my heart, and makes me realize I need to reassure her. That's all I need to be doing right now. I can deal with my own shit later.

"I'm not going to freak out," I tell her, managing to keep my voice calm. "It doesn't matter to me who you like, Riley. Girls, boys. Both, neither. I'll love you just the same either way. So long as you're happy, that's all that matters to me." I reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Okay?"

She's such a strong kid. She always tries so hard not to cry. I can see the tears welling in her eyes now, and I know better than to make a big deal of it. Even if it kills me that she's probably been shouldering this weight for a while.

"Okay," she says quietly, swiping at her eyes. "I really don't know if I am or not. Gay, I mean. Or lesbian. Or bi, I guess. I don't know."

"It's a lot to figure out," I admit, "and nobody's saying you have to figure it out right away. Just… go with whatever feels right to you. Whatever makes you happy. Everything else will sort itself out eventually."

She nods and sniffles and even though I know the answer to the question, I can't help but wonder who she's got a crush on. I guess I want to hear it for myself. Not because I need any more proof, but just because I want it to be there in my mind. Something concrete that I can process when I'm freaking out later.

Not over Riley being gay. Never over that. Just over the fact that I didn't know about it.

Riley, angel that she is, actually answers my prayers. "There's this girl. I guess… I mean, you've met her before, from the ranch. Julie." A blush colors Riley's cheeks and I try not to smile. "She's quiet. Shy. I think it takes a while for her to warm up to people. But she's just so… she's so smart. And funny. And creative. She listens to me, you know? Like, really listens."

"She sounds great," I tell her, unable to hide my smile.

I remember that feeling. That rush when you find somebody you really click with. The dread of wondering if they feel the same, and the absolute joy when you find out they do. I want all of that and more for Riley.

"She is," Riley says, a smile coaxed onto her features. "She's really great, Dad. I just wish more people could see that."

"You see it. I bet that counts for a lot."

"Maybe," she mumbles down at her hands. "I just wish I knew if she liked me, too. As more than a friend. I mean, there's a good chance she likes boys, right? Even if she's open to a thing with another girl, she might not like me that way. I wish… I wish there was a way to find out without…"

She struggles for words, and I finish the sentence for her. "Without having to put it all on the line?"

"Yeah, exactly." She lets out a groan and falls back against the cushions.

"I wish I could say that gets easier, but it never does."

"So what do I do?"

Panic claws at me. What do I know about giving potential dating advice to a teen girl who likes other girls? But I calm myself down and realize any advice is going to be more than she has right now. I might not have the perfect frame of reference, but I've got something to offer from my thirty-six years on this earth.

"You have to talk to her. 'Fraid there's no way around that, kid. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll take it okay no matter how she feels. But maybe she's struggling with the same thing you are, and you taking the leap will just bring everything together."

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Riley moans.

I laugh at that, looping an arm around her shoulders to give her a hug. "Yeah. Welcome to my life, circa 1997 or so."

She lets out a pained groan and covers her face with her hands. "I can't do it at school. It'd be too weird."

It would be too weird, and too public. If she's rejected, it'll be hard for her to pick her head up and walk away with a bunch of asshole kids looking on. It needs to be someplace safe.

"What about over a meal?" I ask, the idea forming in my head even as the words leave my mouth. "I could ask Gracie if we could set something up on a slow night. You and Julie could talk without anybody else bothering you."

I can see the caution in her eyes as she works through the idea. But once it clicks, there's an excitement that pushes the caution out of the way. "That could work."

"I'll talk to Gracie about it," I say, pushing myself off the couch.

Having something to focus on will help both of us, I think. At least if I can do something—if I can help somehow—I won't be stuck thinking about all of the signs I may or may not have missed, and what I should do to support Riley if she does start dating Julie.

Or worse, if she's rejected.

"Wait. Dad?"

Too fast. Dammit. I'm moving way too fast. She probably needs time to process things still. I shouldn't try to fix everything right away. I—

"Could you… come too? Not at the same table or anything. I'd just feel better if you were there."

That admission steals the breath right out of my lungs. But in a good way. In a really good way. I smile softly, and all I can manage is a nod, too afraid I'll start tearing up now if I let myself speak.

As I head out to the garage to pay our neighbor a visit, I already know this doesn't end with me telling Gracie. I have to talk to Jake, too. I could use his advice.

But honestly? I really, really owe him an apology, too.