Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With a roll of his eyes Clay picks up his phone that had started vibrating impatiently on the coffee table next to where he placed his socked feet, playing a video game and trying to hold his eyes open. His brother’s name flashed up on the screen, and Clay huffs, then swipes at the screen to answer. “It had better be important. It’s after ten.”

On the other end he can hear Justin suppress a laugh. He makes that little sort of snorting sound, and Clay has suspected for the longest time that he is doing it on purpose — a little provocation between brothers. But Clay has long since stopped letting it get to him.

“Sorry, man,” Justin finally apologizes. “I keep forgetting how uptight you are about bedtime.”

“I’m exhausted,” Clay grumbles. “I have kids, in case you don’t remember.”

“And a wife to share the responsibility with,” Justin reminds him.

Clay sighs. “Yes, but Hannah has been working a lot lately. She’s even more exhausted than I am.”

“So educate your kids, so they don’t exhaust you this much,“ Justin suggests casually.

Clay shakes his head, not quite sure what to say, especially when it was actually his brother who exhausted their parents the most when they were both kids. Clay knows his brother never meant to nor was it ever really his fault, but he was a challenge in more than one way.

But Clay isn’t in the mood for a discussion about that right now. Instead he opens his mouth to lecture his brother on how dumb his comment was, but before he gets to say anything, Justin laughs and says, “I’m just kidding, no need to get all worked up. I know it’s difficult.”

Shaking his head to himself Clay scoffs, wondering how come he feels triggered.

But the truth is, Justin has no idea how difficult it really is to take care of two little human beings, let alone two boys with an age gap of only a year and a half — despite all the hours he had spent being the babysitting uncle or taking the boys to the park to play basketball.

Day to day life is different.

It’s like playing Lemmings, really — just in the real world. With actual consequences that may threaten your children’s lives the very minute you dare to look the other way.

Mateo and Oliver love their uncle, but at the end of the day they will come back home to Clay and Hannah and that’s where they take out all the frustration on the things that had gone wrong that day.

“You’ll only really know once you have kids of your own,” Clay grumbles, his tone making it clear that he doesn’t want to discuss it anymore. “Anyway, what do I owe this late call to?”

Justin lets a few seconds pass before answering. Clay knows that whatever his brother is about to say probably won’t sit well. Or at the very least cause trouble in one way or another.

“I was going to ask you if I could drop by.”

Clay blinks. “What? When?”

There is another brief hesitation, then Justin clears his throat. “Would now be too spontaneous?”

Clay squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. “Why am I not surprised?” he mutters more to himself. Then he says, a little louder, “well, since I know that you won’t take no as an answer ... what am I s‘posed to say? You‘d have to sleep in the outhouse, though.“ He pauses, then adds, “you know where everything is, right?”

On the other end of the line Justin chuckles. “Yeah. Thanks, bro, you’re a lifesaver — and sorry for the short notice.”

“How come you’re dropping by this late anyway?” Clay wonders. There is no answer for a full ten seconds and Clay can tell by the feeling in his own stomach, that it’s probably not good news he is about to hear. “Justin?”

He heaves a deep sigh, right into Clay’s ear over the phone, and replies quietly, “Mom called me today. It’s about Sam. She passed away, and the service is this weekend. Mom asked me if I wanted to go. I hadn’t decided until now — but I do want to go.“

“Oh Jesus.” Clay swallows against a lump in his throat. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Justin.”

“Yeah, she wasn’t that young anymore.” Justin’s voice sounds calm, but Clay knows it’s a mask. Whatever Justin feels about the passing of the woman who had changed his life for the better all those years ago, he’s not ready to share that yet. “She wasn’t even young when she placed me in foster care with you guys,” he says. “And that was more than twenty years ago.”

Clay nods quietly to himself. “Yeah, I know. But still, she’ll be missed.”

Clay himself has very vague memories of Samantha Miller. He hasn’t had that many interactions with the social worker who once brought Justin into their family when he was five years old. But he knows how important she was for his brother.

“I’m sorry, Justin,” he repeats.

“It’s okay. I just … I also have appointments scheduled with a few clients in the area on Monday, so I thought I might stay all weekend if that’s okay. It’s all a bit sudden … I know. I just couldn’t make my mind up about the funeral and then I couldn’t get myself to call you —“

“No worries. Hannah’s probably not going to be thrilled — you know she doesn’t like these last minute decisions — but you’re welcome to stay.”

Clay can practically hear Justin smile when he responds, “I could entertain the boys for a bit, so the two of you’ll have a little extra time on your hands.”

“Sounds good,” Clay says. “They’re driving me nuts.”

“I’ll make sure they’re tired out by tomorrow evening,” Justin promises. He clears his throat, ready to end the conversation. “It’s the least I can do. Keys to the outhouse still where they always are?”

“Yup.”

“Great. See you in the morning.”

Clay sighs and puts the PlayStation controller to the side, ready to settle down for bed. “Yup. I guess we will.”

—

Lainie Jensen unlocks the door to her small two story apartment to let herself in, calling for her husband as she toes off her shoes. A few seconds later he comes down the stairs, still in his striped pyjamas.

“You were up early,” he exclaims, kissing her cheek. “Have you been out for a walk?”

Lainie nods, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah.” She hesitates a moment, trying to figure out if now was a good time to propose what she had been thinking about while she was on her morning walk. “I’m feeling too old to go for a run. But walking around on my own I feel weird,“ she finally starts.

Matt chuckles. “I’m sure there are walking groups for elderly people that you could join.”

The thought makes Lainie frown. “I’m not that old. No, hear me out. How about we get a dog?”

“Aren’t we too old for that?” Matt asks, raising a brow. “Poor thing might even outlive us.”

Lainie scoffs, shaking her head. “Matt, we’re sixty. We have still got a lot of living to do. Or so I shall hope. I mean, we’re not even retired yet.”

“So going to you’re taking your dog to the office with you? Or to court? Because I sure can’t take it to school with me,” Matt rolls his eyes, then he sighs. “I’ll think about it.”

He’s not on board, it’s obvious. Lainie wasn’t expecting him to be, not instantly. But having been with him for nearly forty years, she knows that he is going to warm up to the idea. At least, she‘s going to give it another try.

After a long shower Lainie comes into the kitchen to find Matt at the table, reading the news on his tablet. There are three places set and Lainie raises her brows. “Are we having company this morning?”

Matt looks up and smiles. “Yes, Justin called a minute ago and asked if he could join us for breakfast. He said he probably overstayed his welcome with Clay and Hannah.”

Lainie raises her brows, helping herself to a cup of coffee. “I thought that he just arrived Friday night. It’s Sunday morning.”

Matt shrugs. “Hannah wanted breakfast with the immediate family only, it seems. He didn’t specify on the reason, but since the two of you were going to the funeral together later I guess he thought —“

“Either way, it’s going to be lovely to have him over for breakfast,” Lainie replies. “Are you going to make pancakes?”

The chances to spend a bit of time with her grown up son were far and few between since he moved away from Evergreen after college. It is only a two hour ride, but with the busy lifestyle he has, constantly on the go, never slowing down, getting him into her apartment and sitting down for breakfast feels like winning the lottery.

Matt smirks. “Justin suggested that he was going to make them. He said that we should just sit and let him do the work.”

“Well, that sounds tempting,” Lainie laughs.

Matt casts a look at his watch. “Should be here any minute.”

As if on cue Lainie sees her son’s car pull up outside and a moment later he’s walking up the steps to their front door. He sees her looking out the window and with a cheeky grin he offers her a salute. He used to do that a lot when he was a kid, winding her up, knowing that she didn’t like it, but this morning it feels like the most precious thing in the world, having him do that.

With a frown, she notes that he is wearing black, but the sweater he chose is not the kind of outfit Lainie would have picked for a funeral.

She opens the door with a head shake and gives her son a quick look over before accepting a hug.

“Good to see you, kiddo,” Matt says, lightening up when Justin and Lainie come into the kitchen. 

Forty minutes later Lainie is stuffed with pancakes and dressed for the day’s challenges. After a brief consideration she decides to suggest that Justin borrow a shirt, tie and suit jacket from Matt to upgrade to his casual outfit.

He snorts in response, glancing at Matt. “No offense, Dad, but I don’t think your jacket would fit.” Then he turns towards Lainie again. “Anyway, it’s Sam, Mom. She was never about clothes or anything shallow like that. She would want people to feel comfortable, not dressed up. Besides, I’m wearing all black.”

“Yeah,” Lainie sighs, giving him a sideways glance. He’s right, Matt’s jacket or shirt wouldn’t fit him, too tight around his shoulders and probably also too short in the arms, making him feel uncomfortable. “You’re right. Let’s go, then.“

They take his car, leaving it up to Matt to clean up the kitchen so they can make it in time for the service.

While he is keeping his eyes firmly on the road, Lainie studies her son from the side. “How’re you feeling about her passing, sweetheart?” she asks quietly.

“I’m sad,” he admits, quietly, finally letting go of his earlier more cheerful demeanor like she expected he would once it was just the two of them. “The world was a better place when she was in it.”

“I agree.” She touches his arm. “But her good deeds outlived her and they will never be forgotten.”

Justin looks over, a half-smirk on his face. “You know, she wasn’t Jesus, though.”

Lainie laughs. “No, but it sure feels like she was to me.” She swallows, pushing back emotions she doesn’t want to handle right now. “She brought you into our life.”

“And you guys into mine,” he agrees, nodding. “You’re right, Mom. She wasn’t Jesus, but in a way, she was the next best thing.”

They aren’t a religious family. Lainie herself grew up in a Christian household but never practiced religion once she moved out of her childhood home, whereas her husband had a more secular upbringing. And still, hearing the words in the church that day, dedicated to Samantha and her life accomplishments, feels comforting to Lainie.

Once they are on the way back to the car Justin suddenly grabs Lainie’s arm. “Mom, could you go ahead without me?“ He sends her an almost shy look. “I would like to pay a little visit to Amber‘s place.” He hands her his keys.

Lainie blinks in surprise. “Sure,” she says. “Yeah, okay.” She squeezes his arm. “Sure you don’t want me to join you?”

“I’d rather go alone,” he replies. “I’ll walk home.”

“It’s not around the corner.”

Justin shrugs. “Ah well, I guess, Clay and Hannah won’t mind me being back late.” He says it casually but Lainie knows that it hurts him more than he is letting on that he isn’t unconditionally welcome at his brother’s house.

It’s not Clay, though. It’s his wife. She and Justin never fully warmed up to each other, and it isn’t her fault. There is just a bit of baggage there, and most of that was caused by Justin, to be honest — starting with his mistake back in high school — with the unsolicited picture of Hannah he took that later made its way round school, causing rumors and a lot of bullying.

And a few years later he was almost a no-show at Clay’s and Hannah’s wedding for health reasons, preoccupying Clay for days before the final day. And although Lainie knows her adopted son didn’t plan to cause anyone harm, he still did cause that harm, and it didn’t help much that he took responsibility after the damage was done.

And while Clay could be very unforgiving, his brother was always a weak spot whom he would have let get away with anything — much to Hannah’s dismay.

Lainie watches her son stroll down the path, between tombstones and crosses, headed towards the small grave that the family once had built for his deceased biological mother. He has his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped, and part of Lainie wants to go after him and comfort him but she knows it’s better to give him a little space.

So she drives home.

—

When Justin leaves the outhouse in his brother’s backyard on Monday morning things are a little hectic. He’s almost late for his first appointment and he had planned to leave without too big of a goodbye, but he is about to get into the car when the door of the main house opens and the voice of a six year old squeals, “Uncle Justin, wait.”

Mateo is coming out of the house, wearing only one shoe and no socks. “Are you coming back tonight?” he asks, sceptically eyeing the fully packed duffel bag hanging from his uncle’s shoulder.

Bending down for a hug, Justin replies, “no, buddy. Not today. But next month is Ollie’s birthday so I’ll be over then. Alright?”

Mateo looks disappointed but nods. Justin smiles at him. The boy looks so much like his father at that age, it’s astonishing, he contemplates. Unlike Oliver, his little brother, who looks half Clay and half Hannah.

A knock on the kitchen window claims the attention of both of them and a moment later Hannah appears in the doorway. “You’re coming straight back in, young man,” she chastises. “You’re not even dressed, yet. It’s cold.”

Mateo shakes his head. “No,” he says defiantly.

But Hannah is not having it and finally Mateo slips out of Justin’s arms and trots back into the house. Justin offers Hannah a shrug and she smiles back. “Drive safe,” she says.

After the door closes behind her he gets into his car and, out of habit, pulls out his phone. One missed call. He frowns. The number seems vaguely familiar, but it can’t be one of his clients. He has all of their numbers saved.

So he swipes to unlock the screen and presses the button to call back.

“Thank god, Justin,” says a female voice on the other end. “Thanks for calling me back.”

He blinks in surprise. “Tamara?”

“Yes.” She pauses. “You gave me your number last time we met, remember?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I remember.” Once the phone connects with the car audio he pulls onto the street. “You doing okay?”

“No,” Tamara says quietly. “Actually I’m not.” She hesitates again. Then, “can we meet?”

—

Tension is high in the Jensen household. It’s Tuesday morning, Clay is sipping his morning coffee and the boys are sitting at the table, eating their cereal. Milk pools around Oliver’s bowl, dropping off his spoon every time his clumsy little hand moves it all the way up to his mouth. Mateo is stirring his own portion, waiting for it to melt with the milk into the soggy mass he likes to eat. The look of it makes Clay queasy.

Hannah’s late again. But finally she comes into the kitchen, not quite ready, her blouse untucked, wearing only one earring while the other is dangling from between her lips.

She is stressed.

It’s the typical morning chaos — for the longest time the boys couldn’t decide what to put on and in the end they had to let Oliver wear the stained shirt he had worn several days in a row now, and Mateo chose the one that had a large cut under the arm. It was either that or having the storm of their frustration blowing through the house and adding to the already tense mood. It would have been the end of their plan to be anywhere near being in time for work.

“Did you remember to order the cake for Ollie’s party?” Hannah asks, her voice strained, rushing through the kitchen with her hair still held up by her hand. She has a smudge of mascara underneath her left eye.

When she bends forward to kiss Clay, he reaches out and wipes it off with his thumb. “Yes, I ordered everything we need, babe,” he promises. “My mom’s also bringing some stuff and dad’s going to cook for a whole battalion. It’s going to be a great party.”

Nearly five year old Oliver looks back and forth between his parents with big eyes. “Mommy, are grandma Liv and Grandpa Andy coming, too?”

Hannah hesitates, avoiding Clay’s eyes. Talking about her parents still is a delicate thing, even though it’s been nearly a decade since they separated. “Honey, your grandma will be there, of course. She won’t miss your birthday party for the world. But … um, I haven’t spoken to your grandpa in a while.”

Clay knows it’s a lie. They had both spoken to Hannah’s dad just a few days ago, who’s still on his hiking tour around Yosemite National Park with no intention to return in time for the party.

“I worked hard to be able to take the time off and go on this trip, love,” he had told Hannah and Clay after a half-hearted apology. “I can’t just cancel the second half of it.”

“Jesus, Dad, you know that it’s Oliver’s birthday in early February.” Hannah was so frustrated with her father she was actually fighting tears. “Why couldn’t you take that into account before you booked?”

They discussed it a while back and forth, but there was no change of plans and so Hannah let it go.

Oliver doesn’t seem too bothered, and, as hard as it sounds, Clay can’t say he is surprised. His father-in-law‘s interest in his grandchildren is, for lack of a better word, mediocre, and — in return — so is Ollie's and Matteo‘s interest in their mother’s father. Instead they adore their grandfather Matt — he is possibly their favorite grandparent.

After a very quick breakfast between doing her hair and putting finishing touches on her outfit Hannah kisses both of her sons on the head before heading out of the kitchen. With a frown Clay follows her, watching with his arms crossed as she shrugs into her coat and shoves her feet into her boots. “You’re picking the boys up, right?” he says. “Because I have to go into the office today, remember?”

“Ah, shit, no. I forgot.” Hannah sighs. “Do you really have to go?”

“My boss scheduled the meeting last week and I told you right away,” Clay points out. “I can’t miss it.”

Hannah regards him thoughtfully, her head tilted slightly, then she huffs. “Yeah, I remember. But, Clay, I have a deadline at the end of this week —“

That’s what she says. What she means is, I’m the one who is making the money here.

And it’s true and although Clay doesn’t usually mind, moments like this he feels she doesn’t really take his ambitions seriously at all, and that hurts sometimes. But he has to admit that she is the one who supports the family most, financially.

So after a bit of hesitation Clay agrees with her plans, as he does in most cases. “Okay, fine, I’ll try to reschedule. Or maybe my dad can jump in again.”

“Yeah, go ahead and ask him,” Hannah nods, bending forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Catch you later.” And with that she is out the door.

—

Truth be told, Matt had thought about retirement a few times but at sixty it’s probably not yet an option. It’s getting stressful, though, driving all that way out to the college and back, and even though some of the classes are remote these days, it’s been a drag, especially these past few months.

Winter hasn’t been cold, and yet, there has been that constant infection, lurking somewhere inside him. It broke out a few times, sometimes bad enough to tie him to his bed for a few days, fevers at night and days spent freezing in front of the television. It got better, but it never stopped.

With a cough, scratching at his sore throat, Matt picks up his care keys and his laptop. “I’m leaving,” he calls, and Lainie’s voice echoes back a moment later.

“Hold on.” She comes out of the bathroom, towel on her head, kissing him. “Bye, have a good day.”

Matt smiles a little sourly and grabs his coat.

He can feel his wife’s eyes boring into his back as he walks out the door.

Lainie rarely goes into the office these days. Over the years she has worked herself into the comfortable position where she can be picky about her cases and work mostly from home, unless she has to be in court. Most of the work is done by the younger attorneys, anyway.

Less work, more money. Matt wishes he could say the same for himself.

Instead he sits in his car, feeling achy.

Maybe he should make an appointment with the doctor he decides, as he pulls into the parking lot at Monet’s to pick up his favorite buttered bagel for later. Lainie had been nagging for him to get checked out long enough now. He scrolls through his phone contacts until he find the number of his physician’s office.

The young woman on the other side of the line is kind and offers him a slot just a few days from now. With a sigh Matt agrees, types it into his calendar app and forgets about it.

Then he gets back onto the phone and calls back Clay who had reached out the night before.

“Hey Dad." His son sounds exhausted.

“Is everything alright?”

Clay huffs. “Hannah and I argued. Again. I can’t rely on her when it comes to the boys. She keeps putting herself first.”

Matt smirks. “Oh dear. I guess telling you that there were times when I felt just like that about you boys and your mom won’t help —“

“Not so much.”

“It’s probably just a phase. She just started that job, still in the process of proving herself —“

“It’s been two years.”

Matt chuckles. “She was at home with the boys until Oliver was almost three. Now she wants to put her career first for a little while. That should be reason enough for you to have her back.”

“I have her back,” Clay says gloomily. “But sometimes I need her to have my back.”

“She’s had your back for a few years.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Clay admits, exhaling deeply. “Anyway, Dad. I wasn’t going to talk this through right now. I just wanted to make sure that you were aware of what we need for Ollie’s birthday party next week.”

Matt frowns, as in front of him traffic comes to a halt. Drumming his thumbs on the wheel he hits the brake pedal. “Everything’s under control, kiddo,” he promises, “it’s going to be the best fifth birthday party that Evergreen’s ever seen.”

Clay chuckles. “Well, that’s good news.”

—

Tamara enters the diner looking uncharacteristically timid. She is wearing her thick blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and her face is half covered by a grey baseball cap, as she keeps her head low.

Justin lifts a hand for a tentative wave but she had clearly already seen him upon entering because she crosses the room with a few strides straight towards him without looking up.

He gets to his feet, but she slips into her seat before he can initiate a hug. “Thanks,” she says, quietly. “Thanks for seeing me.”

For a moment he wonders if she was angry with him for one reason or another, but he can‘t think of anything he might’ve done wrong. In fact, he hadn’t even seen her since that last time they met almost a year and a half ago.

Which was a memorable night, if he is honest.

But she never got back to him afterwards — and he called her more than once to ask if she was okay.

The night didn’t go like they planned. In fact they never planned a whole night together at all. Or rather — he didn’t plan for things to go the way they did.

He met Tamara in college but for nearly a decade they hadn’t been in contact beyond following each other on social media, even after they found out that they both moved to Fresno county a while ago. But then out of the blue she asked if he wanted to get a drink — just as friends, of course, because she was married at that point.

In hindsight, maybe, he should’ve said no — because, quite honestly, her agenda turned out to be very straightforward and not in a friendship kind of way. But she told him that their marriage failed and that she and her husband were living in separation, planning to get divorced.

So he spent the night with her, and it was not something he would have complained about but it felt all wrong afterwards and he regretted it. And then there was that unfortunate part about the condom being broken and although he knew he didn’t pose a risk to her regarding STD infection and she said she was on birth control, he was worried about it for a couple of days.

So maybe he has a reason to be pissed off because she left him in the dark about how she was coping with the situation. But something tells him not to be angry.

Something tells him that whatever she has to say, he’d be best off listening carefully.

“There is no easy way to say this so I’ll come straight to the point, Justin,” she tells him after they had gone through a moment of obligatory small talk.

“Say what?”

She inhales, holding the air in for a while. Then lets it out slowly and looks him in the eyes. “I wasn’t honest with you last time we met. Bobby and I are still married. And we have a baby daughter. And —“ a very long pause, then, “you’re her biological dad.”

Now, out of all the things she could’ve said this was clearly not what he expected and at the same time, he doesn’t really feel as shocked as he thinks he should. Instead, it’s just like a click in his head and somehow everything falls into place.

Justin lets out a quiet whistle. “So that mishap had consequences after all,” he mutters. He raises her brows at her. “How can you be so sure?”

A sarcastic smile accompanies Tamara’s words when she replies, “‘cos it takes a guy to get pregnant. You are the only one I slept with that fits in the timeline.”

Nodding slowly, Justin wonders, “but you and Bobby are not separated?”

Tamara’s features freeze for a moment, then she shakes her head. “No, we’re still together. We just … we didn’t have sex in … a while.”

Which must mean that —

“So he knows? Like, that he’s not —?“

Tamara confirms with a nod.

“Jesus.”

They look at each other. Tamara’s face is pale and timid. “My daughter, Ella, she is… well, Bobby is named as her father on her birth certificate, but he knows that she’s someone else’s. We just … never really talked about it.”

“Does he know that it’s me? And … like, does he know that you are telling me this?”

Tamara chews on her bottom lip. “Yes, of course. I mean, we discussed telling you for a while and he didn’t want to but I convinced him.”

Justin nods slowly, trying to sort out all the questions bouncing around in his head. “And since you dropped that bomb on me now, do I get to meet her? I mean Ella? Will I get to know her?”

“There’s a lot to sort out,” Tamara replies quietly, “but I do want you to be in her life.” She touches his arm. “I don’t know how or when — or how to explain it to her once she is older. But we’re going to figure it out.” She gets up from her seat, not even finishing her drink, and zips up the jacket she is wearing.

“I will be in touch,” she tells him. “Sorry for dropping this on you like that. Next time we can talk a little longer. I need to get home now.”

Justin watches her walk back out, feeling so overwhelmed by what she told him that for a long time he can barely even move. Then he fumbles his phone from his pocket and dials Clay’s number.

Chapter Text

Between his job, caring for the kids and organizing a big birthday party for his youngest, Clay is so busy that beyond a few hours in front of the PlayStation per week, allocated to the rare evenings when it’s Hannah’s turn to do the bedtime routine, is about all he gets to himself.

And then Justin called again — another emergency.

“Big time,” he said, and Clay knew instantly that something out of the ordinary was going on.

Hannah wasn’t happy when he confronted her with the idea that he was meeting his brother spontaneously on a Wednesday night, leaving it up to her to get the boys to bed and the house cleaned up all by herself.

Whatever is going on, it must be really big because when Justin comes into Rosie’s Diner after the two hour drive from Fresno, he looks almost like he is going about to explode with the news that he has.

“This had better be an emergency,” Clay grumbles anyway when Justin slips into the seat opposite him. “I’m deep in trouble with Hannah for agreeing to this dinner date. She still has to finish some stuff for work and now I’ve left her alone with a house full of chaos.“

At least Justin has the decency to look guilty. “Tell her it’s all my fault. She already thinks bad shit happening is always my fault —“

“Because it usually is,” Clay provides with a nod.

Justin cocks his head and studies him for a moment, possibly considering if he should pretend to be hurt by the comment or just let it go, but then he clearly is about to burst and a moment later he just blurts out what he has to say. “You won’t believe this — I just found out that I am a dad.”

“You … what?” At first Clay isn’t sure he heard right. “You’re going to be a dad?“ He inhales. “Jesus, Justin. Who is she?”

But his brother shakes his head. “No, I am a dad. Like, now. Already.”

Clay raises a brow, turning his head left and right a few times. “Really? So where’s the kid? I don’t see any —“

“Very funny,” Justin snaps, reaching across the table to nudge Clay’s forearm with his fist. “No honestly. I am a father to an actual child. She is still a baby, or almost a toddler, but she’s real.”

“Don’t tell me you donated sperm or something,” Clay says, rolling his eyes.

“Well, in a way —“

“Shut up, I don't want the details,” he interrupts his brother. “Just tell me how you know instead.”

And then Justin tells him a story about a one night stand that followed a night out with his former college crush Tamara — the only girl he liked but never had the guts to ask out. “We hadn’t seen each other in years but I think when we arranged to get together that night she already came with the intention to have sex,” he ends his tale.

Clay frowns, but doesn’t say anything so Justin continues, “she told me that she was married but living in separation.” He pauses to clear his throat. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have slept with her.”

“And you didn’t use protection?” 

Justin shrugs. “We did, but we had a mishap. I tried calling her afterwards but never heard back from her.”

“Jesus,” Clay mutters. He pokes at his stew, it looks a little raw — the new chef at Rosie’s hasn’t improved the food quality, that’s for sure. With a huff he pushes the plate aside and turns his attention back to his brother. “What’s her relationship status now?” he asks. “She still married to the guy but living in separation?”

“Yeah, and no. They’re still married and still together. And he’s the official father to the child. Named on her birth certificate.”

“Knowing it’s not biologically his child?” Clay asks.

“Apparently.” Justin nods. “But something about all this is weird.”

“Weird? Seems like an understatement.” Clay frowns. “Why did she tell you if the child has a father? And why now?” 

“I don’t know,” Justin replies, shoulders slumped. “I’ve been wondering since she told me.”

“Maybe they want money from you?” Clay suggests. It feels unlikely even though he never met Tamara in person. But everything he heard about her indicated that she was more of a giver than a taker. Although that doesn’t necessarily mean that this applies to her husband, too.

In the opposite seat Justin fidgets. It’s an annoying habit that he never quite got rid of even as an adult — he always has to vent nervous energy into some sort of movement. It drove Clay crazy sometimes when they were kids and it feels even harder to bear now.

“But what obligations do I have?” He raises his arms in a questioning manner. “I mean … like, legally, I am nothing to the kid.”

“Could she force you to take a test to prove that you are the father?” Clay wonders. “Either way, maybe all she wants is for you to know the truth and be in your child’s life.” He stops, blinking at his brother. “I can’t believe it, man. You — a dad. That’s crazy.”

“Right?” His fingers drumming on the surface of the table nervously, Justin shifts in his seat again. “I mean, not like it’s the same experience as it was for you. But she did offer me to spend time with Ella. That’s her name — Ella.”

“I gathered,” Clay says dryly.

Justin rolls his eyes at him.

“Maybe we should just wait and see what Tamara comes up with,” Clay continues. A sudden idea pops into his head and he grins. “In the meantime you can borrow some stuff from when the boys were younger — just in case,” he suggests.

“You think I should do that?” Justin asks. “Isn’t it, like, a little too early for that? I mean, I just found out and … I don’t know anything about the kid, yet.”

“You know how to handle a toddler,” Clay shrugs. “And we still have so much stuff we never got around to get rid of — it takes up so much space. And since you are going to spend the night in the outhouse again, why not just help yourself to what you might find useful? You can still give it all back any time if you don’t need it.”

—

Lainie watches her husband with a worried frown as he whips up colored frostings for his younger grandson’s birthday cake — yellow and blue, the colors of his favorite San Francisco basketball team.

Something is off about Matt’s demeanor, has been for a little while now — he seems more short tempered and impatient, especially with himself. Not every day and it has been getting a little better lately, his mood lifting as the weather improved these past two weeks, but still — something’s wrong. 

It’s not a secret that Matt is not a fan of the months January and February, but this year seemed different than it did in the past. Worse.

“I can help you with the cake,” Lainie suggests, when he accidentally drops the little flask of food coloring — a mishap that dissolves into a small but surprisingly vicious rant on his part as the item clatters onto his chair and disappears under the table. With a groan Matt slips off his seat to retrieve it and lowers himself down on his knees — only to bump his head on the edge of the table.

“Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing the hurt spot underneath his hair grumpily as he falls back into his chair a moment later. “Whatever’s the matter with me today?”

With a soft chuckle Lainie places herself behind him, putting both her hands on his shoulders. “I think you need a break, sweetheart,” she says, gently. “Not just from this, but in general. You’re burned out — from work and all that childcare Clay and Hannah are constantly inflicting on you.”

“I love caring for the little ones,” Matt sighs, as he continues with his work. “It’s that constant driving back and forth between here and the college that wears me down.” He pauses to concentrate on the task in front of him for a minute, then adds, “I think I might check if I could either do more remote teaching or cut back on my working hours.”

“I feel like both options would benefit you,” Lainie agrees. “We don’t need you working full time anymore, love. Not with Clay and Hannah paying us off on the house and me still in my comfortable position at the firm.”

“I know,” he replies, “and it’s really very tempting, but —“ he chuckles a little bashfully, “I am a little afraid that I won’t know what to do with myself if I follow through with it. Picking the boys up two afternoons per week and once every other weekend is not going to fill up all the free time I’d have.”

Lainie laughs. “You could find yourself a new hobby. Or spend more time with an existing hobby. Maybe take a cooking class.” She stops laughing, giving her husband a kiss. “Would do you good, anyway. You’re looking a little haggard lately to be honest.”

“The more we talk about it the more tempted I’m getting,” he replies with a sigh. He reaches up to grab her hand, still on his shoulder, and pulls it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“Care to give me a hand here?” he asks as if not she had already offered it a moment ago.

“Sure,” Lainie smiles. She sits next to him and reaches for the food color.

—

Ella had been wailing for the past hour. She is probably teething again, her forehead is warm but Tamara hasn’t gotten around to measuring her temperature. But the way she drools is a tell-tale sign and the fact that neither child nor mom had had more than two hours of sleep two nights in a row only adds to both of their stress.

With almost twenty-five pounds of baby attached to her side practically all day long until now, Tamara is exhausted, but a quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s already three in the afternoon. She still has a lot of work to do.

With a sigh, Tamara carries Ella into the living room, trying but so far failing to find her favorite teething toy — a rubber-made sun-shaped figure that she likes to chew on.

The living room is a catastrophe. Toys lying around everywhere, between them there are stacks of clothing that need to be washed, folded and ironed respectively. Tamara huffs, looking at the chaos with her free hand on her hip while hoisting up her daughter a little with her other arm.

Bobby is not going to be happy about the state of the house.

No longer able to muster the energy, Tamara puts her daughter down on the couch to get rid of the weight hanging off her side for just a moment but the second Ella is detached from her she doubles her volume, crying even harder than before.

Tears are clouding Tamara’s vision as she mutters, “it’s okay baby girl, it’s okay. We’re going to find your little thingy, it’s just a matter of time.”

But Ella clearly hasn’t grasped the concept of patience yet because she doesn’t relent.

Maybe she is hungry, though, Tamara thinks. Maybe it’s not the teeth after all that are giving her so much discomfort. Maybe she is growing.

Not that she hasn’t been growing and growing and growing ever since she came out of the womb. The pediatrician had already expressed concerns about her quickly increasing weight and advised longer stretches between meals.

To hell with that — a hungry baby is a hungry baby. And as a midwife — even though she gave that career up a while ago — Tamara is well aware that children grow and develop in different ways and at different paces no matter where they are on the growth chart.

Tamara tightens the grip on her child while going into the kitchen — warm up water, find the formula powder, mix it all up and hand it to the little one.

Her instinct must have been right this time, as she watches Ella greedily swallow the milk. She holds the bottle on her own, clutched between her hands, chubby fingers spread out to stabilize it, and when it’s almost empty, she just drops it. Her eyes are closed and for the first time that day she seems ready to take a nap.

Carefully Tamara lays her down on the sofa surrounded by thick cushions that keep her from falling off. Once that is done, for a full five minutes Tamara doesn’t dare to move. She just sits next to her sleeping baby, her own eyes closed, fighting to not fall asleep herself.

She can’t.

She has so much to do.

But where to start?

The house is a disaster, laundry still undone, milk bottles in need to be cleaned up and sterilized. She hadn’t gotten around to her daily workout yet, either — but what’s the use of it when the pregnancy weight is just clinging to her obstinately?

It’s been close to a year now and still none of her pre-pregnancy clothes fit. Bobby had even bought her a book on postpartum workout and diet advice — which is also not new to her, given her profession. If only she could stick to the frequency that is required to make progress — but she simply can’t.

Instead, even though she has a little time now, she just pulls out her phone to scroll through her messages.

A few from Bobby on how his work is going. Tamara decides to read them later. A text from her friend Lucy, asking if she was okay. She sends a thumbs up.

And a text from Justin.

Call me back whenever you’re ready. Hope you are doing okay.

Tamara swallows. She lets her thumb hover over the reply button, even considers calling him but then she puts her phone back into her pocket. Now is not a good time to take the next step. Things need to work out. She needs to think it through more thoroughly.

With a sigh that turns into an exhausted groan she pushes herself up and starts collecting all the toys from the floor into a huge basket. Once that is fine, she moves on the kitchen.

She just completed loading the dishwasher when there is a little gurgling sound from the living room that soon turns into the well known sound of wailing.

Ella has finished her nap.

Tamara sighs again. That means that the laundry will have to be done with Ella back on her hip. Or maybe in the baby carrier. She is just in the process of getting the straps adjusted when a key is turned in the lock to the front door.

Bobby is home early.

—

It’s Friday evening before Oliver’s birthday party and it feels like nothing is done.

Hannah casts a look at the digital time display on her oven and frowns. Justin should have been here twenty minutes ago to pick the boys up for a sleepover, and yet there is still no sign of him.

She doesn’t like sending them on the long ride to visit her brother-in-law, especially when it’s supposed to be just for two nights — they are due back on Sunday right in time for the birthday celebration. But with her current workload that spills over into what should be her private time — a critical meeting with a potential customer scheduled for some ungodly hour on Monday morning, a new marketing campaign at stake — and Clay out all Saturday at the book fair at his company and even Payge from across the street, who comes over to nanny the boys sometimes, tied up with school work, there is no other sensible option.

Matt and Lainie had signaled that they were available to babysit as well but Hannah had declined that offer. They are already so involved in the party preparations that they couldn’t shoulder additional responsibilities that should be Clay’s and Hannah’s — and Hannah’s mom had been feeling under the weather this past week. And, quite honestly, the boys love to spend time with their uncle, so Justin got the job.

Hannah lets out a grunt when she finally sees the BMW pull up outside. She washes her hands and hurries to open the door.

“Boys!” she shouts up the stairs as she passes by and soon the two of them appear at the top of the staircase.

“Justin’s here,” Hannah tells them. “Go get your stuff, you’re late already.”

“That’s not our fault, Mommy,” Ollie tells her with wide innocent eyes.

“I know, honey, I know,” Hannah smiles at her son. “But you can still help to make the best of the situation.”

“Okay.” Oliver disappears into his room. His actual birthday was on Thursday and now that he is five he has been overly proud every time he could help the grownups with something.

While the kids roam around upstairs, picking up the backpacks they prepared with Clay that morning and whatever additional stuff they want to bring, Hannah arrives at the door just in time for her brother-in-law to get himself in position to knock. He had already raised his fist, dropping it to his side when the door swings open in front of him.

“You’re late,” Hannah announces.

The statement is met with a boyish trademark Justin Jensen grin and he replies with a shrug, “I’m sorry — traffic was a total bitch today.”

Hannah suppresses a sigh. Clay would instantly reject her suspicion if she were to share with him how in her presence Justin seemed behave immature on purpose, but she can’t help getting that impression. But whether or not he does, him being so casual all the time angers her all the same. She opens her mouth to reprimand him but before she can say anything she hears a chuckle from behind her and her eldest’s voice. “You’re not allowed to say ‘bitch‘.”

Justin’s grin gets a little broader for just a split second, but then he blinks the mischief away and offers his nephew a casual salute and a very accentuated apology to everyone present.

Hannah smiles sourly. “Just a friendly reminder, you’re going to be thirty-one next month — maybe it’s time to start acting like an adult.”

“I’m really sorry, Hannah,” Justin repeats, and he breaks into a friendly smirk. It’s the sort that once captured her heart and made her fall for his charm back in high school.

With an apologetic gesture Justin doesn’t wait for another response but moves forward to take the backpacks from his nephews. With a little happy squeal Oliver takes advantage of the extra height from standing on the stairs and all but jumps into his uncle’s arms.

Justin makes a bit of a show of how big and heavy his nephew is now that he is five and with the boys both attached to his side, laughing, all three of them shuffle outside to leave.

Hannah watches with her arms crossed, a tiny smile breaking through. She isn’t sure how genuine Justin’s apologies really are but she has no other choice but to take things the way they are. Once they are gone, it’s out of her control what kind of language he is going to use around her boys, anyway.

It doesn’t even matter that much, because other than the swearing — that isn’t always appropriate — she knows that her sons are in good hands. She knows that Justin makes it a point to drive carefully, way more even than he already does, when the boys are in the backseat. She knows that he is going to make sure they are in bed at a reasonable time and fed and hydrated sufficiently. She knows that he will cook their favorite meal of spaghetti and meatballs and serve them apple and cucumber slices to balance out the large amount of ice cream he’s going to buy for them on Saturday afternoon.

Justin is the perfect uncle and he had proven it a long time ago. And yet it seems that Hannah will never manage to look beyond his charming attitude and the fact that he brings a different girlfriend to Christmas dinner every year.

She had spent some time wondering why he seems to never manage to maintain a relationship beyond a couple months and while it’s not her business anyway it reminds her of the boy he was in high school. How inconsiderate he could be back then, when it came to weighing his own interests against those of the people around him, including her. And even Clay, really.

But then he’s the person that Hannah’s children attach themselves to the very minute he arrives, the one they ask when they’ll next meet before they even say good-bye when Justin delivers them back home.

Arms crossed over her chest Hannah watches her boys as they climb into the car excitedly only to be shooed out again by Justin who had gone to pick up their booster seats from where Clay stored them in the outhouse before leaving for the office that morning. He installs the seats and the boys climb back in and moments later they are out of sight.

—

Oliver’s party was a success, Clay thinks, as he waves goodbye to Oliver’s best kindergarten friend Jerome and his exhausted looking mother. They’ve had a house full of children, screaming and yelling, involuntarily reminding Clay of when they celebrated Justin’s sixth birthday, a few months after he joined the family as a foster child.

More than twenty years have passed since that day, but Clay can still recall that day surprisingly vividly, specifically remembering being really jealous.

When he himself was little, he had preferred to have one or two kids over for cake and a few quiet party games on his own birthday. Meanwhile Justin had picked a group of the most obnoxious and annoying boys from their kindergarten class and Mom and Dad had their hands full, and for one whole afternoon, no one even took notice of Clay at all.

Maybe Mateo had felt just the same today, he wonders.

Now that everyone else has left to go home, there are only the four of them left, gathered in the disastrously messy living room, plus Mom, Dad and Justin. After a moment’s time, taking in the chaos around her, Hannah announces that it’s time to get the boys ready for bed.

Not long after she disappeared, after wrestling the kids away from leftover cake and stacked in the corner birthday presents, Clay’s brother clears his throat loud enough to gather everyone’s attention.

But before he can speak up Mom blurts out, “we have news.”

Surprised, both of her sons turn their heads to look at her.

She laughs at their astonished faces. “We’ve decided to extend the family,” she explains, an excited glow in her eyes. “We’re getting a dog.”

“You’re getting a dog?” Clay raises his brows. It seems like such a weird thing for his parents to do at their age.

But of course, Justin is immediately on board. “That is a great idea,” he exclaims. “It’s going to keep you fit, taking it out for a daily walk. And when you need a dog-sitter,” he glances over at Clay and winks, “I’m sure Mateo and Ollie will volunteer any time.”

Despite knowing that his brother is just pulling his leg Clay gasps and shakes his head. “No offense, but no. We’re grateful for all that you guys are doing, and we will make it all up to you one day. But we can’t handle any additional duties right now.” He sends a glare at Justin for bringing it up and putting him into this position. “Maybe, when the boys are a little older —“

“Don’t worry, Clay,” Mom interrupts him calmly, waving a hand. “We’re not expecting either of you to dog-sit. I mean, the boys probably’ll want to come out and play with it from time to time. But we’re not handing over the responsibility to you for a pet that we chose to get.” She grins. “We’ll rarely need a dog-sitter anyway, I guess, but if we do, Justin might be willing to help out.”

Lifting his hands defensively, Justin leans back against the back of the couch and shakes his head. “A little while ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes to that. But …” he pauses there, as if to increase the tension and make the inevitable announcement even more prominent, “as it so happens … I kind of have big news to share with you all as well.”

Now it’s Mom and Dad who are surprised.

Justin hesitates another moment, looking from one to the other. “I just found out that I have a kid.”

Both, Mom and Dad, raise their heads. “You have what?”

“I have a kid,” Justin repeats, with a shrug and a soft smile. “A daughter. Her name is Ella and she is going to be one year old soon.”

The announcement leaves the room in silence for a moment as their parents look at each other, then at Justin and finally at Clay who can’t think of anything else to do but to raise a shoulder in a half-shrug.

Mom is the first to find words, and unfairly, she directs them at Clay. “Did you know?”

Clay lowers his head, a tiny nod but confirmation enough.

Mom peers over at Dad who gives the impression that he is still lost for words, and then at her adopted son, a frown clouding her expression slightly. “But you are not together with her mother, right?”

“Uh… no. Otherwise I would think I’d have found out sooner,” Justin replies matter-of-factly. “Is that, like, a problem?”

Mom shakes her head, and finally Dad seems to have found his voice again. “No, kiddo. That’s not necessarily a problem. It’s just … it makes things complicated, doesn’t it?”

Mom shushes him with a quick hand gesture. “Do we know her?” she asks softly.

Justin doesn’t reply instantly. He meets Clay’s eyes, as if he expected his brother to have anything helpful to say — which Clay doesn’t — and then he sighs, explaining, “I don’t know if you remember Tamara? The one who met you once … when I wasn’t well. Back in college.”

“That was eleven years ago,” Dad exclaims. His eyes are wide, and he looks immediately bothered by the memory of that particular day, but then he proceeds to speak in a calm and composed voice, “I mean, of course I remember her. I don’t think I’ll forget that moment when she called me, saying that you collapsed. That was quite the night — forever ingrained in my memory, that’s for sure.” He pauses there to give Justin a questioning look. “I didn’t think you were still in contact.”

Justin’s cheeks have turned pink. “Well, she reached out to me — out of the blue, really, and we, uh … we dated. Once. And then all of a sudden she called me to tell me a few weeks ago.”

Trying not to be obvious about it, Clay studies his brother from the side.

As much as he can tell, Justin hadn’t done anything wrong when it came to Tamara. He had known about the broken condom, yes, but according to his tale, Tamara had ghosted him, giving him no chance to find out if she was okay after their encounter. But under their parents’ disbelieving stare Clay’s younger brother looks nervous, almost guilty about the whole affair. And part of Clay can’t help enjoying it for just a brief moment, even if it makes him feel guilty at the same time.

It’s hard not to feel like he is the inferior son next to Justin, and that feeling got worse since Clay and Hannah had become so overly dependent on their parents’ help with the kids — enough that Clay can’t help feeling guilty about it.

But in his own way, Justin had always seemed superior.

He was the popular kid in school, the sports guy, the one who caught the girls’ eyes. But not just that, he was also always a challenge for their parents, always the center of their — especially Mom’s — attention. Not because he was trying to rebel against them or behave deliberately difficult, but because with his traumatic early childhood experiences before they adopted him, he needed a lot more guidance from their parents.

So if he’s sheepishly staring down at his feet right now, absentmindedly scratching the back of his dark haired head with one hand, Clay might just have the right to be a little gleeful.

“So you’re really a dad?” Mom finally repeats, breaking the silence between them and looking as if she didn’t know whether she should be excited or not.

“Yeah. Really.”

“And, um, have you met your daughter?”

“Not yet,” Justin replies. “But I’m going to. I guess I’ll have more information after that.”

Both Mom and Dad still look overwhelmed by what they just learned. But they nod, trying to digest the news. Clay, on the other hand, had had a head start on that — he had known for a while. He sits on the couch, studying his parents’ faces as they try to come to terms with what they just learned, and tries to decide if he should get involved in the conversation.

After another long moment it’s finally Mom who speaks up again, her concerned eyes focused firmly on the younger of her two sons. “I’m not trying to sound rude, sweetheart, but I think you should take a test. Especially if your friend Tamara doesn’t have a partner to help provide for the child. It’s possible that she just wants money from you.”

Justin doesn’t look offended but he shakes his head. “I don't think that’s what she wants. She’s married — and I think her husband has a pretty well paid job.”

“So do you,” Clay points out.

Justin chuckles. “Yeah… uh, no, actually. Compared to that dude I’m basically a nobody. Anyways, he’s officially Ella’s dad, so I really don’t think this about money or anything.”

Clay glances over at his mother. “That sounds complicated,” she says. “What is your role going to be?”

“Like I said, I’m about to find out,” Justin replies, sounding a little irritated now. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything just yet. I really can’t answer your questions.”

“Maybe you can answer this one,” Dad says quietly from where he had sat in his corner, mostly listening until now. “What is it that you want?” He clears his throat and adds, “I mean, do you want to be a dad? Do you want to have a relationship with that kid?”

Justin doesn’t reply instantly, but when he does it’s in an unusually timid way, that Clay isn’t used to from his brother. “I’ve thought about that a lot. And I think I do. But I feel like it isn’t my call.”

“I think you should tell Tamara what you want,” Dad advises with a gentle smile. “Let her know that you would love to get to know the little one.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I also want to respect Tamara’s wishes,” Justin replies with a sigh. “And her husband’s, I guess.”

“I think she’d like for you to be in that child’s life, because otherwise she wouldn’t have told you,” Clay announces. “Question is — does her husband want that as well?”

“I don’t know,” Justin says, shifting on the couch uncomfortably. “I don’t know anything about the dude. Not beyond the fact that his name’s Bobby and he's a mid level manager at a big insurance company.”

“Well, you might get to know him soon,” Clay concludes.

He watches his brother deflate a little, almost invisibly to anyone who doesn’t know him as well as Clay does, and wonders if there is still a part of him that regrets that he never tried his chances with Tamara. In college they became friends but Justin was too caught up in his personal challenges, struggling so hard for the first couple months that he had to transfer to another school, close enough to home that he was able to move back in with their parents and attend school from there.

And that’s when he and Tamara lost sight of each other.

“The kids are both down for the night, finally,” Hannah’s voice cuts through Clay’s thoughts. He hadn’t noticed her return to the living room.

She closes the door behind herself and comes over to join them where she makes a big deal of thanking her in-laws for making the party possible.

Clay watches her, feeling a little left out. After all, he was part of making it happen, too. It wasn’t fair of her to blame him when for once he had had to hand over the tasks that came with their personal plans to the extended family and go to a work related event on a Saturday. But it is exactly what she had done, even though she never said it out loud.

He sighs, making sure that no one in the room heard. Maybe, he wonders silently, maybe over the years he and Hannah have lost sight of each other as well, to some extent — despite being right in front of each other almost every day for the past ten years.

Maybe that is what happens after a few years of marriage and being so used to each other that it’s like taking each other for granted.

Maybe it’s time to take a closer look at that.

Chapter Text

A few days after Oliver’s party Lainie sits in her car, driving to a court hearing, feeling anxious. There’s not even a specific reason for her to feel that way, at least none that she could actually pinpoint. It’s more like there is something lurking in the back of her mind, something she hadn’t consciously thought about, but that won’t let go of her.

Brooding doesn’t help, she reminds herself.

She is going to get to all the little things that are bothering her, solve them one by one. Maybe not today, but soon.

The most imminent thing is to make sure Matt is finally going to see a doctor, because the more time goes by the more she is sure that he isn’t well. Whatever it is that is compromising his health, he might need some sort of treatment. And if not, then at least a checkup will give her reassurance that she needn’t worry about him.

Then, obviously, there is Justin, and Lainie has no idea what to do with that situation. She had called her son a few times to follow up on the matter, getting the same answer every time — there’s no news. Tamara hadn’t contacted him since that one time in January and although he does his best to keep up the impression that it doesn’t worry him, Lainie knows that it’s not true.

And then Clay. Lainie had noticed a while ago how her older son was struggling with some sort of dissatisfaction that he doesn’t talk about, possibly with his work situation — and it hasn't been getting better.

It wasn't always like it is now. There were times when Clay thought he might be a successful author, and he even made attempts to draft a few of his novel ideas. But then the kids came, and then Hannah was in need of almost twenty-four hour assistance after Oliver. And so what Clay needed most was a safe job after three months of unpaid parental leave to support his family and the publishing company he had worked for since graduating from college provided just that.

She glances at the time display on the dashboard behind the wheel. It’s Wednesday and Clay usually starts working at seven on Wednesdays, so he can get off in time to pick up the kids after school and kindergarten. It’s 8:11 now — too late to reach him before his weekly morning meeting.

So she dials Justin’s number instead. He answers after the second ring and she knows from the background noise that he is driving. “Is it urgent?”

Lainie smirks. “How about ‘hey Mom, good to hear from you’?”

She can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Hey mom, good to hear from you” he repeats. Then, “listen, I appreciate you calling but I am really late for a meeting. Can I get back to you tonight?”

Lainie suppresses a sigh. “I was just wondering if you heard back from Tamara yet?”

“No.” It’s impossible to miss the impatience in his voice. His mind is clearly somewhere else right now. “Look, I said I’d keep you in the loop. And I intend to keep that promise.”

So Lainie lets him off the hook and listens to a podcast instead. True crime has become one of her favorite things lately, and she’s just about to get to the part where they solve the case when the sound system pauses the podcast and then announces an incoming phone call from her daughter-in-law.

“Hannah?”

“Lainie … sorry to impose on you this early.” She sounds a little out of breath.

“I’m happy to help with whatever. Is everything alright?” Lainie inquires, concerned.

“More or less,” Hannah replies. She seems hesitant to come forward with what is on her mind. “It’s just … I was thinking … could we maybe grab dinner together sometime? I think I need to talk to you about something —“

Surprised Lainie blinks a few times. Then she nods, forgetting that Hannah is on the phone and doesn’t see her.

“Lainie, you still there?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. May I ask what this is about?”

Hannah doesn’t answer instantly. Lainie can hear her release a deep, troubled sounding sigh. “I don’t know how to start … I mean —“ she pauses to catch another deep breath. “It’s just … me not knowing how to do it, you know? Being a mom and a successful marketing manager at the same time. I feel like I can’t do either of it right. So … um, I thought … since you had a demanding job when Clay and Justin were the same age as Mateo and Ollie … I wonder — how’d you do it?”

“Matt had my back,” Lainie says without missing a beat. “He always had my back.” She pauses. “But I won’t lie, it wasn’t always easy and he wasn’t always happy about my working hours.” She smiles to herself, thinking back to when her sons were little. “You know, dinner’s actually a very good idea. I’ll tell you more about it then. Would Monday next week suit you?”

“Perfect,” Hannah agrees. “Thank you.”

—

On the day of their wedding, part of Clay couldn’t believe his luck. It wasn’t all good, not even on that day. But between Hannah and him, things couldn’t have been better. She was his now — committed to him and a future life with him.

Living happily ever after — or how they say.

It wasn't like that, though, he soon learned after their wedding. At no point was there ever a time when everything seemed as perfect as he’d imagined it.

They had managed so many family crises together — Hannah’s parents’ separation that devastated her when they were both still in college, Justin’s major relapse into heavily disordered eating habits around the time of their wedding that devastated Clay and then finally only two and a half years later Hannah’s deep postpartum depression after Oliver was born.

And now that they developed a routine over the past few years, it suddenly feels to him as if they were drifting apart. With Hannah’s demanding job and the boys still needing so much of their attention and Clay trying to meet their needs without having to give up on his own ambition completely — it seems as if when there is no actual obstacle to overcome, other than the day to day life, there is no reason to hold onto what was once an inseparable bond.

Because Hannah is always putting herself first.

And at the same time, she is the one who’s always complaining, about every little chore that falls to her, as if Clay wasn’t the one who already did the majority of the household chores.

He grew up with a mother who worked a lot and was very successful at her job but he doesn’t remember her being this vicious about it being her right to do so. And he doesn’t remember her neglecting her motherly duties. Somehow she managed to be a successful lawyer and live up to the expectations of not just being a mother but a foster parent as well.

Clay would never say that Hannah doesn’t care about her kids. She does. She loves them deeply and especially with Ollie it was a long and rocky path to get to that point.

But sometimes Clay wonders if they had had the boys way too early. They were only twenty-five, almost fresh out of college, and not ready for that sort of responsibility.

And now?

Now their lives have become a routine that is built on fragile foundations, always just one unexpected occurrence away from total collapse.

And tonight, it seems, it might even have come another step closer towards the breaking point.

She had texted him, asking for his thoughts on her participation in a spontaneous celebration with a few of her co-workers after a successful pitch that got the company a new client.

Clay agreed, albeit hesitantly. It’s not that she doesn’t deserve a night out once a while. But at such short notice it is always a challenge. He agreed anyway, thinking about how he dumped all the nighttime duties on her equally spontaneously not long ago when Justin asked him to go out so he could tell Clay about Ella.

It wasn’t until he saw a picture on social media that Hannah got tagged in, that Clay realized that her night out wasn’t with a group of co-workers. It was a meal at a fancy restaurant with only one of her male colleagues.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you get to decide with whom I can have a drink with to celebrate a work achievement,” she snapped when she got home referring to a text he’d sent her. 

Clay was surprised by her sharp tone. “No, but I get to expect you to be honest with me,” he insisted. “You’d be equally irritated about me going out one-on-one with an attractive female colleague, especially if you had been thinking that there were a bunch of people coming along.”

She didn’t admit to that, and for a little while there was just an icy silence between them as they undressed and brushed their teeth and finally laid down in bed. Which is where they are now, sullen and angry, barely looking at each other.

Clay is about to turn off the lights when Hannah glances over, briefly. “You wouldn’t have agreed if I’d told you.”

Clay huffs. “So you lied instead? Is that supposed to be a solution?”

“No.” She shakes her head, looking exhausted. “It wasn’t a lie to me.”

Clay raises his eyebrows, waiting for a further explanation.

Hannah huffs. “Look, there were a bunch of us at first, so that part wasn’t a lie. Two cancelled at the last minute and one came along, but stayed only for one drink. After that it was just Mark and I.”

“Well, that’s not what it looked like in the photo,” Clay insists, but the fury in his stomach eases a little. “Anyway, if you had told me what you are telling me now, I wouldn’t have had anything against it.”

“So you’re saying if I had told you everyone canceled or left early except me and Mark, that wouldn’t have pissed you off?”

“Not as much as it pisses me off that you didn’t tell me that.”

“And how ‘bout trusting me?” she asks him quietly. “Wouldn’t that be the thing to do?”

“Yeah, maybe I should have,” he mutters. Feeling too tired to keep up the conversation he switches off the lamp on his bedside table. He can feel her eyes boring into him in the dark and makes a mental note to apologize to her in the morning.

For now needs a moment to himself to sort out his emotions, and maybe, so does she.

—

If he is totally honest Matt isn’t completely on board with Lainie’s idea to get a dog. But there is that part of him that just can’t bear to disappoint his wife and getting a pet seems to be what she needs at this point — even if he doesn’t really understand it.

On the other hand — with his plans to reduce work hours after the end of the ongoing semester, he’s going to have some extra time on his hands, so maybe a pet is what he needs, too. Maybe he just doesn’t know it yet.

They hadn’t decided if they wanted a puppy or an older dog who was in need of a new home. There are good arguments for either of the two options. Thinking about his grandkids, Matt would have preferred a puppy but then again there are probably way too many poor creatures in the animal shelters who’d deserve a second chance.

Matt had been weighing both options thoroughly for the past two hours, as he sat in his car, going through the two hour drive to see his adopted son.

They hadn’t done a father-and-son day like this in almost a year.

Growing up, Justin had always tended to gravitate more towards Lainie — not just because she was the first to win his trust when he became their foster child. The two of them had a lot in common. They both loved being active, looking for adventure, while Clay and Matt always tended to find more joy in having their peace and quiet.

But there is one thing that Justin enjoyed doing with Matt, and that was helping him cook. It started when the boy was seven or eight years old and he would sit, watching his adoptive dad prepare ingredients, beaming whenever he got to help with a task, such as cutting up vegetables or seasoning the food.

And somehow, they kept it up over the years. Not always — the habit died down for a while when the boys were teenagers and too busy with school, sports and chasing girls — but it was revived when Justin moved back home after his first semester in college. It was a time when they were happy if he ate at all. But helping Matt prepare meals for the family became a major part of the healing process from his eating disorder. And so Matt made it a point to keep the tradition going as best as he could.

He glances over at the bag of groceries he insisted on bringing. Justin had told him repeatedly that he was capable of doing the grocery shopping himself but Matt loved looking around the stores. Oftentimes it helps him come up with last minute modification ideas for his recipes.

Ahead of him his son’s apartment block comes into view. He parks the car as close to the entrance as possible and grabs his bag and keys.

Justin awaits him at the door of his apartment. It always surprises Matt how neat his son’s place looks when he arrives. Growing up Clay was always the one who would make sure that they didn’t drown in chaos, a habit that made his brother tease him mercilessly. Now he has two kids of his own and it’s usually Clay’s house that is a total mess.

With a smile Justin takes the bags and steps aside to let his dad pass.

Matt nods and shuffles towards the couch, a sudden strong urge to sit down overcoming him. Then there is dizziness, clouding his mind, and he closes his eyes for a second, leaning back into the soft cushions.

“Dad? Jesus — Dad, are you okay?”

Justin’s voice seems to come from far away and Matt blinks a few times. Finally the fog clears and he finds himself looking into a pair of blue eyes, darkened with worry.

“I just need a moment,” he says slowly. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should’ve told me,” Justin insists. He turns around to disappear for a moment behind the cupboard that separates the small kitchenette from the living room, then he returns with a tall glass of water. When Matt takes it, he notices that his hands are shaking.

“Thanks,” he croaks.

Great, now even his voice gives out on him. He huffs and does his best to straighten up, but the dizziness returns and he can feel his body deflate without having given it permission to.

“You shouldn’t have driven all this way like this, Dad,” Justin chastises. He sits down on the couch next to his father, takes the half full glass back from him and shakes his head. “Honestly, if Mom hears about this —“

“She’d better not,” Matt replies, sending his son a pleading look.

Justin stares at him with his eyebrows raised. “You don’t think this is going to stay between just the two of us?” he asks. “I mean, you almost fainted on me.”

“I was hoping it could stay between you and me for now,” Matt replies. “It was just low blood sugar. I need a good meal — that should do the trick.”

Justin gives him a long stare, then he places his hands on his thighs and gets up with a sigh. “Well,” he announces, “I’m the one who’s cooking. You’re staying here on the couch, resting.”

Matt smiles. “Fair enough.”

Shaking his head Justin gets the groceries bags from where he dropped them by the door and carries them onto the kitchen counter to unpack them. Matt watches him for a bit.

It doesn’t take long, though, until he can’t stand sitting around anymore.

It isn’t so much the fact that he doesn’t trust his son to make them food. Justin may not be a kitchen mastermind but he is more than capable of following the instructions of a recipe. But it’s Matt‘s hobby and his plan and it may be childish but he wants to take the lead.

He accepts the candy bar Justin urges him to have against his low blood sugar symptoms and indeed, he soon feels better.

“Are you going to regular check ups?” Justin asks when they finally sit down to eat. “Because you’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Matt sighs, defeated. “Uh … yeah. Sure. I mean, your mom makes me. I go in once a year.”

Justin eyes him suspiciously. “So there’s no reason to worry? Because Mom said you’re due for a visit but you keep rescheduling.”

“No, that’s not what happened.” Matt shakes his head, slightly angered. “I rescheduled once because something came up at the last minute, and then last week the doctors office called me to cancel because they were short staffed. But I have a new appointment on Thursday.”

Justin smiles and nods, looking satisfied with the response. “That’s all I needed to know.”

—

“So, here we are.“ Lainie smiles encouragingly, picking up the menu card.

They are at a newly opened oriental restaurant in the town center of Evergreen. A few of Hannah’s colleagues had recommended the place. It’s a small restaurant, warmly decorated and soft music playing in the background.

However, studying the available choices, Lainie has no idea what to order. Most of the available choices she had never eaten before. “Anything you’d recommend?”

“I’ve never been to this place.” Hannah shakes her head, studying the menu. “But it‘s all very tempting.”

“Oh, well — I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Lainie decides with a laugh. She takes off her reading glasses and puts them aside. They make her feel older than she is, but without she can’t read a thing. “So, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Hannah looks hesitant, her hands laid on the table in front of her, the thumb of her left hand turning her wedding ring around her finger nervously. “It’s probably going to be an uncomfortable conversation, since I might say things about Clay that annoy me … and you’re his mom —“

Lainie chuckles, a wave of her hand dismissing Hannah’s concern. “There are a hundred things that annoy me about Clay. Trust me, I know my son’s faults. Still love him, though. So … fire away.“

Hannah presses her lips together for a sour smirk. “Right.” She clenches her fist, unclenches it again. “So … how do I explain this?“ She pauses, to suck on her lip. “I … uh, I kinda feel like nothing belongs to me anymore — if that makes sense?”

Lainie nods, waiting for her to elaborate.

Hannah sighs. “Everything I have to give either goes to my family or my employer. Nothing’s left for me.” She shrugs. “Sorry for loading this onto you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know exactly how you feel,” Lainie assures her daughter-in-law. “It’s pretty much how most parents feel, I’m afraid. Especially moms.”

Hannah lowers her head. “I really wanted kids. I wanted to be a mom. And I love my boys. But I never thought the responsibility of having them would weigh on me like this. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. It’s never good enough.”

“Have you shared those feelings with Clay?” Lainie asks softly.

Hannah nods. “Yeah. I mean … Clay — he’s doing his best and I bet he feels unfit to do the job himself from time to time.”

“I’ve rarely ever met a parent who doesn’t,” Lainie provides. “And if those who don’t … well, it’s normally not a good sign.”

“I know.” Hannah pauses again. “But Clay … he doesn’t understand that things are different for me than they are for him.“ She releases a frustrated breath. “He doesn’t get judged if he decides to attend a work related event over a weekend with the kids. And he doesn’t have to prove himself the way I do at work.”

“You mean, you have to work twice as hard than let’s say, a single woman with no kids —“

“Yeah … or a male colleague with kids.”

Lainie nods along with every word. “Yeah, that is unfair, I know,” she tells Hannah. “When Clay was Mateo’s age I took in a five year old as a foster child. No one in the firm had any understanding whatsoever —“

Hannah frowns. “So you’re basically saying that I have it easy compared to what you had?“

Lainie shakes her head. “Oh, no no no. That’s not what I meant. I just meant that our life is challenging enough, even if we don’t listen to everyone’s opinions. And, as a matter of fact, I think you’re doing great, Hannah.”

The waiter comes by their table to take their orders and once he’s left again Hannah shakes her head. “You know … I get so angry at Clay sometimes. Even though he’s probably the most reliable guy a girl could wish for.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“But still … I don’t know. We argue so much lately, fighting over every moment of free time that we get —“

Lainie hesitates. This isn’t what she experienced with Matt. They discussed things, yes, sometimes they were unable to agree on something for a while, each trying to advocate for their own position, but they rarely ever held a grudge over it.

Matt was always understanding, always willing to step back and let Lainie do her thing. But she does remember him mentioning from time to time that she worked too much. And he would complain sometimes that on top of her work she was always available for pro bono legal advice to her friend Samantha Miller and the kids she supported in her job in social services.

But they didn’t fight over it.

“Do you think that I should talk to Clay, explain your perspective to him?“

Hannah shakes her head. “Oh no. Please don’t. I’m sure he already knows. And … well — all that arguing … that's probably all on me.” She sends Lainie an abashed look. “I guess, I just needed your reassurance that I have a right to demand to be seen.”

Lainie smiles at her daughter-in-law. “You have that, trust me, Hannah. You do.”

At that moment the waiter arrives at their tables with their drinks.

—

Tamara lies in bed, pretending to be asleep. It’s still early, barely light outside. The bed is narrow, suffocatingly narrow. She’s already curled up on the very edge of the mattress. There’s a naked foot, reaching well into her space. She had tried to softly push it back a few times, but it just kept being pushed right back.

Ella is still in her crib, dozing. She had been up to be fed about two and a half hours ago, and Tamara was unable to get back to sleep after that.

Today is the day.

Her stomach taut with nerves, she glances at her bag, packed with a small assortment of clothes for both her and her daughter, and everything else they will need to survive for a couple days. It’s placed in the far corner, hidden from sight behind a single chair with a stack of undone laundry sitting on top.

Bobby had complained last night about the clothes not having been washed and it got really scary for a moment. The pieces of the vase he chucked against the wall are still scattered around the floor.

The alarm goes off on the other side of the bed, and Tamara flinches, quickly shoving a knuckle into mouth between her teeth, sinking them into her skin to stop herself from making suspicious noises.

She listens to the grunt Bobby makes, shoving the covers away, the sounds of him getting up to get ready for work. He is shuffling around in the bathroom, the shower is turned on and then off again, five minutes later. She listens to the sound of his razor and the electric toothbrush.

Then her husband peeks into their bedroom one more time.

Tamara holds her breath but keeps her eyes shut, still pretending to sleep. Why does he take so long?

She doesn’t know what he is doing. Is he looking at Ella? Or searching for a missing sock? Possibly looking until he finds it next to the packed bag in the corner?

Not daring to breathe, Tamara waits until she hears the door being shut again. Finally, she hears Bobby's footsteps descend the stairs. When they are far enough away, Tamara tiptoes to the bedroom door to open it again and leave it ajar — early warning if Bobby decides to come back up.

Moving soundlessly, she crosses the room and grabs her bag from its hiding place, when Ella‘s sudden waking sounds make her wince. Gently, she picks the little girl up with shaking arms. Outside the bedroom she can hear her husband ascending the stairs. “Darling, the baby is hungry,” he calls.

His voice sounds all normal, indifferent to the fact that the last time he spoke to her he was yelling, deliberately throwing a vase at her, meaning for it to hit the wall right next to her head.

“I got it,” Tamara calls back quickly.

Please don’t come back inside. Please don’t come back inside.

Her heart is thumping in her chest.

“I’m off to work,” Bobby informs her then. And then she can hear his footfalls, back downstairs. A few minutes later the front door falls shut.

Tamara releases the air from her lungs, pressing Ella to her chest. She sits on her bed, lets her baby drink her morning milk, then she lays her on the changing table for a fresh diaper and clean, weather adjusted clothes.

Once Ella is ready Tamara picks up her phone and dials a number. After the second ring a female voice answers.

“Tam?”

“I’m doing it, Lucy,” Tamara says. Her voice is raw and shaky. “I’m leaving him today. Can you pick me up at the Bay Hotel? I’m going to hide my phone there somewhere, so if he traces it he’ll think I’m there.”

The voice on the other side answers soothingly. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Just — remember to delete my number. Or he’ll know where to look for you if he finds the phone.”

Tamara nods, her heart still thumping. “I’m on my way now. I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

Lucy sighs. “I’m afraid you won’t be on the other side by the time we meet. But we’ll get you there.”

—

Matt feels numb.

There must be a mistake.

But the blood results are not lying.

He shakes his head even though no one is there to take notice of the gesture.

It's just a possibility. A very plausible possibility, maybe … but there’s still a chance that the biopsy will show that there is nothing to worry.

He doesn’t have cancer.

He can’t have cancer.

He is about to transfer to a new phase in his life, reduced work hours and more free time to enjoy what until twenty minutes ago he believed to be the last third of his life. Yes, correct. He is only sixty-one, an age that might have seemed frighteningly old when he was thirty. But the truth is, Matt had thought the sixty years lying behind him were only two thirds of the time that was allocated to him.

He might have to reconsider that estimation.

But how can he?

He still has a lot of living to do.

And what will Lainie say? The boys? His grandsons? How can he inflict this on them when they all have their own problems to deal with?

Lainie is awaiting him at home, waiting for news that is supposed to relieve her — give her reassurance that everything is going to be okay. So how can he go and tell her that things might be way worse than they thought?

It’s only when he finds himself standing in front of their old house that Matt realizes that he took a wrong turn.

Is he becoming demented now as well?

But then the front door opens and Clay comes out. He must have seen his dad through the window from his home office upstairs. He comes right down the steps leading up to the entrance and it takes all of Matt’s self control to not just blurt it out or dissolve into some sort of mental breakdown.

“Dad? Are we… did I miss something?” Clay asks, confusion on his face, offering a hug. “I mean … I don’t think we scheduled a get together today or anything.”

“No.” Matt lowers his eyes but forces a grin to accompany his abashed half-shrug. “No, I was just… I don’t know. I felt like seeing my favorite grandchildren.”

Now Clay looks even more surprised. After a moment his face darkens a little. “Dad — it’s just before noon. Mateo and Ollie aren’t at home. They have school.” He looks suspicious and very worried now. “Are you okay?”

Matt looks at his son. “Oh buddy,” he sighs. There is a sudden overwhelming urge to share the news. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

And that’s what they do, just the two of them. Afterwards Matt isn’t sure what is going on behind his son’s wide, shocked eyes.

Clay isn’t exactly known to be an optimist, and for a brief moment Matt wonders if it made sense to have him being the first family member involved. But then Clay says, “it can be treated, right? I mean, you’re going to be okay. Right?”

“The diagnosis hasn’t even been confirmed yet,” Matt replies.

He can’t wrap his mind around getting treatment just yet. He’s not there yet.

It is just a possibility.

“But … like, your bloodwork, does it point to any other diagnosis? Something more harmless?”

Matt thinks back to what the doctor said and shakes his head. “There isn’t much room for other possibilities. There’s a high probability it’s blood cancer.”

“Oh, Dad,” Clay says, looking down at his feet.

Matt meets his eldest son’s eyes, offering a small smile. “One thing, though, Clay.” He inhales deeply, not sure how his son is going to react. “I want you to keep this information between the two of us until we know for sure.”

Clay shakes his head. “No,” he says instantly. “No way. Even if we don’t tell Mom until it’s certain, I can’t keep it to myself. I …need to … can I at least tell Justin?”

Hesitantly, Matt considers it. Justin already knows that something is going on, he saw his dad a moment away from collapse the other day. But there’s no keeping him from telling Lainie, so, “not yet, but maybe Hannah, if you want to get it off your chest.”

Clay averts his gaze, his shoulders sinking in a way it makes Matt feel worried. “Something wrong between the two of you?”

Clay hesitates. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It feels like we’re both unhappy about something and neither of us knows how to tell the other what we need.” He pauses and shrugs. “It’s such a minor thing compared to what you’re facing, though. So, don’t worry about it.”

Matt wants to comfort him, tell him that it’s not true, but Clay is right. His son is struggling with conflict within his marriage, and that is hard and painful. But deep down inside of him, Matt knows, the struggles that he himself will have to face, will be a lot harder.

Chapter Text

Lainie parks the car on the side of the road, right in front of the address the woman on the phone had given her. She opens the car door and slides out in a swift motion. For a moment she studies the place, her eyes squinted against the afternoon sun.

She’s looking at a neatly maintained home, a little yard at the front, flowers lining the small path that leads to the front door. It seems inviting enough, she decides with a chuckle to herself and then turns around to let the kids out of the car.

“Is it here, Grammy?” Oliver's excited voice comes from the back of the car as soon as she opens his door. He’s already unbuckled his seatbelt and next to him Mateo is fidgeting in his own seat, just as excited. “Can we come inside the house with you? Please?”

Lainie smiles at her grandsons’ uncontained excitement. “Yes, of course,” she tells them. “But remember that you promised me to be calm around all the puppies? They’re still babies, you know. We can’t have you running around and disturbing them if they are napping.”

Both boys nod eagerly.

Sometimes, when she is spending time with the two of them Lainie can’t help being strongly reminded of her own sons at that age.

Mateo and Oliver are not as close in age as Clay and Justin, who are only roughly half a year apart, made possible by the fact that Justin wasn’t born as one of their own. He came along when he was five, an unexpected gift to all of their lives. And yet, when he and Clay were that young, their small age gap tended to confuse people, because coincidence had it that they looked alike in a way that no one would have thought that they weren’t biological siblings.

Her grandsons are one and a half years apart, and while Mateo, the elder, is the quieter and more serious of the two, very much taking after his dad in many ways, Oliver is a little whirlwind.

Mateo is creative, enjoys drawing or coming up with self-invented stories about his favorite book or tv characters. Oliver is the more outgoing one — he loves to entertain the people around him, charm them with his wit. He reminds Lainie of the boys’ uncle — even though there is no blood relation between the two of them.

Oliver had already run up and down the path to the entrance several times by the time Lainie got to the door. She knocks and a moment later a teenage girl opens up, holding a tiny furry ball in her arms. She smiles.

“You’re here for Toto, right?” she asks, holding out the little puppy for all of them to see.

Mateo looks at the baby pet, his eyes wide, but it’s Oliver who instantly reaches out a hand, his eyes wide in awe. “Can I touch him?” he asks, bouncing up and down on his heels.

“Careful,” the girl says with a gentle laugh. “He’s still a baby.”

“Can I hold him?” Mateo asks, and the girl nods, laying the furry body into his outstretched arms. “He’s so cute.”

Lainie chuckles, watching as her grandsons kneel on the floor, petting the little puppy. Then she turns her attention to the girl. “We bought everything on the list you emailed and scheduled an appointment with the vet as well. Anything else that we need to worry about?”

The girl chuckles. “My dad sent the email. He’s not here, but I'll go get my brother. He can handle everything.”

She disappears through a door and a moment later she returns with a young man in tow, about the same age as Lainie’s sons. He’s tall and blonde and vaguely familiar from somewhere.

“That’s Mrs. Jensen — she’s here for Toto,” the girl introduces Lainie.

Curiously, Lainie offers a hand. “Have we met before?” she asks, knowing that if she doesn’t ask her brain would just keep trying to figure it out and wouldn’t give it a rest.

The young man laughs. “Oh … yeah, I think I went to high school with your sons … Justin and… and Clay, was it?” He shakes the offered hand. “I’m Charlie St. George. I played football with Justin for a little while. Until he quit the sport.” He puts an arm around the girl. “My half-sister, June.”

Lainie acknowledges the information with a broad smile and, following Charlie’s invitation, she accompanies the two into the kitchen to get the business part done while her grandsons remain in the hall, playing with the puppy.

—

Friday nights are usually slow for Justin.

When he was in his twenties he would go out to a club or a bar on Friday evening, hang out with friends or colleagues or make new acquaintances, but since he turned thirty a year ago he started noticing that he preferred staying in on Friday nights, needing increasingly more time to recuperate from a busy week at work. It irritated him a bit at first but at some point he decided that there is nothing wrong with watching a movie alone, or spending time playing cards with Chris and Bear, the forty-something year old gay couple who live across the hall.

Tonight, however, Justin hadn’t even asked if his neighbors were available, feeling too tired. It had been a long week, sending him from one end of his sales area to the complete opposite, visiting clients.

So he's sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table, watching a mindless tv show — nothing really sparked his interest so he might as well watch this. He had grabbed his phone a few times to scroll through his contacts, but every time he put back down, not finding it in him to text or call anyone and see what they’re up to.

He had just laid the device back on the table for the fourth or fifth time when it starts vibrating.

Incoming call, unknown caller.

With a huff Justin reaches for his phone to stare at the screen. For a few seconds, he just weighs it in his hands. Part of him doesn’t want to answer, but another part can’t help being curious. He sighs, and finally swipes his thumb over the screen to accept the call.

“Justin?”

It’s Tamara’s voice. But it wasn’t her phone number. Maybe a new one, he tells himself.

“Hi,” he says.

He doesn’t know how to feel about hearing her voice. She hadn’t been in touch since she told him about Ella — and that was weeks ago.

He doesn’t get to figure it out.

Because something is very wrong. He can hear Tamara breathing on the other end of the line and it sounds as if she was in distress.

“I need your help,” she says finally.

“What? What’s going on?”

“He’s here.”

Confused, Justin furrows his brows. “Who’re you talking about, Tamara?”

“He’s here, Justin,” she repeats, still not offering an explanation as to whom she is talking about and what they could want from her.

But then she doesn’t have to — because then it kind of just falls into place. Justin sits up on his couch, then gets to his feet. He doesn’t need to ask again, for some strange reason, his brain manages to figure out the story on its own. “You’re talking about Bobby —”

“Yes,” she replies hoarsely. “I left him and I knew he wouldn’t just let me do that.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m with a friend, but Bobby found out. He knocked a few times and yelled for us to come out. Now he’s sitting in his car outside the building. He’s going to sit there until I come back home with him."

“Call the police. He’s stalking you. That’s illegal.”

Tamara doesn’t answer.

“Tamara, you need to call for help.”

“I got Ella here with me,” she says tonelessly.

“Good.”

“Don’t you get it, though?” she almost snaps at him. “Bobby’s her dad. He’s the one on her birth certificate. He’s got rights. I kidnapped her, withheld her from him. I can’t call the fucking cops. I’m glad he hasn’t called them yet.”

“Jesus.” For a moment Justin stands still, the words still bouncing around in his head, his brain unable to make sense of them. Then he says, “text me the address. I’m on my way.”

He doesn’t care that he’s wearing a pair of stained sweatpants and a t-shirt with a thumb sized hole under one arm. He just grabs his car keys and a hoody against the evening chill and shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers. He’s halfway down the steps, taking two at a time, when he turns around and skips back up. He knocks a fist against the apartment door opposite his own and a couple of seconds later Bear, whose real name is Benjamin, opens up, looking surprised.

“I need your help,” Justin says. “Can you grab Chris and bring your keys? I have a friend who is in trouble. Her husband … she, uh, she is being stalked. I’m going to pick her up.”

Bear’s expression changed from surprised to confused to determined as he listened. “Chris is out tonight. But I’m with you.”

Justin nods, relieved. Standing six foot three and weighing over 220 pounds, Bear doesn’t have his nickname for no reason. Having him on their side in a situation like this will surely help.

The ride feels like it takes forever, but when Justin pulls up at the address Tamara gave him, he immediately takes notice of a dark SUV, parked right in front of the building entrance, and a dark figure leaning against the vehicle.

Justin hadn’t ever met Bobby, and the few times he had been in touch with Tamara she hadn’t really mentioned him much. Maybe he should have been suspicious of how she evaded every question about him. But it doesn't matter now.

Up close the guy doesn’t really appear all that intimidating. He’s about Justin’s height, broad shoulders, a conventionally attractive face and dark hair that is receding a little around the temples. He is wearing an expensive looking suit, and he fixates Justin with a cold stare as he passes.

For a moment, time seems to slow down and the world narrows down to just the two of them. Their eyes are locked on each other. He knows, Justin thinks, and it sends a shudder down his spine, he knows why I’m here.

He shouldn’t have a reason to be scared of the guy. But his nervous system clearly didn’t get the message — the situation is making him sweat and his hands shake. He tries to reason with himself, telling himself that he could easily take on Bobby, if it came down to it. But it doesn’t help to calm his nerves.

Bobby doesn’t move. After he watches Justin pass by, his eyes fall on Bear and he remains standing where he is.

Bear stops at the front entrance. “You go up and get them, I’m keeping an eye on that dude,” he announces, loud enough for Bobby to hear.

Justin agrees with a nod and moves forward into the apartment house.

Finding the right door is easy. They must’ve noticed their arrival, eagerly waiting for them to come. A woman about Justin’s age sticks her head out the door. Dark red curls frame her petite face. “She’s here,” she says, her voice surprisingly cold.

“Can I come in?” he asks tentatively.

Tamara’s friend gives a curt nod and steps aside.

Inside her small apartment there is chaos. A bag and a rucksack lying in the middle of the room, baby toys scattered around, remains of a pizza still on the table. Tamara is in a corner, sitting on the couch feeding her daughter and giving him an apologetic look.

Justin sends a brief smile to acknowledge her presence but then he turns to Tamara’s friend. “What about you?” he asks. “Are you also coming with us? I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you here in this place as long as the guy’s still out there.”

She nods. “I don’t think I can stay here by myself, watching him pace up and down the sidewalk.” Her eyes narrow on Justin. “I’d rather tag along, make sure Tamara’s safe with you.”

Justin swallows at the accusing tone. She’s definitely distrustful towards him, and while part of him feels offended, he knows that he probably can’t blame her for being suspicious.

So he swallows his own upset feelings down and makes a suggestion. “Okay, here’s what we can do. When you’re both ready to leave, we’ll grab your stuff and put it all in my friend’s car. And I’m taking the three of you in my car. You can spend the night, and tomorrow I can take you and Ella to Sacramento so you can stay with your parents, Tam.”

Tamara's eyes widen as she looks up at him. “Fuck, no.” It comes out quick and harsh and very determined.

Justin raises his brows, surprised.

“Sorry … but really — I can't go there,” Tamara adds in a softer tone. “First thing they’ll do is call Bobby and have him pick me and Ella up from there. They don’t believe in … failed marriage.”

It takes a moment to let that sink in, a moment that Justin spends willing himself not to focus on how complicated things might end up. “So we’ll have to figure something else out, then,” he finally concludes. “Maybe I can help with that — my mom’s a lawyer — but for now we focus on getting you away from this place.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Tamara says quietly. After that it’s eerily quiet for a moment until Tamara’s gentle voice breaks the silence again, her eyes focused on Justin. “Ella is done feeding. Do you, um, you wanna hold her for a moment?”

He does. Despite the dire situation they are in, he really does want to hold her.

With a smile Tamara stands up to come over. Gently, she lifts Ella into his arms and to his surprise, the little girl chuckles in delight. One of her tiny hands curls around the fabric of Justin’s sweater, the other goes into her mouth and is soon covered in a mix of drool and milk. A moment later she hiccups a mouthful of that concoction onto Justin’s shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” Tamara says, holding out her arms to have Ella back so he can clean up.

“I don’t mind a stain,” Justin replies and wipes the remains of milk off Ella’s little chin with his sleeve. “I’ve had my nephews spit, pee and poop on me before.” He shrugs. “I could hold her for way longer if you’d let me, but, unfortunately, I’m afraid it’s better to get going. Let’s not wait until Bobby decides to bring in the cops for attempted kidnapping.”

Bear is waiting for them in the hallway. He meets them halfway up the stairs to help Justin carry the bags to the car. With Tamara and her friend Lucy in the middle, they make their way out of the building.

Again, the moment it takes to pass by Tamara’s husband feels stretched out far longer than it actually is, and Justin wonders how much worse it must feel for Tamara.

“He’s not going to accept it,” she mutters from the back seat inside the car as if she had read Justin’s thoughts. “He‘s never going to accept me leaving.”

Involuntarily Justin’s fingers grip the steering wheel a little harder as he pulls the car onto the street, almost to the point where his hand muscles are so taut that they cramp up.

He knows that Tamara is right.

This won't be the last they see of Bobby.

—

On Saturday morning Lainie wakes up to a text from Justin. It’s still early, and she blinks a few times, unable to fathom why her son would be up this early on a Saturday morning. Unless he’s got to attend a work related event, and in that case she would probably know about it because he would have mentioned it at some point, he’s not likely to be up and about before nine.

So why would he be sending her a text this early?

Unable to read the small figures on her phone without the help of her reading glasses, it takes a moment until she can decipher the message.

I might need some legal advice. Kinda urgent. Can you call me when you’re awake?

Shaking her head Lainie pulls off the reading glasses and lets herself flop back down on her pillow.

He needs legal advice? Is this maybe about the child he had been talking about a few weeks ago? She hadn’t heard anything about that in a while — though not for lack of asking. Also, if it's not about that, what else could it be?

His only ever significant conflict with the law was a case of wrongful termination with his first employer after he reported sexual harassment that had occurred within the workplace with both, managers and customers, and had been an open secret, tolerated by the company for years.

With a yawn Lainie picks her phone up once more. The text came in at 0:37 she noticed, so basically in the middle of the night. A time that, as far as she can tell, is not an unusual time for her son to be up on a Friday — but it’s unusual that he would contact her at this time.

Lainie glances over at Matt‘s side of the bed, not surprised to see it empty already, the covers neatly in place.

He hadn’t been sleeping well in weeks, if not months. But Matt being Matt, he probably tiptoed out of the room without a sound, letting her rest.

She finds him in the kitchen, sitting at the table, a cup of coffee steaming on the table in front of him and his tablet in hand. He’s reading the news or checking out the latest bestseller list. In the corner behind him their new family member Toto is curled up in his basket, sleeping.

“Hey,” Lainie says, smiling. “Have you been here long?”

“Not long enough for the coffee I made us to go cold,” he replies, laying the device on the table. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” She touches his shoulder as she passes by behind him to get herself a mug from the kitchen cupboard. “Justin has been texting, saying he needed legal advice. At 0:37 in the morning.” She pauses. “You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you?”

Matt looks up, surprised. “I can’t imagine.”

Lainie pulls out a chair for herself to sit down. “I don’t want to think he is, either. But … I don't know. It’s a weird time to be texting that, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you just call him?” Matt asks, sounding unexpectedly impatient.

Taken aback by her husband’s reaction Lainie raises brows. He isn’t usually this moody, not even this early in the morning. She touches his arm across the table, wordlessly urging him to acknowledge her surprise at his sharp tone.

He gets the message, she thinks, because he sighs and apologizes. “I’m sorry, Lain, I didn't mean to snap at you. It’s just … never mind.“ He clears his throat. “Call him so you’ll know. Then you won’t have to worry about it all the time.” He smiles at her but something about it seems off.

Something is bothering him.

But she has known him long enough to know and respect that he will come to share it with her in his own time. So she decides to contact her son first.

But when she does it just rings to voicemail.

—

The first thing Tamara realizes when she wakes up is that Ella isn’t where she should be.

She had fallen asleep very late last night and as a result, she realizes with a look at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, she had slept almost until noon.

After a lengthy discussion and multiple reassurances that Tamara and Ella would be safe with Justin, they had dropped Lucy off at her parents’ house on the way. When they arrived at Justin’s place a little later, Tamara had sat on the couch, exhausted from everything that had happened, while he changed the sheets for her in the bedroom. Ella was asleep already, curled up in Tamara’s lap, thumb in her mouth.

Once in bed, however, Tamara laid awake half the night, trying to figure out what was going to happen next. So no wonder she overslept.

Logic tells her that her daughter can’t be far. The fact that she isn’t in the bed leaves only one explanation, really, because if she had fallen out, Tamara would have heard. So somebody must’ve taken her out of the bed. And the only person who could have done that is Justin.

Holding her head against a beginning headache, Tamara throws the covers aside and crosses the room to open the door.

She needn’t have worried, because there they are.

Quietly, Tamara steps into the room and clears her throat. Justin looks up when he hears her, smiling abashedly. He is carrying Ella with one arm that’s curled around her small body and the other hand is resting on her middle protectively, so she can’t fall.

“You scared me,” Tamara says, walking over to offer to take her daughter from him. “I woke up and she wasn’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies. “I heard her crying this morning when I was about to go for a run. You were dead to the world — no offense, you had every reason to be — so I picked her up before she could wake you.”

Tamara shakes her head, feeling a sudden pang of motherly guilt. “I usually wake up the second she makes a peep. When did you pick her up?”

“Like, two hours ago, maybe?” He glances at his watch. “I cleaned her up, fed her and got her to drink a bit of water and then we took a little walk outside.” He points at the baby carrier, lying on the back of the couch, all straps undone. “I texted you, though, so you wouldn’t worry.”

“My phone died.” Tamara raises her eyebrows at the baby carrier. “You know how to use these things?”

Justin doesn’t respond right away. He tickles Ella a little with his free hand, then finally places her back into Tamara’s arms. “She’s so sweet,” he says quietly.

They sit on the couch, watching Ella play with her teething toy.

“When my nephew Oliver was born, my sister-in-law went into real deep postpartum depression,” Justin explains. “It was all my brother could do to keep her and the baby alive, so the rest of the family had to step up and take care of the baby’s older brother. Mateo was a little older than Ella is now, but it’s basically the same thing.” He lowers his voice. “I hope it’s okay I tended to her. I didn’t ask for your consent, but I figured you’d be better off sleeping a little longer.”

Tamara nods slowly. “I’ll be honest, I have mixed feelings about it.”

But I want to trust you.

“Which completely understandable, given how your husband scared you last night —“

The mention of Bobby causes an instant rising sensation of anxiety that makes it impossible for her to reply. Instead she takes a look around.

She’s in a small apartment, clean and tidy. The furniture looks new and modern. There’s a little kitchenette, a large tv and a few cupboards lining the walls. In a corner she notices a stack of boxes with a company logo printed on them next to a small desk with a laptop sitting on top.

The place looks more practical than actually lived in. There are not a lot of personal decorations, just a couple of framed family pictures on the wall. It looks like it had just been moved into. Tamara remembers that Justin had told her that he was away a lot, working in sales which meant driving around a lot and spending nights in hotels if need be.

Tamara clears her throat. “Look,” she says, quietly, “I don’t know how to explain to you what was going on with Bobby. He’s … I dunno. I feel like he’s been trying to control me for years. I just took a long time to realize that. Lucy helped me.”

“So we have to work out a way to get you out of his control,” Justin replies.

“That’s not gonna be easy, though,” Tamara sighs. “Remember, technically I kidnapped Ella from our home. He’s officially her dad, I can't deny him access to his child.” She hesitates. “That’s where you come in, really.”

“‘cos I’m Ella’s biological father,” he concludes.

Tamara nods. “Yes. I kinda hope that … well, if a test proves that you’re the father — or rather, that Bobby isn’t — I think that it will be an advantage to get full custody if we divorce. That’ll mean I won’t have to worry about dealing with him anymore.”

Justin regards her with a guarded expression and she wonders what is going on behind that. She already saw how tender and lovingly he was with Ella, and it probably isn’t too big a stretch to expect him to at least wish for some sort of relationship with her himself, even if he isn’t saying it out loud at this moment.

But that is something she will have to figure out later.

“My mom’s a lawyer,” he suggests, finally breaking the silence that had fallen. “She’s not in family law, but she might be able to offer advice or recommend someone.”

Tamara chews on her lip. “I appreciate the offer. But I can't take her advice. It might lead to conflict of interests.”

“Why?”

“‘cos … well, look. I want full custody. And if you’re the father, you might want to decide at some point that you want more access to Ella as well. And then your mother or anyone she recommended might switch sides and work against my interests.”

Justin doesn’t respond instantly but then he offers her a smile. “I’m not planning on taking your child away from you,” he says.

“You say that now, but I’m pretty sure that you are going to want access at some point,” Tamara repeats. “And don't get me wrong, that is not a bad thing. I just … I want to be in charge.”

“Access? She’s not a property,” he replies quietly.

She will be — once the fight over custody begins.

“But I do want to be a part of her life,” he adds.

“See? That’s what I meant,” she replies.

He looks at her for a long moment, as if not knowing what to say to that. Finally he sighs, running a hand through his hair and then shaking his head. “I’m not planning on making things harder for you,” he tells her. “I want to help you.”

“Then stay on the sideline and let me work things out,” she insists.

Give me a reason to trust you enough to include you in Ella’s life.

He still seems hesitant about how to react, but then he nods. “Yeah, okay. Just let me know what I can do and I will do that.” He walks over to the kitchen area. “You want breakfast? Ella and I already ate, but if you’re hungry I can make you something.”

“Not at the moment.”

“Okay.” He shrugs. “I meant to go for a run this morning, if that’s okay with you? It’ll … uh, give the two of you a little space.” He hesitates. “Or do you … prefer for me to stay? I mean … Bobby doesn’t know where I live, he can’t find you here. But if something’s off — I spoke to Chris and Bear, my neighbors, earlier. They’re both home so you’d just have to knock on their door —“

“I’s fine, just go ahead,” Tamara smiles. “We’re good.”

She watches him disappear into the bedroom she had slept in earlier and come back out five minutes later, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, both of which have the same company logo on them as the boxes in the corner.

“You can help yourself to anything you’d like in the kitchen if you change your mind,” he offers. “Or I can grab something for you on the way. There’s a coffee shop around the corner —“

Tamara smiles and raises her hand for a wave. “I’m good.”

“Okay.”

Once he is out, Tamara sighs, staring at the door that just fell shut behind him. It’s going to be hard, she realizes, to not lean on him too much during all the difficult times that she is looking at. Because right now, she will have to work on her independence.

But there is no denying that she is still very attracted to him.

—

Clay hadn’t been able to give the possibility that his dad could have blood cancer any thought at all. If he had it would be such a suffocating experience that he wouldn’t have been able to make it through his day to day life. It’s not yet a proven fact and so he decided that, as long as there is room for hope that it’s something else, it would be best to cling to that.

It’s been two days since he learned about it — two nights with very little sleep, a constant very strong pressure on his chest, impacting his ability to breathe freely.

But sitting at the table after lunch, his head pounding from lack of sleep and his eyes unable to focus, he gives into his desire to not keep this burden to himself any longer. He needs to share it with his wife.

He and Hannah had gone through a week of being distanced with each other, trying to avoid unnecessary fights but also unable to leave behind the accusations Clay made about her lying to him.

But even if maybe she isn’t the right person to comfort him now, she needs to at least know what is going on. She needs to understand why he is more anxious and nervous than usual, why he might end up being short tempered with her or the boys.

So he takes a chance when their sons are in their room, engaged in one of their games that no one understands other than themselves.

“It’s your turn doing the dishes,” Hannah says, reaching for her drink and her phone to get settled on the couch.

“I’ll do it in a minute,” Clay replies. He looks down at his hands on the table, fingers of his right hand tapping nervously on the surface. “I need to talk to you about something first. I wasn’t sure how to approach this … still am not, really, but —“

Hannah glances up from her phone and sends him a sour smile. “Can we not start this again today? I need a break, Clay, my week was pretty rough.”

Clay raises his head to meet her eyes. “My dad might have cancer,” he just blurts out, unable to stop the word from coming. “So … well, my week was rough, too, I guess.”

The revelation makes Hannah freeze for a moment, her eyes wide. Despite all that had been going wrong between them lately, she had always been very fond of Clay’s family. “What?” she gasps. “What … how long have you known?”

Clay shrugs, looking down at his hands again. “Couple days. It’s not a hundred percent certain yet, they need to do a few more tests. But the diagnosis seems pretty likely.” He pauses for a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do, Hannah.”

“Clay, that’s awful,” she replies, sitting back down at the table with him and laying her phone aside. “Did they say, like … is it treatable?”

“I don’t know all that just yet,” Clay replies.

Hannah reaches out a hand to gently grab his forearm. It’s almost more physical affection than he can take at this moment but he lets her do it. It’s probably comforting for her.

“How’d Lainie react?” she asks him softly. “I mean, she must be very worried —“

“She doesn’t know, yet. Neither does Justin. Only me and Dad so far. And now you.”

Hannah swallows. “That’s awful,” she repeats.

They sit together like this for a long while, just listening to each other breathing, neither saying anything. Finally Hannah asks into the silence, “when will he know for sure?”

“He has an appointment on Monday for a biopsy. After that, it’ll be pretty certain, I think.”

“And then?”

“He’ll probably start treatment. They scheduled an appointment with a treatment center already,” Clay explains. Hannah’s hand is still on his arm, but it’s starting to feel heavy, so he carefully pulls away from the touch. “He said, if the diagnosis will be confirmed on Monday he will need to start treatment as soon as possible.”

Hannah nods. “I’m sure he’s in good hands,” she offers, timidly. “He’ll make it through.”

Clay glances up, his eyes searching hers. “He has to. I’m not ready to live in a world without my dad in it. And neither is my mom, I’m afraid. Or Justin.”

“Or me and the boys,” Hannah adds with a deep sigh.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have a job, do you?” Justin asks Tamara on Sunday afternoon. “Or do you have to go to work tomorrow?”

Tamara shakes her head. “No. I gave up on my career before Ella was born.”

“You never told me what you did for a living.”

Tamara doesn’t look eager to answer the question. She is walking around his living room, chasing after Ella as she explores the apartment on all fours, pulling herself into a standing position from time to time when there is an opportunity.

According to Clay’s suggestion Justin had taken some of the boxed up baby stuff he had found at his brother’s, mostly clothes and toys. Most of the toys are now spread out in his living room to keep the toddler busy — a treasure to uncover behind every corner.

Meanwhile he can talk to Tamara without too much interruption. They need a plan.

Tamara takes a rattle her daughter hands her after discovering it underneath the coffee table and hides it again. “I’m a certified nurse-midwife. But Bobby convinced me that I should stay at home.” She pauses to kneel down and retrieve a toy that Ella had accidentally shoved too far underneath the couch to reach it on her own. “We had trouble having children.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks down, her face frozen into a pained expression. “I … uh, I had a few miscarriages. He said I needed to stop working, so I would be less stressed.” She pauses, giving him a brief, shameful glance. “Looking back, I think I lost those pregnancies because I was stressed out from being scared of him.”

“But when you were pregnant with Ella —“

“He was different then,” Tamara explains. She is chewing on her bottom lip, avoiding Justin’s eyes. “For once he wasn’t short tempered or shaming me. Still controlling, but less frightening. It didn’t last, though.”

“And … like … he wasn’t mad at you for cheating on him?”

Tamara doesn’t respond and Justin frowns — this is getting weird. There is something she’s not telling him.

But since she doesn’t seem ready to elaborate, he decides to swallow down the sense of uneasiness and change the topic back to looking at the future. “You said you wanted independence, so you will probably have to get a job. And a nanny for Ella, or she’ll have to go to some sort of day care. I mean …” he pauses, unsure if he should go ahead and share what he is thinking, “if you allow me in Ella’s life I might also be of help.”

“He wanted a child at all costs,” Tamara says instead of answering. There’s shame in her downcast eyes and Justin notices that the tension between them increased. “We tried IVF and it always ended in miscarriage. At one point the doctors said that we might not be compatible, as in, you know — genetically. Apparently, that happens sometimes. So Bobby said someone else might be compatible.”

Justin stares at her, not quite sure what to make of her words. 

“Hold on — did he make you sleep with me?”

She doesn’t confirm it verbally but that in itself is enough of an answer.

“Isn’t that, like, prostitution?” he asks. “I mean … did it feel like that to you?” The thought makes his stomach cramp up.

It’s not the possibility that maybe she didn’t enjoy their encounter that bothers him. He’s had sex with women before that ended in one of them breaking it off because they weren’t as into it as they thought before. 

He can handle the thought that maybe he isn’t the greatest lover that walks around on this earth — not to Tamara and not to anyone else — but what really bothers him is that she obviously didn’t choose to have sex with him. She was exploited, by her husband, and — in a way, though unknowingly — by Justin as well.

And that is about the worst thing that he can think of ever having done to anyone.

Tamara must have realized how much the thought is disturbing him. “It wasn’t like that to me,” she says quietly. “It was just sex, Justin. Two adults who were attracted to each other having sex. Nothing else.”

“But it was sex you didn’t decide for yourself to have.” Her clarifying words did nothing to ease his mind. She didn’t want to sleep with him, or at the very least, the decision wasn’t entirely hers. Her husband made it. From her point of view that isn’t anything else but a conscious and willing sexual assault.

“How can you not be mad at me — I used you,” she says, her voice barely audible.

But Justin shakes his head, looking down at the ground, unable to meet her eyes. “No. I used you.”

Because I wanted it.

I enjoyed it.

Tamara looks at him for a long moment, her hand fumbling with the fabric of her dress. “It’s worse, even. I, um … I tore the condom,” she admits. “I was hoping that I would get pregnant. I wasn’t expecting it to happen, but somehow it did.”

Now he raises his head, eyes wide. This was already wild a moment ago but the last revelation is making his head spin. The effects of having spend half the night up to entertain a very much awake Ella and allow Tamara to rest, aren’t helping, either.

Everything is totally messed up and he can’t get anything straight. Why does her husband want her to have a baby with another guy? And how did it make her feel? She’s not a breeding machine.

And why did she choose him? Or did Bobby choose him?

“Justin?”

Her voice pulls him back from the chaos in his head to the present conversation.

“Did you hear me?”

He finally looks her in the eyes. “I think what we need to do now is get you a job,“ he announces, hoping that she won’t hear the quiver in his voice. “And an apartment.”

Tamara regards him, her head tipped slightly to the side. “I just asked you if you’re okay —“

He hesitates. “Yeah … uh, no, I mean … I’m better off than you obviously.” He closes his eyes, wills himself to focus on present issues. “Do you … do you have a bank account?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replies softly. “Bobby doesn’t know but I’ve been saving up a little money. It’s not a lot, though.”

“I could lend you some,” Justin offers.

Before Tamara gets a chance to reply Ella knocks her head against the table surface while trying to pull herself up onto her feet. Her laughing expression changes to a mixture of shock and confusion for a second, then she starts to cry. Tamara picks her up, rocks her in her arms for a moment. The pain eases quickly and the toddler wrestles herself free again to continue exploring.

Tamara watches her crawl away, then looks back at Justin, shaking her head. “No, I’d rather not … not be dependent on you —“

Justin had already expected that answer. “What about … if I take the test and it’s proven that I’m Ella’s father … wouldn’t I owe you a couple month’s worth of alimonies?”

She frowns. “I told you that I used you for sex — and that is what you offer?”

Justin swallows. “I … uh … I don't feel used, Tam. I wanted you.”

“That’s how you see it?” she asks quietly.

“I dunno. But that’s how it feels.” He takes a few deep breaths. “You know I was always into you? Since college. That night … I really enjoyed it. I had a good time with you. While you were forced into it — even if not by me … I still feel … like I was part of that —“

Tamara doesn’t reply. She looks at him with a blank expression that he can’t read. Then she says, “I’ll accept the money if it’s alimonies. But we have to go through the legal process first. That’s gonna take a few days at the very least. I need a roof over my head until then.”

“You probably don’t want to stay here,” he says.

Tamara shakes her head. “Sorry.”

Justin nods. “Thought so. Look, how’bout this — my brother has that carriage house in his backyard that my parents turned into a one room apartment back when Clay and I were in high school. It has turned into a bit of a storage space. But I’d help you make room enough for you to stay there for a couple weeks. At least until you have a job and can afford something better.”

Tamara hesitates. “For rent? I don’t know how long I can pay for but a month should be okay —“

“Yeah. I think he’ll agree.” Hopefully, he adds in thoughts. “There’s just one thing… it’s in Evergreen, two hours away from here.”

“I know, you mentioned that all of your family lives there,” she replies. “Can you ask him?”

He exhales, feeling slightly dizzy. “Consider it done.”

—

Clay looks at his phone — three missed calls from Justin. It’s Sunday, early in the afternoon and unless he has his nephews for the weekend, Clay’s brother isn’t usually available to talk at this time — either curing a hangover or still having his latest conquest over to entertain.

Justin doesn’t really say it out loud but Clay knows that despite the outward comfort of his playboy life his brother is actually looking for the same thing Clay and Hannah have.

Only, Clay isn’t even so sure anymore what they have.

The news of his dad’s potentially life threatening illness had brought them a little closer to together again, but it hadn’t solved the problems between them.

Clay huffs, raising his head to stare at the photograph of him and Hannah on the wall for a minute. It was taken during their honeymoon. They were so happy on that day, Hannah was already pregnant with Mateo, and they felt like nothing could ever get between them.

Where did that feeling go?

Shaking his head, Clay lowers his head back to his phone screen. Whatever his brother wants from him, it must be important, if he calls more than once. But when he finally gets to call back it’s a female voice that answers. “Hi, is that Clay?”

“Um … yeah?” he answers, confused.

“Uh, good,” she says. “I’m Tamara, I’m friends with your brother.”

“Tamara?” he swallows, biting his lip.“Why’re you answering Justin’s phone?”

“He’s asleep. I’m at his place,” she says as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Frowning to himself Clay continues, “He tried to call me several times.” He pauses. “Why —“

— are you at his place? And why is he sleeping while you’re there?

“It’s complicated,” Tamara replies, clearly sensing his confusion. “All I can say is that he has been a great help to me these past two days.” She breathes in, a long deep breath that makes it sound like she is nervous and trying to gather the courage to say whatever she is going to say. “Look, I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend, but I’m in need of a place to stay for a couple weeks.” She waits a moment, giving Clay time to digest the information. “Justin mentioned that you have that … like, outhouse? The place you two slept in when you were younger?”

“Uh —“ Unsure what to say, Clay hesitates. “You mean —“

“I was wondering if you would be willing to rent it out for a month or so. I can’t pay much, but I just need to get on my feet. Get a job, find a better place —“

Clay shakes his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I never thought about that. It’s a bit of a chaos in there to be honest, boxes and stuff we don’t need or use at the moment. I dunno if you’d feel comfortable living in between all that —“

“I just need a roof over my head. I’ll be outta your hair in no time. I promise.”

Clay pulls his brows together. “I’d have to ask my wife if she’s okay with it. I mean … we have kids and with people they don’t know living this close by —“

“Ella’s cousins,” Tamara confirms, and it’s only then that Clay remembers.

With everything else going on with Dad and Hannah’s and his own marriage problems he hadn’t had much time to think about the news Justin had shared with him earlier this year, about having a daughter with Tamara he hadn’t known about. It’s been weeks since he had last heard about that but still — it should have clicked instantly when she answered the phone, it should have been the first thing on his mind really, but then again — as Justin keeps telling him in that loving voice of his — for a straight A student Clay can be very slow in real life.

“Clay, are you still there?

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll talk to Hannah and call you back later,” he finally promises.

—

When the door bell chimes after dinner time on Monday, Lainie frowns. Who would come by this late on a Monday?

Matt, however, does not seem surprised at all.

“Were you expecting anyone?” she asks him.

Her husband sends her an abashed glance. “Yeah, the boys. Justin and Clay. And Hannah.”

Lainie frowns. “Justin’s coming? On a Monday? And both Clay and Hannah? What’s with the kids?”

Matt comes over to touch her shoulder. “I have news. For all of you. Justin was in town, anyway. He said he took a couple of personal days to help a friend with something. And Clay got a babysitter tonight, so —“

It’s still a highly unusual thing. Lainie frowns. It is the kind of gathering that Matt would call for if he had something to announce, but something tells her that she is not about to receive good news. The way her husband behaved uncharacteristically erratic all day — she can’t help having a bad feeling about this.

And then, once they are all gathered around the table, Matt comes out with devastating news.

Blood cancer.

Immediate treatment necessary.

Hospitalization and chemotherapy.

Lainie listens to it all, trying to digest the meaning behind what Matt is saying. It's only words, for now, and they keep bouncing around in her head. The meaning, the full impact hadn’t come to her yet. It will likely dawn on her bit by bit in the next few weeks.

She gazes at her sons. Clay is chewing on his lip, his face is pale, his eyes are glassy. He is battling tears, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

She turns to look at Justin, whose face has taken on a stony expression and Lainie can’t tell what’s going on behind. Justin tends to push away unpleasant emotions as if they weren’t valid enough to be acknowledged, often without even being aware of it. She will have to keep an eye on him.

It’s Hannah, who first breaks the silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more sorry about hearing something than I do right now, Matt,” she says quietly, her voice deeply sad and full of genuine empathy. “I wish there was anything that I could do.”

“If there is, I’ll let you know,” Matt promises her with a soft smile. “Until then, let’s all not forget that we’re just at the beginning of this. I’m lucky that it was discovered early enough for me to have a good chance to go into remission pretty soon if I start treatment right away.”

Later, when everyone else had left, Lainie sits on the sofa, Toto in her lap, her hand absentmindedly clutching at the little puppy’s light fur. It’s comforting to have his warm little body to pet. She glances at Matt and the pit in her stomach grows. “I thought that sending you to the doctor’s would lead to relief. Instead everything is just so much worse now.”

“It would’ve ended up way worse than this if you hadn’t made me go see the doctor, love,” Matt tells her, letting himself sink down next to her. “I only stand a chance because of that.”

It’s quiet until Lainie can’t take the tension anymore. “Oh love,” she says, having no words for her feelings. “I don’t know how we can do this.”

“We need to just take one step at a time,” he replies.

Lainie nods, not knowing if she will be strong enough.

—

Waiting for her coffee machine to finish preparing her afternoon caffeine hit, Hannah looks out the window, watching curiously as her and Clay’s new tenant leaves the outhouse.

Tamara has her eleven month old in the carrier and a rucksack on her back. Her curly blonde hair is tied into a messy ponytail and mostly hidden underneath her baseball cap — it probably hadn’t seen a brush all day. The look of it reminds Hannah of herself during the first year after each of her own kids were born.

She also notes with some surprise that Tamara is very much on the curvy side. She doesn’t seem like the type of woman that Justin tends to attract the attention of. But then Hannah shakes her head at the thought, telling herself not to be judgmental about another woman’s appearance. 

When Clay and Justin approached Hannah to explain Tamara’s situation, she agreed almost immediately to the idea that Tamara should stay in the outhouse for rent until she finds a job and a more suitable place, both of which would be needed if she wanted to win a potential custody battle.

When Tamara passes by the window, Hannah opens it up to catch the other woman’s attention. “Hey Tamara.”

She smiles down at her, receiving a curious look back.

“Do you need anything?” Hannah asks. “Groceries, diapers, anything? I’m going to the Walplex later.”

Tamara regards her for a second, eyes shadowed by her baseball cap in a way that Hannah can’t quite look into them. “Um … yes, I might need a package of diapers. Just, um …” she hesitates, “well to put it bluntly … I can't afford the expensive brands.”

Hannah nods. “No worries, I never bought the expensive brands for my sons, either. Anything else I can get you?”

“No, I’m headed to the store myself right now to grab a few things to eat. But I'd still be happy if you could get those diapers for me. They are too heavy to carry on foot with all the rest.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Hannah waves a hand. “I’m picking my sons up from my mother’s when I get off work, and then we’re doing the shopping on the way back.” She rolls her eyes, chuckling. “Meaning I will be tied to the candy shelf for half an hour to watch my kids escalate because I don’t want to buy anything,” she shrugs, “but that’s normal.”

“Um … I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience,” Tamara replies instantly but Hannah dismisses her concerns with a casual hand gesture.

Down below Tamara caresses the head of her daughter, who seems to be asleep in the carrier. A cute woolen hat covers most of the still frizzy dark strands but some spill out at the sides. The baby hasn’t inherited her mom’s hair, Hannah thinks.

She also recognizes the hat. It used to be Ollie’s.

Tamara’s eyes follow her gaze, and her cheeks turn pink. “I hope it’s alright I borrowed the hat? I forgot to pack one for Ella, but it’s so windy out today. Clay said I could have a look, see if there was anything I needed in those boxes inside the house.” She points back at the outhouse.

“Sure.”

Hannah hopes that Tamara took no notice of the brief hesitation.

She doesn’t mind giving to someone in need, but neither Clay nor Tamara could know what deep meaning that particular hat has for her. She had had a difficult time with Oliver, being so deeply depressed after his birth. The bond that should have been there instantly between mother and child, it needed to be built up slowly and with a determination that she had difficulty finding.

But once things got better, one day she took him out on a walk, just the two of them, finally feeling that bond. She bought that hat for him that day.

But she swallows her hesitation down and changes the subject. “So … you and Justin … are you two getting along? I mean … not trying to pry but … is he supporting you?”

Tamara shrugs abashedly. “Yeah. But honestly? I feel like I barely really know him. He’s a friend from college that I once had a one night stand with. Before that we hadn’t spoken in years.” She runs a palm over her eyes, looking very tired. “Plus, right now I believe that Justin and Clay are both very much preoccupied with their father being so sick.”

“Yeah, they are.” Hannah nods, trying to not let the uneasy jolt in her stomach at thinking about her father-in-law’s illness bring her down. She clears her throat. “Either way, you’re welcome to rent the outhouse for as long as you need.”

—

“Are you all packed?” Lainie asks her husband, trying to keep her voice steady and not let her emotions get the better of her.

It’s a very new and difficult situation for both of them, Matt looking at a few weeks of hospitalization, away from his comfort zone at home and likely going to feel terribly ill most of the time. The last thing he needs, though, is seeing his wife fall apart in front of him.

She has all the time in the world for that once she has delivered him to the clinic.

Downstairs she can hear Toto bark and growl at his favorite toy. Justin offered to tend to him while his parents are away. He is sort of camping in their living room, anyway, having taken a few days off work to support both his parents and his friend Tamara here in Evergreen.

“All done,” Matt says, interrupting his wife’s thoughts. He’s standing in the middle of the room, his suitcase at his right, looking the same as always. Well, not quite the same, really, if she is honest. The disease had already taken a toll on him and there is no saying how much worse it’s going to get before it will get better.

For now it’s not much beyond the pallor that she had already noticed a while ago. But she has a good idea what people look like when they go through chemotherapy, and she can’t help being scared for her husband.

She draws a shaky breath. “I’ll go get Justin so he can carry the luggage.”

For a brief second it looks as if Matt was going to refuse, but then he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

Justin is more than happy to carry his dad’s suitcase. He had been stoic about all this since he learned about his father’s illness on Monday. On any other occasion, Lainie would have long since taken a moment to sit down with her youngest son to talk to him about all this, and find out where he’s at in his coping process. But Lainie hadn’t had any physical or mental capacity for anything these past few days.

“Be good, Dad,” Justin says when he gives Matt a hug goodbye after having loaded the luggage into the trunk of his parents’ car. “I don’t wanna hear about you misbehaving.”

Matt chuckles. “I can’t make guarantees, kiddo. But I’m going to do my best.”

“I’ll make sure he’ll behave,” Lainie says, her voice a little thick as she tries to keep her emotions in check. She slips behind the wheel and off they go. Through the rear view mirror she can see Justin standing on the sidewalk, looking after them with his arms crossed over his chest.

It’s not a long way to the treatment center. There is no oncologist specialist clinic in Evergreen but there are more than one in the Bay Area and the one that was recommended to Matt is only roughly thirty to forty minutes away.

During the ride Lainie can’t help glancing over to her husband again and again. She knows that he is more anxious than he is letting on. And how awful it must be to him, looking at a several weeks’ treatment period — away from home, and possibly feeling way worse than he is now as a result of chemotherapy? But at least there is a good chance that they will get him into remission very soon, she tells herself.

“He’s not that old,” the physician had said yesterday, making Matt pull a half-hearted grimace behind the man’s back, just to cheer Lainie up, “there are no relevant co-morbidities, such as heart problems or the like. It’s going to be tough, but you can beat this.”

Lainie sighs at the memory, her eyes focused on the road with determination.

“Are you going to be okay, love?” Matt asks her three hours later — after he was admitted and settled into his room. “I know it’s going to be hard, but will you promise to let me know how you really feel, even if you feel terrible?”

“Sure,” Lainie smiles tightly.

“I know you won’t let the boys see behind that facade of yours, but Lain — please promise me that you will confide in someone when you feel like it’s getting too much,” Matt insists.

“Look at you,” Lainie replies, sitting on the edge of his bed, right next to him, “I’m not the one who’s seriously ill. And still you’re trying to take care of me.”

“You’re my best friend in this world,” he replies quietly. “I hate to leave you alone with all the stuff you have to deal with. Even if it’s just for a couple weeks.”

“You take care of yourself and let me do the rest,” Lainie tells him, leaning in for a long embrace. “I’ll keep the boys in line and make sure everything’s ready for you when you come back. And I’ll visit you whenever I can.”

She leaves the hospital with tears in her eyes, her throat heavily constricted and her hands shaking so much that she sits in their car for almost a full thirty minutes until she finds it in herself to finally drive home.

—

Clay swallows the last bite of his dinner, wipes his mouth and gets up from the table. He kisses both of his sons, who’re still munching on their chicken nuggets, on the back of their heads.

There was a time he would have kissed Hannah goodbye before leaving the house to see his brother, but in the wake of their many arguments these past couple weeks he feels unsure if she would even want him to. They had never been this distant towards each other. There hadn’t been any more fights recently but the way it is right now seems even worse to him.

He grabs his jacket and slips into his shoes before leaving the house, waving a hand at his waiting brother, who had been sitting on the stairs that lead up to their door.

Toto, Mom’s new little puppy, bounces around Clay’s feet, almost making him stumble.

“Sorry,” Justin says with a bashful half grin, as he dusts off the back of his jeans. “I have, like, no fucking clue how to handle a puppy other than Mom saying he needs to go on a walk around the neighborhood to do his business.” He chuckles. “Did’ya know Mom got him from Charlie St. George?”

“Charlie — wo?”

“St. George. Tall, blonde, always eager to please?” Justin chuckles. “Dude’s practically a golden retriever himself.”

Clay thought for a moment. “The guy who got Alex Standall to out himself as bi in Senior Year?”

“That’s the one,” Justin confirms. He watches the puppy for a moment. “Pity Mom never wanted to have a pet when we were kids, don’t you think?”

“She’s had her hands full, dealing with our bullshit,” Clay provides. With your bullshit, his mind provides in addition, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Well, I wouldn't be so clueless if we had had a dog back then,” Justin says with a chuckle.

“Mom still in the hospital visiting Dad?” Clay asks.

Justin nods. “Yeah. She promoted me officially to being her dog sitter.” He hands Clay the leash. “Can you hold him for a sec? I just wanna say hi to Tamara, see if she needs anything.”

“She should be fine, Hannah just brought her some stuff back from the Walplex the other day.”

Justin shrugs and shoves the grip into Clay’s hand. “That’s good. Still — I wanna say hi. Be back in a sec.”

Clay lets out a grunt. “Fine.” Toto looks up at him, his little tongue hanging out. Clay glances back. “Quit looking at me like that,” he says, but the puppy just tilts its head to the side and pants.

He doesn’t expect his brother to be back before ten minutes but Justin rounds the corner before five.

“Everything alright?” Clay asks casually as they continue down the street, watching out for Toto to not tie their legs up as he dances around their feet.

Justin shrugs, looking somewhat distraught. “Yeah, I think so.” He sighs. “She’s kind of … I dunno … closed off? Like, not really telling me more than I need to know —“

Clay shoves his hands into his pockets. “Did you take the paternity test yet?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Justin glances over and sucks in a breath. “Well … yes. I’m Ella’s father.” He says it almost casually. Not like it’s likely the most life changing thing to ever happen to a person to become a parent. But that’s possibly only because he hadn’t really fully processed the information yet.

“So what’s Tamara going to do?”

Justin shrugs. “File for divorce. Have her husband’s name deleted from Ella’s birth certificate. Get herself a job. File for full custody. More or less in that order, I reckon.”

They turn around another corner and watch Toto pee against a tree.

“Do any of her plans involve you in any way?” Clay asks.

Justin kneels at the puppy’s side, petting its back. Then he picks the little baby dog up to carry it for a bit, probably a little fed up with having to watch out to not be stumble over the cord. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“But don’t you wanna, like, build a relationship with your daughter?”

“Yeah, sure. But I won't put pressure on Tamara to include me.”

Clay nods approvingly. “I get that.”

Next to him, Justin puts Toto back down. He only just manages to grab the end of the leash before it slips right through his fingers as the little whirlwind dashes ahead. “I want to support her, leave it up to her how much and how fast she is going to let me in.” He pauses. “But I have been considering moving back to Evergreen.”

“Move back?” Surprised, Clay raises his brows. He stops walking for a moment, but then quickly catches up with Justin.

“Yeah, I mean … with Dad sick and all … Mom might need a lot of support. And I’d be available for you guys more easily when you need a babysitter.”

Clay silently approves but instead of saying it he heaves a sigh. “Fucked up with Dad isn’t it?”

“It’s not the end yet,” Justin replies through gritted teeth. “He’ll pull through. Gonna be tough on him … but he’s gonna be in remission in no time.”

“I hope so,” Clay mutters.

They walk on in silence as Clay tries to decide whether or not he should open up about his marriage problems to his brother. But then he sees Justin’s face, and despite his optimistic words, Clay can see the signs of stress around his brother’s eyes and the tightness of his jaw. He isn’t nearly as confident about it all as he is trying to make Clay think he was.

And so Clay decides that maybe he doesn’t need to add to his brother's stress. After all, there is no saying if not all is going to be fine between Hannah and him in a week or two.

Chapter Text

It has been a few years since the last time Tamara had applied for a job. Plus, being at home and not working for over three years probably doesn’t make her the most popular candidate, either. But she had tried nonetheless, sending out applications to a few clinics and hospitals in the immediate area.

It would be nice, she had decided, if she could stay in Evergreen for the time being. It’s far enough away from Fresno that she doesn’t have to fear coming across Bobby and far enough away from Sacramento, as well, so no running into her parents by accident, either.

A fresh start.

Plus, it’s not too far away for Lucy to come and visit sometimes.

So when, against all odds, the practice manager of a birthing center located near the city center of Evergreen had called and asked her to come in for an interview, Tamara hadn’t hesitated to agree.

She glances at her watch — the interview is in an hour. She straps Ella into the carrier and pulls on her jacket and grabs an old umbrella she borrowed from Clay and Hannah. It’s a dull, rainy day.

Justin had texted her that he was still at his parents’ home and offered to babysit Ella while Tamara was being interviewed. She hadn’t hesitated to accept, especially after he also suggested for her to take his car into town. Evergreen might not seem big, but it’s not so small that everything is within walking distance.

She rings the bell at his mother’s place ten minutes later and he opens up almost instantly leaving her wondering if he had been looking out for her through the window. He’s looking a little disheveled in his tee and sweatpants and hair sticking up at the back — “working from home style”, he tells her with a slightly embarrassed shrug — and she can’t help thinking that it’s somewhat cute.

Ella cooes excitedly when Tamara lifts her into Justin’s arms, happily grabbing a handful of hair that had fallen over his forehead and tugging with all her might.

“Ouch.” Gently, he untangles the strand from her tiny fist. “Don’t, Sweetie … I still need that.”

Tamara chuckles, gratefully accepting the key which he pulls from his pocket with one hand, the second arm wrapped around his daughter awkwardly.

“Thank you so much for letting me borrow your car.”

Justin nods, his eyes fixated on Ella for a moment, but then he glances over with a bashful smile. “Technically I am not s’posed to let anyone drive other than me or a potential spouse — that’s what the company’s car policy says, anyway. But you are my daughter’s mother so I decided you’d qualify.”

“I’ll be back in an hour and a half,” Tamara says, bending forward to kiss Ella on the forehead.

“That’s fine,” he says, rocking the little girl, making her squeal with pleasure. “Good luck for the interview.”

She smiles. Weighing the car key in her hand she hurries down the steps towards the BMW parked a little down the road. She’s in the process of opening the door when he holds her back.

“Oh … um, Tamara. You got another second?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She looks back curiously.

Justin is still standing in the doorway, shifting his weight back and forth, looking hesitant. “Could you … I mean would you like to come by some time? My mother … she’s been asking about you. And since Ella is my child, it would make her the grandma —“

She tilts her head, thinking about it for a moment, but finally she nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll text you so we can make a date?”

She chuckles. “I’ll see you in an hour and a half, silly.”

“Right.” He blushes.

Jesus — he bushes.

It makes her stomach tingle. But she reprimands herself. No swooning over guys, not right now. And especially not over him. She needs to stay focused.

She feels a little alien in his car. Bobby had that large SUV but she wasn’t ever allowed to drive it. When she still worked she had a small Corolla to get around, but Bobby convinced her to sell it. Needless to say, the money went into their shared account even though it was completely her car — she had bought it before even knowing him.

But no car meant that she had to walk almost everywhere, usually taking Ella in the carrier, and if walking was too far, she would call a cab.

Justin’s car isn’t as large as Bobby’s SUV but big enough to make her feel uncomfortable driving it. Added to that, the pressure of having to perform at the interview makes Tamara’s hands shake slightly when she pulls into the parking spot in front of the clinic.

She isn’t sure what to expect but the manager on the phone had sounded nice enough. She hurries inside, making the receptionist look up at her. “Do you have an appointment?” she asks in a pointed voice, her eyes trimmed on the computer screen.

“Yeah, I’m here for a job interview,” Tamara replies. “Tamara Abbott.”

The young woman frowns. “I have an appointment for a Tamara Fitzgerald,” she says.

Tamara swallows nervously. “That’s me — I'm in the process of getting divorced, actually, so I am using my maiden name again. It’s going to be changed in a few days.”

Technically, it’s not, because she hadn’t even filed all the paperwork yet. And there is no actual saying how Bobby is going to react once she does. But Tamara Fitzgerald is a ghost of the past, a person that isn’t her anymore — and while she had written her application under that name, she had decided that if she meant to start over, she was going to do it right.

The clerk stares at her for a moment, face blank, leaving Tamara to wonder if she was going to be an asshole about it. But then she continues, “you can take a seat in the waiting area.”

Five minutes later a petite, dark skinned woman comes towards Tamara. Her face is framed by long, straight, shiny black hair and she offers a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, I’m Sheri. I’m the practice manager.”

And Tamara is instantly sure that they will get along.

—

It’s Sunday morning, still early when Justin reaches the entrance to the park, scanning the area for a particularly tall, broad figure with perfectly styled black hair. But all he sees is a middle aged dude walking a dog and a group of people, mostly women, stretching on the grass for an early morning yoga class.

With a huff, Justin kneels down to refasten his shoe lace. Then he adjusts the drawstring of his shorts that had been a little too loose.

Anxiety has been clinging to him since he woke up that morning after a really troubling nightmare. The kind he hadn’t had in years: A person on a bed, not small and yet helpless. Behind them a faceless figure. Towering over her — because, yes, the helpless person was a she.

Meaning it wasn’t him.

The aggressor loomed in the back, all dark and threatening until a ray of light from somewhere fell onto their face and panic gripped Justin with such force that he shot up, his heart thumping, his whole body shaking but unable to move.

It was him. He was that dark figure.

He didn’t manage to get back to sleep afterwards, his nervous system on high alert and his pulse refusing to slow down. He tried for an hour, hoping that he would be able to calm himself but finally he gave up and got off the couch to go into the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection for a moment until the dream came back to his mind and he couldn’t stand to see his own face anymore. He brushed his teeth and donned his gym clothes, sending Zach a request to join him for a run.

It’s a little wonder that Zach returned to a place like Evergreen after college. With that family background, the grades he got and his looks he probably could have applied for any position across the country and would have been hired straight on the spot. But he chose to stay close to his mother and accepted a job offer with the investment branch of a local private bank.

“You asshole,” he says when he finally arrives, seven minutes late. He shoves his long time friend in the side with his elbow.

The unexpected force behind the gesture makes Justin stumble and grunt angrily. “Dude — what the fuck?“

Zach reaches out a hand to put it on Justin’s shoulder and help steady him. “Sorry. That was a bit harder than intended. But — man, you’ve been in town for, like, two weeks and now you’re finally reaching out?”

“I had a lot of shit to deal with,” Justin responds with a scoff. He squints at his friend, suspiciously. “Who told you anyway? I mean, that I was in town?”

Zach chuckles, pretending to think for a moment. “Well … there have been a lot of sightings that were reported to me, actually. Let’s see … there was May … Alex Standall … and Sheri Holland —“ he pauses, then adds, “hold on, it’s Sheri Dibbs now, she got married. But never mind … point is it seems like everyone knew but me.”

“Well, by accident then — ‘cos I hadn’t reached out to anyone,” Justin replies in a short tone and it comes out a little harsher than he meant for it to sound. “Sorry, though. I … um … I really had a lot on my mind.” He blows out a breath. “My dad’s sick. Very sick. Acute leukemia.”

“Oh — fuck.”

Justin nods. “Yeah.” He sighs. “I don’t know how to get my head around that … the possibility that he might, you know … be gone way sooner than any of us thought —“

“I get that,” Zach replies quietly. “Remember when we were in junior year? My dad?”

Justin hadn’t thought of that. His eyes snap open and he looks up at Zach, stomach tight with guilt. “Shit man. I hadn’t thought about that. It’s been … it’s been so long —“

Zach nudges him. “No worries. Just … I totally get what you’re going through, is all I’m saying.” He stretches his long limbs and then shakes his legs out. “C’mon, run it off with me. You’ll feel better afterwards”

They run. Like, run. Not the kind of easy jog Justin had gotten used to over the past few years as it became clear that he was getting too old for an actual sports career. The exertion soon starts to feel uncomfortable, his body not accustomed to that pace anymore, but Justin keeps pushing forward despite the pain.

Zach’s prediction that he’d feel better turns out to be right and wrong at the same time, he realizes at the end of their route. Every muscle in his body hurts, but the tightness in his stomach had eased.

“I really needed that,” he announces, still slightly out of breath, when they finally walk the short distance towards where Zach had parked his car.

“I really hope the best for your dad,” Zach tells him. “It’s not time for our parents to go just yet.”

Justin nods, watching his friend climb into his Mercedes and pull onto the street, speeding away. He is probably awaited at home by his wife and his little toddler daughter. A brief surge of envy slices through his middle but Justin shrugs it away, walking home with his hands in his pockets.

Mom is out with Toto when he arrives.

She left him breakfast on the table, making Justin’s stomach pipe up with a probably rather justified request to be fed. But he reprimands himself, impatiently — now is not the time for indulgence. The house looks messy — and Tamara will be over in the afternoon — and besides, he can’t camp on the couch forever.

He had thought about moving back to Evergreen for a while, even before Tamara told him about Ella and Dad got so sick. It’s time to find an actual place. Even if Tamara isn’t going to stay in town, Mom is still here and she’ll probably need support, and so will Clay and the boys.

And Dad — once he is back from the hospital.

Still brooding, but feeling better than he had in the morning, Justin goes to shower, then dresses and finally starts getting the living room presentable for their guests. Then he makes himself a pot of coffee and turns on his laptop to go through apartment inserts.

—

Clay leans over Mateo, pulling at his seatbelt, knowing full well that his eldest can do all this on his own despite him pretending like he can’t bend far enough to reach the buckle from his booster seat. He does it with pride every time he’s riding with his uncle, but the minute there is no one around to impress he’s a helpless kid again.

Clay smiles to himself. It’s childish behavior but harmless, and as long as it’s only that, it’s fine with him.

They’re on their way to see the boys’ grandpa in the hospital, just the three of them. Hannah wanted to come but Clay asked her to let him go alone with just their sons. It’s their first time visiting and while his dad had insisted, “the more the merrier”, he had sounded very exhausted on the phone and Clay decided that maybe it was better if they didn’t overwhelm his dad.

He can’t help being anxious at the prospect of seeing his father. He’s only a couple days into chemotherapy, and while he had promised the family repeatedly that he was handling it well, Clay knows he wouldn’t have said anything other than that, no matter how he really felt.

“Dad — do you think Grandpa can play chess with me today?” Mateo asks from the backseat once they’re on their way.

“I don’t know, buddy,” Clay replies softly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t think so.”

It has been their thing for the past months. Clay doesn’t even know when they played it the first time, but he does remember his son coming home from his grandparents’ one day after, asking if they had a chess board at home.

A troubled sigh escapes Clay — it brings back memories of himself with his dad, sitting in the sun room of their house for a game of chess, talking about what was going on in their respective lives. They would sit there, patiently, even if it took hours, repeatedly chasing Justin away when he would come to see if they were finished because he got bored.

It’s such a fond memory, but now it sits inside Clay’s stomach like a giant ball of pain. Dad had always been so interested in what was happening in his sons’ lives. However, unlike Mom he had this way of getting information without prying. It was kind of ingenious, really.

“But Dad — why not?”

Clay glances up to catch Mateo’s eye through the mirror. “I don’t think your grandpa has his chessboard with him at the hospital.”

“So we can go get it from their house,” Mateo insists.

But Clay shakes his head. “Your grandma has Tamara and the baby over for a visit later today,” he explains. “I don’t want to disturb them.”

“Is Uncle Justin there, too?” Ollie pipes up. “Can he join us to see grandpa?”

“No, he can’t,” Clay explains patiently, “it’s like I said before — the three of us, that’s quite enough for your grandfather today. He is going through a really tough time, and the less people, the better he can cope. Your uncle went to see him yesterday, together with your grandma.”

“Okay,” Ollie sighs and deflates in his seat. He looks out the window and bounces his foot up and down against the passenger seat in front of him. Clay shakes his head. He and Hannah had given up on trying to tell him not to do that a long time ago. He simply couldn’t sit still in the car, and so they had just taken to always place him behind the passenger seat, so the constant kicks in the back would irritate him the driver.

By the time Clay pulls the car into the parking lot at the clinic the kicking stopped, Oliver’s eyes are closed and his head is leaned against the window, dozing.

Clay can’t help feeling nervous as enters the building after waking Ollie and convincing him that he can walk the short distance on his own.

He finds himself in a hall, which to his surprise is pleasantly bright and welcoming, illuminated through windows on either side rather than the cold, artificial light that Clay remembers from standard hospitals. There’s actual sunlight streaming in, and where there are no windows the walls are lined with large framed pictures in warm colors, all painted by the same artist according to their signature.

“This way, boys,” Clay steers his sons toward the elevator at the far end of the hall, and after a short argument Mateo is the one who presses the button for the second floor.

Dad is waiting where he said he would be waiting, right behind the door at a small waiting area furnished with chairs and a table. In the corner there is a cupboard covered in outdated magazines and a small assortment of children’s books.

Clay lifts a hand to offer his dad a wave. He’s sitting there, leg crossed, book in hand, his face lightening up when he sees them. He doesn’t look different from when Clay last saw him a few days ago.

Not yet, Clay reminds himself. He probably will in a few weeks from now.

He did bring his chessboard. Clay sees the box sitting on the table, and Mateo sees it, too, judging by the way his eyes light up.

They sit and play, Oliver strolling around and complaining from time to time about being bored, asking when the game would be over. Dad tells them about his routine at the clinic and Clay shares a few anecdotes from work. It feels almost the same as it did, twenty years ago, when it was only the two of them.

Clay wonders if his sons already understand how precious every single minute of it is.

—

Lainie’s curiosity for her granddaughter is so strong that for a short, blissful moment it even outweighed the concern for her husband — a dark shadow that has been clinging to her for days and had got her suddenly stuck, almost as if paralyzed, at the most inconvenient moments.

She had frozen at the checkout at the Walmart, unable to move for a few seconds — it felt like minutes, and not just to her, but also to the impatient young man behind her in the line.

She had zoned out during a court appearance, and it was just thanks to the fact that the case was so obviously clear that it shouldn’t even have gone to court in the first place, that her lack of concentration didn’t do any damage to her client.

And now she is decorating the table with an assortment of snacks, drinks and a vase of fresh flowers in the middle and she suddenly realizes that she functioned more reliably this morning than she had all week.

“Mom — don’t overdo it.”

She winces at the voice coming from behind her and turns around. Justin is leaning against the door frame, hands loosely in his jeans pockets.

“Remember — this is not a girlfriend situation.”

“I know,” Lainie replies, smiling at him. “I just think it’d be good if we could make it nice and cozy for all of us.” She pauses. “Should I make a snack for Ella as well?”

Justin chuckles. “She loves mashed bananas. I stocked the fridge up on bananas already. Everything else she needs Tamara will bring.”

“How’s she coping … I mean, financially?” Lainie can’t help but ask, knowing that strictly, it’s none of her business.

“I offered to pay alimonies, dating back to Ella’s birth,” Justin replies, pushing himself off the door frame and coming into the room. “She accepted that offer after the paternity test was positive. Also, she texted that she has a job offer from the birth center downtown.”

“And day care for the baby? Can we help there?”

“I don’t —“

The doorbell chimes.

“They’re here,” Justin announces unnecessarily, barely audible against Toto’s excited barking. “Mom … d’you think you could stop the puppy from making too much noise? I don’t want him to scare Ella.”

Lainie nods, picking up Toto and caressing him until he quiets.

Justin leaves the room and returns a moment later with a toddler in his arms. Tamara follows, looking timid. She clearly put effort into her appearance, Lainie notices — a little make up, a pretty dress, her blonde hair done — and Lainie secretly wonders if she did it for her, or for Justin.

Or for herself.

Lainie remembers when Clay was a baby. And he was an easy baby. He didn’t wail a lot, he always slept well for his age, he drank well, never making her worry — and he wasn’t very explorative, either. He had been late with everything — rolling over at six months, crawling on all fours at eleven months, walking at sixteen months.

And still he kept Lainie on her toes when she stayed at home to be the main caregiver, enough that on some days she didn’t even have the time to shower. Every opportunity she got to go out somewhere and socialize made Lainie feel like a different person, enjoying the simplest thing, such as discarding the stained sweats for something nice to wear, even when it was just a trip to the store.

Tamara seems a little shy, stepping into the living room and looking around. She smiles at a few photos on the wall — Clay and Justin at elementary school age, toothless grins and cheeky eyes — and a small collection of trophies the boys won throughout their school years that Lainie had never had a heart to throw away.

Lainie glances over at her son, who is busy, rocking Ella in a way that makes her giggle. Lainie had always thought that he would make a great dad at some point, judging by the way he is with Clay‘s boys — all fun but also understanding the responsibilities that come with parenthood.

He had made Lainie promise that she wouldn’t talk to Tamara about legal stuff all the time or even ask about any details. It’s not until Tamara gets ready to leave after an hour that she finally opens the topic on her own, “I got myself an attorney here in Evergreen. We’ve recently finished all the paperwork for my divorce, including filing for full custody.“ She peers at Justin.

“That’s great,” he says, but there is a hesitance in his voice, and Lainie knows where it’s coming from.

So does Tamara, obviously, because she gives him an encouraging look. “Go ahead and ask. It’s okay.”

“Do I get to play a role in Ella’s life?“ Justin asks, sounding timid in a way that isn’t typical for him. “You think we can be friendly enough with each other to achieve that?”

Tamara nods. “I never want to be as dependent as I was with Bobby again. But I’m planning to stay in town, at least for now. I don’t see why you shouldn’t get to spend time with Ella.”

“May I ask the name of your attorney?” Lainie changes the subject, unable to keep her curiosity in check.

Tamara shrugs. “Yeah, why? It’s Jessica Davis. She specializes in these kinds of cases.”

Justin’s eyes widen at the name, then he mutters, “oh, Jesus.”

Lainie looks at her son who deflated in his seat. The name is familiar, but she can’t place it without his help.

He gives her a brief look, then Tamara. “I know Jessica. We were together in high school.”

Tamara blinks. “Of course you were,” she sighs.

—

Matt’s biggest fear was always to be the first to go and leave his wife and lifelong companion behind alone. But the prospect of leaving at this point in their lives is something that he never considered.

He knows that men statistically have a lower life expectancy, but he hadn’t considered that something like this would happen to him. They say that the shorter lifespan is a result of poor health choices and neglected health care. But Matt always made it a point to make good choices.

He hadn’t ever been in the habit of excessive drinking or eating. He may never have been a sports man but made it a point to take regular walks around the park to get moderate exercise and leave the car behind to run errands when a destination was at walking distance.

And now he is sitting here, feeling sick and weak and tired.

And it is kind of unfair.

It doesn’t help much, either, when he reminds himself that things are going to be alright, even if he has to leave early. His boys are adults now, and sensible ones as well. He’s equipped them with life skills the best he could and they are more than capable of keeping an eye on their mom — and with Justin’s plans to move back to Evergreen he’d have to worry less about Lainie as well.

Matt releases a sigh in a vain attempt to ease the discomfort that the intense therapy sessions leave him with. It’s not as bad as he feared, at least not yet — part of him is worried that it will still get much worse before it gets better — but it’s bad enough.

His phone chimes — a request from Justin to play a quiz. Matt smiles, pressing the button to accept the challenge. It’s almost two p.m. — his son is probably having a late lunch break.

He and Lainie hadn’t liked the idea at first when Justin had accepted a job as sales representative for sports equipment straight out of college. Long working hours, little day structure — they feared he would be forced to miss out on sleep or — worse — on meals due to customer appointments at unconventional times.

And the fear wasn’t unfounded as they learned later. That first year after college was disastrous, with Justin’s inclination toward disregard of his own needs, and a toxic work environment that included sexual assault everywhere along the power gaps and unquestioned disordered eating habits among the majority of employees.

Justin couldn’t handle it, but it nearly took him a year to realize that.

The first question of the quiz appears on Matt’s screen, followed by four different response choices. Quickly, Matt scans them all, and presses the one that seems most likely.

It’s correct.

The boys both had spent endless hours trying to beat their dad at the quiz but it was possibly the only computer based game that they could never win against Matt — not even Clay.

The second question appears, and again, Matt picks the right answer easily enough.

When Justin admitted himself to hospitalization for anorexia just a few days after Clay’s wedding, Matt’s eldest son had been very torn between justified anger and just as justified concern. It was way worse than the first time that had happened during Justin’s first year in college, and Clay’s and Hannah’s wedding photos will forever bear witness of the effects that nearly twelve months of undereating had had on Clay’s younger brother.

Clay couldn’t get over it for a while. They would play endless rounds of quiz as Matt helped him sort out his thoughts and emotions. But since there seemed to be no good solution, in the end Matt just sent Clay on his honeymoon with Hannah, telling him that he’d know how to feel about it all when he would come back.

And he did. He went to see Justin at there hospital in Oakland and yelled at his brother for an hour, Justin swearing afterwards that he was sure Clay could be heard all the way back in Evergreen.

And now it’s his marriage that Clay is struggling with. And he needs his dad more than ever.

A third question in the quiz terminates the first round. This time Justin is faster to respond but on a whole the win goes to Matt.

‘I have time for a couple more rounds,’ Justin tells him through the chat function, and Matt accepts. It takes away the boredom, even if it can’t help with fatigue or nausea.

They play until Justin finally sends Matt another text, announcing that he has to get back to work, and Matt puts the phone away and falls asleep.

He was always there for his kids. And turns out, now they‘re there for him. Even on those days when they can’t come in to see him.

—

Tony wipes his hands on a greasy cloth, then stuffs it back into his back pocket.

“Can I try now?” Ollie asks impatiently. He shifts from one foot to the other, then bounces on his heels.

“Just a sec, buddy,” Tony replies, chuckling. He grabs the pedal of the five year old’s bicycle that’s standing upside down on the ground in front of him and turns it around a few times, watching the chain move. “Just a little oil, then it’s as good as new.” He offers the boy his fist and Oliver bumps it with his own tiny hand.

A moment later Tony turns the bike around again and sets it down. Oliver reaches for the handle bar and gets into the saddle for a quick ride. Clay watches his son, but Tony shakes his head.

“Not inside the garage,” he chastises gently. “It’s too dangerous here. You can ride your bike on the way home.”

“Okay — let’s go then, Dad,” Ollie squeals and he’s out the door in no time.

“Jesus — Oliver,” Clay yelps. He rushes after his son, catching him by his hood before he is around the corner. Luckily Oliver is educated enough to know that he can’t just run into the street. But Mateo is still in the back office of Tony’s garage, drawing a picture. “We’re leaving all together. In a minute. I just need to talk to Tony for a quick sec.”

Oliver frowns, his little face darkening. “No,” he says defiantly. “It’s boring here. I wanna go to Grammy’s and play with Uncle Justin and Toto.”

“Ollie, Justin doesn’t have time today,” Clay repeats, not for the first time. “He’s out looking at apartments.”

“That’s stupid,” the boy mutters.

“It means that he’s planning to move back to Evergreen,” Clay explains with a sigh. He knows, technically, that his son’s brain is not yet developed enough to connect all the dots and realize that he will get to spend much more time with his uncle soon. Mateo had realized it, but Ollie is still at an age where all that counts is what he can have now.

Back in the garage Tony’s long term boyfriend Caleb catches Ollie’s attention, winking at Clay, offering him the chance to share a word with his oldest friend.

“I need to work out more,” Clay grumbles as he accepts a glass of water Tony offers him and gulps down half of it in one go. “Soon I can’t run after those boys anymore. No wonder they prefer Justin to hang out with.”

Tony laughs, padding him on the shoulder. “Your brother may be the faster runner, but those boys adore their dad. I’ve never seen anything more obvious.”

Clay glances at Tony’s face, seeing the honesty in his friend’s face. “I dunno. I mean, yeah — they’re pretty devoted, but still … I don't feel like I’m doing them justice. All the problems Hannah and I are having … they’re noticing. We’re trying not to argue in front of them. But still —“

“Nobody is perfect,” Tony assures him. “And that’s exactly what they need to learn as well. Explain and be honest with them. That’s going to help them understand that adults make mistakes, too.” He pauses. “How’s your dad?”

Clay hesitates. Thoughtfully he scratches the back of his neck. “Not good,” he finally offers. “He’s not saying it, but chemotherapy is taking a toll on him. Big time.”

“I can imagine.” Hands on his hips Tony regards Clay long and intensely. “And how’re you?”

Clay shrugs. “Been better. But I’m holding up.”

“You don’t need to put up a brave face, man,” Tony tells him quietly, “not with me, anyway.” He glances over to where Caleb is currently carrying Oliver around on his shoulders. Mateo had left his drawing behind and joined them, clapping excitedly while bouncing up and down. “Those boys need you, but you need to recharge your batteries sometimes as well.”

Clay scoffs. “Yeah, Mom said the same. And Justin — he promised to be more present than he could be when he lived in Fresno. But honestly — I think he’ll be busy, looking after our mom and —“

“And?”

“And … well — his daughter.”

Tony’s eyes widen in surprise. “When did your brother become a family man?”

Clay chuckles. “I’m not even sure if I was allowed to mention it to be honest. I didn’t ask him if he’s ready to make it public. But it’s not … you know … he’s not together with the mom.”

Tony nods, as if he had at least half expected it. “Figures. But he’ll make time for the boys as well, if you need him to, wouldn’t he? Didn’t you say he’s good with the kids?”

“He is,” Clay confirms. “However, he’s also the guy that drives Hannah crazy.” Despite the pit in his stomach Clay can’t help a grin. “Should’ve seen her face when the boys competed to see who could burp the loudest at Christmas dinner, and Justin was like, ‘I can do better’ — and believe me, he could.” A sudden pain slices through his middle at the memory. “It made Dad laugh so hard, he snorted out his drink. Hannah was quite appalled for a moment but in the end, we all laughed.” Sucking in a troubled breath Clay pauses. “Can’t believe that was only a couple months ago. Feels like eternity.”

“I know what it’s like, man.” Tony’s hand wraps around Clay’s shoulder, squeezing. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first Christmas after my family was deported. I was sure I’d never be happy again.”

A small nod is all Clay can offer as a response.

Tony’s grip on his shoulder tightens a little. “Admitted, it’s not the same. But that’s not really the point.” He chews on his lip, thoughtfully. “Guess what I’m trying to say is, you were there for me then — and whatever’s coming your way now I’ll be there for you, man.”

A sour smile forces its way out as Clay nods again. “Thanks.” He sniffs, swallows against his tightened throat and finally gives a wave to his sons who are still climbing all over Caleb. “C’mon boys … let’s grab some ice cream on the way home. We don’t have to tell Mom.”

The suggestion is met with an excited squeal.

Chapter Text

Hannah sits at her desk trying to concentrate. Absent-mindedly she twirls a strand of long curly hair around a finger, blinking a few times as her eyes refuse to focus on the computer screen in front of her. She needs a break, she knows, but then her phone buzzes, a preview of a text message appearing.

Mark.

Wanna get lunch together, talk over tomorrow’s meeting? My treat.

Hannah frowns at the invitation.

Her first instinct is to say no. But Mark is the senior manager on the campaign that Hannah has been assigned to — making him not directly her boss, but lending him the influence and the status to offer her a stage within the company.

However, that is not the actual problem.

The real issue is that he is so damn attractive — with that confident, bright smile of his and the way he styles his hair and tucks his dress shirt into his expensive jeans. He is so different from Clay, with that constant frown he likes to wear and his grungy I-only-leave-the-house-if-I-have-to style.

She should really say no to Mark's request for lunch. But there is also the implication that it is a work-related lunch, and she isn’t sure if that makes it mandatory for her to attend.

She picks her phone up and dials Mark's number.

He sounds surprisingly short and almost impatient when he answers. “Hannah, this is not a good moment to call. I’m in a meeting right now. Can this wait?”

“Oh … um, yes. Sorry,” Hannah stammers while at the same time feeling stupid for sounding like an insecure, shy little girl. “It was about the lunch date but … well, never mind.”

She hears Mark sigh. “Like I said, there’s a few things I want to go over with you. If you can’t make it, though, I might need to find someone else to help me prepare the next steps.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she finds herself responding quickly. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” His voice softens. “Catch you later, okay?”

He hangs up and as she does the same, she feels stupid. Like that sixteen year old school girl she once was, having a crush on a boy. It doesn’t help much when she straightens up in her seat, reminding herself that she is a married woman and a mother of two, and she’s doing a good job at work, and there is no reason for her to question herself.

Because the ugly truth is that she does not only want to make the most of the opportunity she is offered, but she longs for Mark’s personal approval. There is no denying it.

The way he looked at her the other day when she presented their milestones to the customer, his approving nod, that proud smile, the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off her — she can’t help wanting exactly that.

“You’re a force of nature,” he’d said, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get a drink and celebrate.”

She felt important that day. She doesn’t want to lose that, even though it ended in a disastrous argument at home after Clay saw Mark’s social media post.

—

The apartment complex reminds Justin a lot of the building he has lived in during the past few years in Fresno. Nothing spectacular, just a grey house, not too old, sitting on one of the smaller side streets in a quiet neighborhood. It’s a nicely maintained place and in a seemingly safe area, too.

There is a small park located across the street — it probably doesn’t even deserve the name park, it’s mostly just a lawn with open access for anyone in the neighborhood — and a bus station just a few minute’s walk away that would make it easy for Tamara to drop by with Ella if she wanted to visit or needed him to watch their daughter for a couple hours.

The downside is that the units within the complex are larger than Justin’s current apartment and only affordable through sharing with a roommate.

Well, if he is honest, Justin thinks that he could probably afford it. But after years on his own, sharing a place with someone might be nice, he decided. And besides, Evergreen — or rather the areas he is looking at — is popular. All the other places that have vacancies are in far less safe parts of town — or completely out of his reach, financially.

He’d have to clarify with Tamara if she’d agree with letting Ella stay with him if there was someone else in the apartment, but for now he’s just going to have a look at it. He studies the panel at the front entrance, looking for the number the person had emailed him and pressing the button when he finds it. Some seconds later the buzzer sounds, announcing access.

Apartment seven is on the first floor. There is an elevator, but it’s only one flight of stairs so Justin decides to walk. He is almost at the top of the steps when he stops in his tracks, surprised.

A man his age is leaning against the door frame of apartment seven, arms crossed casually over his broad chest and a small smirk pulling at one side of his mouth. He is wearing jeans and an open plaid shirt over a crisp white t-shirt — the same combination Justin vaguely remembers that same guy wear almost every day in high school.

“Yo, Jensen,” he says with a grin, “welcome to my little casa.”

Justin is aware of his own reputation of rarely ever being lost for words, but the situation is so unexpected that he needs a moment to think of anything to say.

“Monty,” is what he goes for — a lame response, if it can even be called one. “You live here?”

“Yeah. Surprised?”

Justin shrugs. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“Wanna come on in?” Generously, Montgomery de la Cruz steps to the side, spreading out an arm for an inviting gesture.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Justin takes a few curious steps, peering past his former high school football teammate to get a look at the place. “I dunno know, man. I mean, how do I know that you’re not gonna hit me in the back with a baseball bat?”

Monty, along with two other guys from high school, had once trapped him and beat him up so bad he spent a night in hospital with a concussion. But this thirty year old version of Monty de la Cruz doesn’t look threatening. Sure, he probably outweighs Justin despite being roughly the same height, and he is still all muscle and physical power, but his expression is that of a somewhat reformed man.

“Believe it or not but I am not the same person that I was in high school.”

“Well, most of us aren’t,” Justin replies, passing the other man and stepping into the apartment.

Monty shakes his head. “Wrong, man. ‘cos most guys I know are. But I’m not. I did the work.”

“Can you show me the room you are renting out?” Justin asks without responding to Monty’s statement. Not that he has any intention to live here — not with Monty de la Cruz, anyway — but now that he’s here he might as well take a look around.

The place doesn’t seem like he would have imagined Monty’s place to look like. It’s not perfectly clean, but a long way from the chaos Justin would have expected. There is no personal stuff, though, not even pictures or photos on the walls or any shelves, and, what puzzles him the most, Justin realizes, there’s not a drop of alcohol. Not even a single empty bottle on the kitchen counter or half hidden in the tiny niche by the fridge, or anywhere else.

“I’m sober, in case you’re wondering,” Monty provides, obviously guessing Justin’s thoughts. “I said it before … I did the work.”

“What work?” Justin asks him, looking up into Monty’s eyes.

“A lot of work. But that’s a story for another time, man.” He clears his throat and makes a grand gesture towards the bedroom that is currently unfurnished. “You want the room, you can have it, just let me know.”

Justin opens his mouth to reply, when the doorbell chimes. A small grin appears on Monty’s face. He walks over to open the apartment door and after a minute or two, Alex Standall shuffles in, all skinny and well dressed, just the way Justin remembers him, aside from the slight limp that is slowing him down a little.

Clay had mentioned once that Alex had been in hospital for being depressed after a friend from college decided to end her life. Apparently he couldn’t get over it and shot himself in the head, but he survived it.

And now he’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame for support, looking just as confused as Justin feels.

“Jesus … this is turning into a high school reunion,” Justin mutters.

“Not quite.”

The weirdest thing happens next. Monty de la Cruz, the biggest homophobic bully in high school, walks over to kiss Alex on the lips. Justin tilts his head, wondering if maybe this is some sort of parallel universe that he had managed to fall into. “Pinch me,” he mutters. He sees the other two send him an amused look and clears his throat. “Guys, not that I mind … but I’m clearly missing something here.”

“As I said, not a story for now,” Monty replies. “Do you still want the room?”

“You mean … knowing that you’re gay?”

The other man just gives a challenging nod.

“Well, if I needed proof that you’re not the guy anymore who beat me up for the sake of Bryce Walker, it’s probably that,” Justin concludes. “But dude — you can’t blame me for not expecting this.”

Monty regards him calmly, his head tipped to the side. “I need your decision by tomorrow.”

Justin looks at him, then at Alex and back at Monty. “Right.” He sighs. “I think I am interested. It’s just that … I have a kid. She lives with the mom mostly, but I might have her over sometimes. I need to know if it’s safe.” He hesitates briefly before clarifying, “and I don’t mean that in a homophobic bullshit kind of way. I just need a place that is private. And quiet at night — no spontaneous parties or gatherings.”

“I’m working a lot,” Monty says. “Or I’m at Alex’s. You’ll mostly have the apartment to yourself. Day and night.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “chances are that we’ll move in together sooner or later.” He points at Alex, then himself. “Then you can have it completely.”

Justin nods. “I’ll think about it.” He wonders if Tamara would let Ella stay with him here, knowing that essentially he was going to have the space to himself most of the time. But that is something he’ll only find out by talking to her. “I’ll get back to you asap.”

—

It’s getting warm out.

Early on a sunny morning on the brink of summer Lainie comes down to the kitchen, longing for the comfort that her morning cup of coffee provides. She couldn’t say why, but this particular day she woke up to the emptiness of her bed and noticed Matt’s absence in an even more painful way than usual.

He’s due back home for a while in just a few days from now, and she is counting the hours. But until then she will have to hold on to every bit of comfort she can get elsewhere.

By the time she enters the kitchen she finds that her son is already awake, wearing gym clothes, sweaty fabric sticking to his back. He’s busy, filling Toto‘s bowls with fresh water and dog food.

He looks up at Lainie upon her arrival.

“Hey,” she says, trying to smile. “Have you been up long?”

“Long enough to take Toto for a little exercise outside,” he replies with a grin. “You wouldn’t believe how fast he is.”

“I happen to know,” Lainie replies with a small chuckle. “Did he tire you out?”

Justin laughs. “I’d get right back into my bed if I could.” He hesitates, as if not sure if he should say what is on his mind. “Um … Tamara texted. It’s Ella’s first birthday today and she was asking if we’d like to join her later for coffee and ice cream at Marcello’s.”

“Me too?” Lainie asks, surprised.

“Yup. And Clay and Hannah with the boys.” He pauses. “She doesn’t really have anyone else to invite.”

“What about her parents?” Lainie wonders.

“I don’t know for sure but I think she doesn’t have contact,” Justin says. “I think she doesn’t trust them to be on her side when it comes to the whole divorce process.”

“How awful,” Lainie mutters.

“So, are you coming?”

“Sure.” How could she not? “I don’t have a present, though.”

Justin shrugs. “Me neither, to be honest. She hadn’t told me until this morning, so maybe I’m going to get Ella something later on. I’m sure it’s much more important to Tamara to not be alone than to receive gifts for Ella.”

“Well, I’m going to ask her if there is anything she needs for the little one,” Lainie decides. “What time are we meeting at Marcello’s?”

“‘round three. After Ella’s afternoon nap.”

“Are we going together?”

Justin shakes his head. “I’ll meet you there. Zach invited me over for some sort of brunch his wife is having.” He rolls his eyes. “Sounds like it’s some uptight bullshit event if you ask me, but he practically begged me to come, help him get through the morning.”

“Sounds like he’d rather do something else as well,” Lainie says with a smirk.

The remark makes her son laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lainie spends the morning reviewing a stack of case files that one of the young attorneys had worked on, still needing her supervision. Then she makes a light lunch for herself. The apartment feels oppressively empty, and by the time she leaves she is sure she wouldn’t have been able to bear another minute at that place alone.

On the way to the ice cream shop she picks up a bunch of flowers for Tamara and a birthday card that plays a little melody when opened for Ella. The sun is out, when she arrives at Marcello’s. Warm rays on her skin, bearing comfort.

The gelateria has a small patio to sit outside. And that’s where they are gathered when Lainie arrives. She notices that Hannah is missing and Clay instantly provides the information that his wife is tied up with a work meeting.

It feels a little awkward at first because none of them know Tamara very well but she is surprisingly open about the reason she invited them all.

“I don’t actually have many friends,” she admits. “I don’t know how he did it, but Bobby really got me to neglect all of my friendships to the point where I more or less lost them.”

“That’s a shame,” Justin says. “How did he do that? You had a lot of friends in college, if I remember it correctly.”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” Tamara replies. “I was working a lot when I met him, and my job included night shifts. So that was that. And then he … well, he kept telling me that I needed to hit the gym more often, and he’d always go with me to make sure that no other guy was going to hit on me. And then he convinced me to quit my job and somehow I ended up pretty much isolated.”

“You’ll meet a few people here in Evergreen,” Clay says. “The boys and I can watch Ella maybe if you wanna go out — and Justin’s gonna be available for babysitting as well.”

“I’d also be happy to help,” Lainie adds.

Tamara just smiles at them all. But then her face suddenly darkens for a moment. Justin, who had been so focused on Ella playing with her music birthday card in his lap that he apparently forgot all about his ice cream, frowns. He, too, must’ve seen that Tamara’s expression had changed.

“You okay?” he asks her before Lainie gets a chance.

“Yeah … I, um … yeah.” She shakes her head, almost as though she was trying to shake off a bad feeling or thought. “Just … I just thought I saw Bobby. Down the street. But that was probably just someone else who reminded me of him. He can’t know I’m in Evergreen, right?”

As much as Lainie wants to assure her that it’s impossible that her husband found her, she can’t. And she can’t assure her son, either, who looks tense after Tamara mentioned her husband. He is still playing with his daughter, but not without looking up to scan the street every few minutes.

And as long as the legal proceedings are still ongoing Tamara isn’t safe from being held accountable for the act of parental kidnapping.

—

It’s a bright Monday morning a few days after Ella’s birthday, birds chirping outside the slightly open window, sun shining into his bedroom despite the early hour. Clay realizes with some astonishment that he woke up before his alarm and after a moment he pushes his sheets away and grabs his phone. He finds a text from Dad announcing that he would be home from the hospital.

It had been discussed among the physicians at the clinic whether it was safe to release him but the decision wasn’t made until the very last moment.

But apparently he is well enough to go.

Another text comes in just after Clay had put the phone back on his night stand.

Can you pick me up? It was such a last minute decision that your mom couldn’t get out of a court date. If you can’t make it, I’ll ask your brother.

But Clay doesn’t need to be asked twice.

What time exactly do you need me to pick you up? he types back.

Just before noon, is the answer.

So after hitting the shower Clay calls his boss to ask for a personal day, hoping she’d agree despite the short notice. So far, she has been very supportive about the situation.

“It’s good to hear your father is better, Clay,” she tells him after he shared his request for a day off. “We’ll get along fine today, don’t worry. Catch up with you tomorrow.”

After that Clay prepares breakfast for the boys while Hannah wakes them up and helps them get dressed.

It’s one of those days — Mateo is in a terrible mood, snapping at his parents every time anyone so much as looks at him and Ollie, sensing how upset his brother was, couldn’t help poking his finger into the wound. It seems to be a passion that Clay would never quite understand, trying to find out what it would take to drive Mateo over the edge and into having a major meltdown.

Justin did the same to him sometimes when they were at that age, Clay remembers.

But Hannah is handling the boys today, telling Clay to leave everything up to her. By the time she is out the door to drive their sons to school and kindergarten, Clay takes a few deep breaths, sipping his tongue-burningly hot coffee, then he calls Mom before her court appointment and leaves a voicemail for Justin, telling them both that he would be bringing Dad home later.

The ride to the clinic seems endless. The weather is still bright, suggesting a beautiful day, but it has no effect on Clay. Instead he feels like he is about to burst with contradictory emotions that settled into his stomach — a mix of relief, anxiety, impatience, excitement — and he couldn’t even tell what else.

Nervously he drums his thumbs on the steering wheel, an impatient rhythm that does nothing to soothe his nerves. But it reminds him of how his dad would pass time and vent nervous energy whenever he was feeling agitated while confined to the tiny space between the driver seat and the steering wheel.

“You are so like Dad,” Justin likes telling him, and moments like this, Clay finds it’s probably true.

When he finally arrives at the clinic he instantly sees his father. He is sitting on a bench just outside the front door, his suitcase neatly placed at his feet, his head covered with a thin cotton hat despite the warm weather. From a distance he looks very much the same as always — his posture, his calm demeanor — but also very different at the same time.

Clay can’t help but notice the inevitable: his dad still looks very sick.

But he’s alive.

And that’s what matters for now.

—

Packing stuff up for moving is always a pain in the ass. But Justin had made it a point to keep his apartment void of unnecessary items. It wasn’t hard, he’d never been the type to decorate much, his creative abilities were always, to put it mildly, inferior to his brother’s.

Clay loves decorations — always did — though not necessarily the same sort that Hannah loves, but they made compromises that allowed her kitsch to coexist with his nerd stuff. Added to that there’s the boys’ mess of toys and drawings and craftings, and if he’s honest, Justin likes the way it makes their home look oddly nice.

At least it’s an actual home. Not just an apartment to sleep and work in, or hang out in front of the tv on Friday nights.

Maybe one day, Justin thinks, he will have a home like Clay does for himself.

Right now however his focus is on moving back to Evergreen. It’s too early to actually pack everything up — he’s not moving for almost a month — but he decided that he’d better get a head start and collect a few things he isn’t going to need on a regular basis and box them up.

But what? Maybe kitchen utensils? He’s not going to be cooking anything on his own and cooking nights with Dad are out of question at the moment. Unable to choose, he heaves a sigh instead and decides to start by getting the stack of boxes that he borrowed from Clay to carry them from the trunk of his car into the house.

Coincidence has it that he bumps into his neighbor Chris on the way back up.

“What’s with all these boxes?” the elder man asks him, giving Justin a curious look. “You’re not moving out, are you?”

“Not yet,” Justin admits. “But I am planning to return to my hometown by the end of this month.”

Chris regards him for a moment, then reaches for half of the cartons, wordlessly offering his help to carry them. “Can’t say I like the idea,” he says with a soft smile. “But Bear told me about that friend of yours — the one with the little girl — and … well, I get it.” He hesitates. “Is she … is she really your daughter?”

Justin raises his eyebrows, taken aback for a moment until he remembers how Chris’ boyfriend had accompanied him to pick Tamara up from her friend’s house and replies, “I took a paternity test, so yeah — it’s pretty much proven.” He clears his throat. “But there's really a bunch of reasons to why I’m moving, though — not just the kid,” he adds a moment later, thinking about his parents and how they will need every help they can get with Dad being so ill. “I’m gonna miss you guys, though.”

Chris nods, and they carry the boxes upstairs in silence.

“You need any help packing, you let us know,” Chris offers when they reach Justin’s apartment door.

“Sure — will do,” Justin promises.

“You gonna stay here for a couple more days?”

Justin shakes his head. “Nah. I need to get back to Evergreen tonight. I promised Tamara to watch Ella when she is working night shifts. I’ll be coming here to pack whenever I can but other than that, I’ll be staying at my parents’ house.”

“At least come round for dinner tonight?”

“Wish I could,” Justin replies with a huff, “but I need to head back this afternoon. Sorry, man.”

Back in his apartment Justin shoves the boxes into a corner, suddenly not so ready to start packing anymore.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when he had thought that he might share this apartment with someone permanently — make it a cosy home, at least until deciding on finding something bigger. But it never got to that point, and he can’t even say what he is doing wrong. All of his relationships end in either arguments or plain disinterest in one another after a few months.

They never went beyond casual dating and sex, really.

And clearly, it’s his fault somehow. He knows what the women he dates see in him — a bachelor, attractive, charming, a nice car and a nice paycheck at the end of the month. But not much beyond.

And part of him likes it that way.

It’s different with Tamara, though. She already saw him at his weakest, his most vulnerable. And he didn’t shut her out back then, even though from today’s point of view it makes him shudder with embarrassment at how low he had fallen in her presence.

And now the roles are sort of reversed, now she is the one deeply hurt and trying to escape her demons. And he can’t help feeling like she is shutting him out.

Which kinda hurts, even though he knows that it’s nothing personal. Maybe he just needs to be patient, he told himself a few times, to preserve the friendship. Let her determine the pace and the direction it’s going.

And most importantly: be there when she needs him.

—

Tamara is busy folding the clothes she had just washed into the drawer next to the bed where Ella is curled up in her little sleeping bag, taking her mid morning nap. There is an unexpected knock on the door that has her wince.

She moves over to the entrance and listens for a moment. The person on the other side knocks again. Then she hears Clay‘s voice and breathes out in relief.

“Tamara, are you there?”

During the last couple days she had been more tense than before, feeling anxious at every step, almost as if at any given moment she would be running into her husband. Especially leaving Ella in kidcare to go to work had been difficult for her.

Life is good as it is right now, but she can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be ripped away from her sooner or later. Together with Jessica Davis she had handed in all the paperwork to get her divorce processed and have Bobby removed from Ella’s birth certificate — and her life — but the uncomfortable reality is that it takes a while. Way longer than she likes it to.

And if Bobby decides to report her for parental child abduction it’s going to get complicated. Jessica had explained to her that she would have to prove that he is abusive to have a chance to get full custody of her daughter if she has a criminal record.

But how is she supposed to do that? Emotional abuse leaves no traces.

There are no police reports of vases being thrown against the wall, right next to her head. Or of all the yelling, the body shaming, the controlling. Isolating her from her friends. Embarrassing her in front of her parents.

Without Lucy — the one friendship that Bobby could not destroy though not for lack of trying — Tamara wouldn’t even have known it for what it was: clear and obvious emotional abuse. She would have considered it the normal ups and downs within a relationship. A normal reaction of her husband to being under the pressure and exposed to stress and expectations.

“Tamara?”

She winces. Clay is still outside the door. Quickly, she hurries to open up, putting a finger to her lips when the door swings open to indicate that Ella is sleeping and should not be disturbed.

Clay nods at the sight of the one year old curled up on the mattress. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to impose on you,” he says quietly, “I just wanted to tell you that Hannah and I would like to invite the two of you in for dinner, if you like.”

“That’s kind of you but I need to work tonight,” Tamara replies. “Ella is staying at your mom’s — Justin is babysitting.”

Clay chuckles softly. “He likes being a dad.”

“More than Bobby used to,” Tamara agrees with a nod. “I mean, he desperately wanted a child, but once Ella was there he had no interest in her whatsoever. All he cared about was the family photo for the Christmas card — all the work that comes with parenthood he gladly handed over to me.”

“And yet it’s because of Ella that you can't just turn your back on him for good,” Clay concludes.

Tamara sucks her bottom lip. “Apparently it’s not so uncommon for men to bind their wives to them through a child they have together. Lucy explained that concept to me.” She pauses. “But Ella isn’t really his, and while he initiated all the events that, uh … brought her into our life … lt’s all going to backfire on him now.”

Clay doesn’t respond instantly. He looks over at Ella with a small frown then focuses on Tamara again. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she replies, thinking that she can probably guess what he is getting at — and it’s inevitable that someone will ask sooner or later.

However, Clay seems hesitant to put it into words. “My brother … he’s not saying it, but I know he feels guilty about what happened between you and him that night, when … you know … that one night stand you two had,” he finally offers.

“Yeah, I know,” Tamara replies. Because, well, it's been obvious since the moment she told him how it all came to be. “Look, I know that it’s something he’ll probably struggle with for a bit but I’m sure that he’ll eventually realize that he did nothing wrong. He couldn’t have known any better.” She breaks off there and waits a moment, studying Clay’s expression. “You haven’t asked me anything yet.”

“You know what I’m going to ask you.”

“You wanna know how I feel about Justin,” Tamara confirms, watching him agree with a small gesture. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then blows the air out audibly. “Clay, look … I get why you want to know that —”

“But?”

Tamara sighs, gesturing at the room behind her where her daughter is still comfortably sleeping. “But thinking about that is a luxury I can't afford right now. I need to focus on getting on my feet so I can afford a place where I can live without intruding on your family’s privacy every day and —“

She stops in mid sentence. There was a sound that caught her attention — screeching tyres on the pavement on the other side of the main house. It sounded like more than one car coming to an abrupt halt. Next thing she knows there are two men in uniform, rounding the house to come straight towards them. A young woman follows them, conventionally pretty and wearing a tight expression.

“Tamara Fitzgerald?” one of the deputies snarls.

She can barely confirm before he has her turned around and handcuffed. “You’re arrested for parental kidnapping.”

Tamara’s ears are ringing, panic rises inside of her. Everything else the man is saying dissipates into a string of incomprehensible words going into her and out again without the slightest chance of being processed.

Nothing is making sense.

Her vision is narrowed down to the sight of her daughter being carried out of the house by the young woman she doesn’t know.

“Wait,” she pants, trying to loosen herself from the man’s grip, “where’re you taking my daughter?”

“She’ll be staying with her father,” the woman — most likely a social worker — says in a tight lipped tone. She has a strict and somewhat merciless look about her eyes that makes Tamara’s stomach feel ice cold. “Until further notice.”

And then she’s out of sight around the corner and it’s all that Tamara can do to keep herself upright on her own feet. From afar she can still hear the wailing sound of her baby, who was ripped from her sleep and forced away from her mother, moving a little further from her with every step.

Chapter Text

Justin hadn’t known what to expect or how to feel, but right now anxiety sits in his stomach like a heavy stone, trying to pull him down, as he walks up the stairs to the well maintained front entrance. One of Evergreen’s highest buildings, this address hosts a variety of different businesses, including a few larger companies' local branches but also a number of small businesses, including Jessica Davis’ one person law firm.

Hands in the pockets of his jacket, Justin takes the elevator to the third floor where he then knocks on the door that, according to the sign, is the entrance to Jessica’s office.

She opens up so quickly he wonders if she had been standing right on the other side, waiting.

“Justin.”

“Hey,” he says as he passes her by and cautiously takes a look around. “It’s good to see you again, Jess.”

There is a small front desk that is currently unattended. Maybe that’s where she had been sitting when he knocked.

“Natasha, my staff member, is on her break,” Jessica explains. “She’s only working part time anyways.”

Justin nods. “You’ve come a long way,” he says approvingly.

Jessica smiles. “Anything I can do to help tear down the patriarchy.”

The joke — if it was one — falls short, and to gloss over the uncomfortable silence afterwards, Justin decides to come straight to the point of why he is here in the first place. “Have you heard from Tamara?”

“She’s back with her husband,” Jessica replies with a curt nod. “That’s why I agreed for you to come see me today.”

“Why’s she back with him?” Justin asks her. “I mean … he’s — he’s dangerous.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Jessica snaps as she leads him into another room, and offers him a place to sit in front of a desk that’s covered in books, files and cardboard boxes that are probably filled with even more files and books. “I’m getting us a drink of water. This conversation is gonna take a while.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, sitting on a chair to wait for her return. It sounded kind of intimidating. Nervously, he wipes his hands on the sides of his jeans, letting his eyes wander a bit.

It’s a small chamber that Jessica calls her office, every little space is well used — efficiency over appearances — which is so Jessica Davis.

She doesn’t do things halfway.

When they got together the first time that summer before junior year, Jessica was a popular cheerleader and very much a typical girly girl. But then a few unpleasant things happened to her — including almost being raped by the most popular boy at school during a party at her parents’ house and even in her own bedroom — and she realized that she didn’t want to succumb to all the ‘patriarchal bullshit’ any longer.

Justin had wondered a bit now and then if it was part of the reason why she broke up with him after high school graduation. She said she didn’t want to go through the ups and downs of a long distance relationship, but he suspects that she also just wanted to be free of any baggage as she entered a new phase of her life.

And the good thing is that she never saw him struggle through his college years.

She has no knowledge of how troubled his early adult years had been. She likely remembers him the same way most of their classmates would probably remember him had they been asked — popular jock, captain of the basketball team and charming girl magnet.

She does know about his early childhood abuse, of course — because everybody in school knew that after a pornography picture of five year old Justin was sent around from a popular boy’s pedophile father’s computer. But beyond that, she has no clue.

“Here you go,” Jessica’s firm voice pulls him back from his thoughts as she hands him a tall glass of water, filled almost to the brim. Then she lets herself fall into the chair on the other side of her desk, facing him with a frown. She looks intimidating, framed by files and books that are stacked up high left and right of her face.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” she says, her twirling finger indicating the overloaded desk and shelves behind her. “I still prefer paper files, but we are working on digitalization of our case notes.”

Justin shrugs. “Don’t mind.”

“Shall we proceed?” she asks him.

“Yeah,” he huffs. And then, “I’m fucking worried.”

Jessica’s face darkens as she puts on a pair of dark rimmed glasses. “You have every reason to be,” she sighs.

“You have cases like this a lot?” Justin asks her, sitting up a little straighter.

Jessica reaches for a file, flipping through the pages, wetting her forefinger every now and then. But finally she looks up again and into his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how little people are familiar with the rights they have.” She blows out a frustrated breath, straightening her shoulders.

“I can guess.”

Jess nods. She has her hands flat on the table now, and her eyes are boring into Justin’s, piercing him. “For now Tamara is out of jail ‘cos her husband paid the bail. She is also at his house, currently — ‘cos social services decided to place the child in his care for the time being.”

“Essentially meaning that she’s the one the work,” Justin adds.

“No doubt about that.”

“It’s a good thing, though,” Justin points out, carefully. “I mean … that she’s with Ella.”

As expected Jessica responds by sending him a dark look. “You know … I agree it’s best for Ella to be taken care of by her mom, rather than that asshole or whomever he’d assign to do it for him,” she says. “Unfortunately, though, Tamara’s desire to make sure her daughter’s okay will keep her within Bobby’s reach for as long as he has control over the kid.”

“But it’s proven that he isn’t the father,” Justin retorts, bending forward in his seat.

Jess stares at him, sucking on her lip for a moment then she exhales. “You may be the biological father but so far you’ve barely played a part in Ella’s life.”

“Tamara was going to let me into their life,” he snaps back.

“But Tamara has a criminal record now,” Jessica explains, outwardly unaffected but his emotional turmoil. “Chances are that if it comes down to it, she will not get custody. She kidnapped her child and withheld Ella from Bobby. That’s a felony.”

“So Ella will be staying with that asshole?” Angrily, Justin gets to his feet. “You’re supposed to fix that, aren’t you?”

Jessica regards him calmly. “I don’t remember you being a hothead like that,” she tells him. “Either way, don’t take it out on me, contain yourself. I’m trying to help Tamara and you can be a part of that.”

Despite the tightness of practically every part of his body, Justin sits back down. Jessica is right of course, she is just the bearer of bad news. He has no right to take his anger out on her. And he isn’t actually a hothead, never has been — even if these are very serious circumstances.

He wills himself to be calm. Concentrate. “What can I do?”

Jessica waits a moment, as if checking out if he is focused on what she has to say. “I need you to testify on Tamara’s behalf. We need to make a case against her husband for abuse.”

“How can I help with that?” Justin asks her. “I barely know him.” He thinks back to when he picked Tamara up from her friend Lucy’s, when he walked past Bobby, and how the man’s aura made even him nervous. “He’s a creep, though. That much I know. But that’s just… like, my view of him. Doesn’t hold up in court, does it?”

“Depends. He forced her to sleep with you,” Jessica replies calmly. “That’s abuse. And you were a part of the abuse.” She pauses. “I’m sure you can tell the story in a way that makes them realize the severity of what happened that night.”

Justin swallows. “What do you mean?”

Jessica looks up straight into his eyes. “Well, it was essentially rape. Even if you didn’t know it at that point.”

Justin squeezes his eyes shut. This is the confirmation of what he had been trying to stop himself from thinking for weeks. He raped Tamara. It didn’t feel that way, though. “I had no idea she was being forced.”

“Had she been weird at all that night?”

He considers the question for a bit and finally nods. “Yeah, something was off. But I never would’ve thought —“ he pauses. “If I testy, will I be charged with anything?” Like rape?

Jessica shakes her head. “You didn’t know and since it was Tamara who contacted you, there’s connection between you and Bobby that would suggest that you knew what was going on.” She takes a deep breath. “Nevertheless you’d better have a lawyer in place. Just to be sure.”

And all he can do is nod and try not to let out a bitter laugh at the irony of all of this.

—

Hannah sits in her office.

It’s late and Clay hadn’t been excited about it but she is nowhere near done with her work. And maybe she is also kind of hiding from the situation at home. Sometimes she secretly wonders whether her husband is being in the way of her success on purpose. Maybe because he is jealous, even though he rarely puts it into words.

Or maybe he is still suspicious of Mark — which he does put into words. And he isn’t necessarily wrong to be.

Because she knows she has a crush.

A dumb, silly, teenage kind of crush.

A stupid desire to be noticed by her attractive co-worker.

Be seen.

She knows it’s probably not going to get her anywhere other than in trouble but the feeling is there.

“You’re still here?”

Hannah startles at the unexpected voice coming from the door. She had thought she was the only one still at the office. But there is Mark, standing in the doorway, one arm propped casually against its frame, the other hanging by his side, hand wrapped around his phone.

She looks up at him. “Yeah, but I was about to head home in a minute,” she replies. “Just finishing up.”

“Have you been working on the presentation I asked for?” Mark smiles.

“Sure.” She glances at him.

“Can I have a look real quick?”

He briefly looks behind himself as if to check if there was anyone else around — but the corridor behind him is empty, all lights are shut off — then he closes the door.

Hannah swallows. She attempts to rise from her desk chair to make room, but Mark is already standing behind her, his hands on her shoulder, pinning her down. “Stay,” he says in a tone that is soft and demanding at the same time. “I can see it from here.”

He’s bent over, looking past her back, his hands heavy on her shoulders, applying a slight, but somewhat unsettling pressure. Her heart beats, and while a little part of her is excited another, a much bigger part feels an increasing discomfort.

“This is really good, Hannah,” Mark says, bending a little lower and intensifying the physical contact as he reaches for her keyboard to hit the forward button and click himself through the slides. “You absolutely nailed it.”

For once she doesn’t know how to feel about the praise. It had seemed increasingly arbitrary recently, really — making her a little insecure in the process. One moment he is impressed by something she had considered average work, and the next she looks for his approval for something she put a lot of effort into and he dismisses with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

She put it down to the fact that he is under pressure to perform as well and his mood is influenced by that.

Right now, however, he is clearly into her work.

Or is he more into her?

It’s weird. She has looked up to him since the beginning of the project, and yeah, she’s had a bit of a crush. A little harmless excitement, causing a bit of a tingle in her stomach.

But now, all she can think of is Clay and her sons.

And all of a sudden, Mark’s hands on her shoulders feel too heavy. The sound of his breathing next to her ear causes shudders down her spine, but not in a pleasant way. And when he finally leans back a little so he can turn her chair around and look her in the eyes, she doesn’t know what to do.

He is going to kiss her.

She doesn’t want that.

Or does she?

It’s clear that he does. He doesn’t even give her time to decide whether to consent or not. Just bends forward and there it is, his lips on hers, his tongue demanding entrance.

It’s the most passive kiss on her end she has ever had and it leaves her with a bad taste in her mouth.

Mark doesn’t seem to notice. After the kiss he smiles at her. “You should call it a day,” he announces with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s getting late. Want a ride?”

“No,” Hannah hears herself respond. “I got my car fixed. I can drive myself.”

“Alright,” he says. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

Hannah feels her eyes widen. “I was going to work from home tomorrow.”

But Mark shakes his head. “We have a critical meeting tomorrow. I need your presence here at the office.” His smile widens. “Let’s go over everything while we have breakfast at Monet’s. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Hannah feels helpless as she nods.

Clay is not going to like it.

—

“I’m sorry,” Bobby says calmly, “for being impatient with you sometimes.” He is sitting on their bed, watching Tamara fold her clothes back into her closet. They had had a courier pick up all of her stuff from Clay’s and Hannah’s place earlier today and low it’s lying in a heap on their bed.

Bobby is in charge of Ella now.

And that means he controls them both.

Her plan failed — obviously. Even if things proceed and Bobby’s name is deleted from their daughter’s birth certificate, Tamara has a criminal record now and in a custody hearing that fact will not go down well.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Bobby asks her.

Tamara shrugs.

“I mean, are you listening at all?” he reinforces his request for her attention. “I’m saying sorry here.” He clears throat to continue in a slightly louder voice, “I’m apologizing to you. The least you could do was say something, especially since you were the one who left me.” He pauses again, then, accusingly, “with our daughter.”

At the mention of Ella Tamara raises her head. The one year old is in her nursery all by herself. Until a moment ago, Tamara could see her building a tower of toy bricks but now she is out of sight.

Tamara glances at Bobby, takes in how he has one knee pulled up on the bed, his large hands folded in his lap. Tamara briefly thinks of their early days as a couple, remembering that once there was a time, she had felt protected in his presence.

But — in hindsight — who would he protected her from, really?

From guys like Justin?

Couldn’t be — because, well … the moment it was about what he wanted, Bobby was more than ready to share Tamara with Justin — for one night, anyway. Or even for another, if their plan hadn't worked out so well.

Or maybe he’d protect her from men like Justin’s big, but clearly harmless gay neighbor Bear? A man who probably hadn’t ever hurt a woman in his life.

Still sitting on the bed, Bobby sighs. “Look, I want to make this work. I want to make us work. You and me. I’m committed and I’m going to make it so that you feel good again as well.”

In the room next door, the tower Ella had built crashes down and Tamara can hear her daughter cry out in frustration.

“I need to go, see if she’s okay,” she tells Bobby.

“We’re not done talking yet,” he replies, catching her by the arm. His fist is wrapped around her forearm, iron tight and strong. “I mean, she’ll just have to wait a minute.”

“But she might’ve hurt herself,” Tamara insists.

“I said in a minute.” Bobby sighs again. “All I need is for you to say what you want me to do to make us work and then you can go and mollycoddle her.”

Tamara looks back and forth between her husband and the open doorway to the nursery. “I … I don’t know.”

Bobby’s expression is all calm and unfazed. He must hear his daughter crying in the next room. But he is focused on Tamara instead, suggesting, “how’s this — I’m going to hire a nanny.”

“So I can go back to work?” Tamara asks, surprised.

“Work? I don’t want the little one being raised by a stranger. No, just a few hours a week, so the two of us can spend some time together. Like, go out for dinner. Hit the gym. That sort of thing. You’ll feel more comfortable once you’re back to your old shape.”

Ella is still crying, and Tamara’s stomach is clenched up tightly. But she nods, hoping Bobby would be satisfied and let her go and tend to their wailing child.

“Fine, that’s settled then.” With a smug look on his face, he pushes himself to his feet and lets go of her tense, slightly shaking arm as he walks out and dismisses her from the conversation.

Tamara closes her eyes for a second, willing away the lingering feeling of his iron tight fist on her skin, then she hurries into the next room to take her child into her arms.

—

When Hannah comes into the restaurant Lainie can instantly tell that something is wrong.

“I need to make a confession,” she says as soon as she slips into her chair.

Lainie raises her eyebrows, surprised at how they are jumping right into the conversation. Prepared to hear something really disturbing, she sends Hannah an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”

“I shared a kiss with another man” Hannah is avoiding her eyes as she says it, looking down at her hands.

Lainie watches her for a moment, trying to figure out how this knowledge affects her. After all, it sounds like she betrayed Clay. 

But something about the situation is off. It’s only a gut feeling, really, but Lainie isn’t really sure if her son is the victim in this.

Or rather: the only victim.

“Did you kiss another man or did he kiss you?” Lainie asks for clarification after a moment of hesitant silence on both ends.

She shrugs. “He kissed me, I guess. But does it matter? I cheated on Clay.”

Lainie lets the conversation pause for another moment. Then she asks slowly, “did you want him to kiss you?”

“I dunno.”

“That’s not a yes,” Lainie points out.

“Well, maybe it was a yes,” Hannah replies with a helpless shrug. “Maybe not. I’m really confused. I dunno what happened at that moment. We were at the office … it was late. No one else was still there. And then he came in —“ she breaks off there to catch a deep breath. “I think you’re right, though. I didn’t want him to kiss me. It made me uncomfortable.”

“Then it was sexual harassment,” Lainie tells her. “He didn’t have your consent.”

Hannah scowls unhappily. “I still think it’s my fault though.”

Lainie reaches out to touch her arm. “What makes you feel that way?”

Hannah looks up into Lainie’s eyes, a pained look clouding her face. “I liked Mark. Ever since I was assigned to his project. And I’m pretty sure he noticed. He was just acting on the signals that I sent him.”

Lainie has heard stories like that before from friends and coworkers — most of it when she was younger and neither she nor they understood the dynamics yet. It’s a common misconception, one that makes possible, sometimes even easy to get away with sexual assault. Let your victim believe that they’re at fault.

“A person knows when they have consent, and Mark didn’t have it at that moment,” Lainie explains calmly. “He knew and he kissed you anyway because he also knew that you weren’t going to say no. Even if you didn’t like him at all, you’d have to worry about the effect it’d have on your career if you turned him down.”

“But I think I had a bit of a crush on him,” Hannah admits abashedly. “And I’m so sorry because Clay doesn’t deserve this.”

Lainie inhales, letting the air escape slowly. “Sweetheart, we all have crushes. We don’t automatically turn blind once we put a ring on our finger. That doesn’t mean that we actually consider betraying our spouse.” She pauses. “You didn’t do anything wrong while he forced you into a situation you didn’t want to be in. That's hardly your fault, dear.”

“And yet — Clay won’t like it,” Hannah points out. “I mean, we‘ve had problems in our marriage before. The thing with Mark — that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Do you want me present when you tell him?” Lainie asks softly. “He is going to be hurt, and rightfully so, but he doesn’t understand the circumstances. I can help explain.”

“I’m not sure,” Hannah sighs. “Maybe.”

“Or perhaps you would like to have someone more neutral? Someone professional?”

“You mean … like — marriage counseling?” Hannah asks hesitantly. “I dunno. I mean … I do think we might benefit from it. And besides, you have enough on your plate as it is.”

Lainie smiles. “No matter what — I’m here for you.”

“Although I cheated on your son?”

“You were sexually assaulted.”

“Either way —“ Hannah gives her a long, serious look, “can we keep it between the two of us until I tell Clay? I will be honest with him in a day or two, I promise. But I need a moment to figure out how. And, um …”

“And what?”

“Well, I need to process what you told me.” She sighs. “Do you — do you have any advice on how to handle the situation with Mark?”

“Be direct. Say no,” Lainie replies instantly. “Accept the potential consequences for your career and don’t be afraid of them. Because you are good at what you do, with or without his support.” She pauses. Then she adds in a more quiet and serious voice, “also, avoid being alone with him. No late night office meetings, no lunches or dinners with just the two of you.”

Hannah chews on her lips. “He’s going to make it difficult for me.”

Lainie shakes her head. “I don’t think he will. If you are clear with your boundaries and show no insecurities most guys back off. And remember, I am always available for legal advice. Always. We can even file a lawsuit, if you want.”

“No, I don’t think I want that right now.” But Hannah smiles, looking a bit more confident than she did before their conversation. “Thank you so much, Lainie.”

—

Being at home is a blessing.

Sure, the clinic wasn’t the worst place Matt had ever seen — it was all warm colors and soft natural light shining in wherever possible. But nothing beats reclining on his own couch, reading a good book and having his family around him all the time

Unfortunately, for both of their sake, Toto had to move into another room for the time being, his basket and his favorite toys now deposited in Lanie’s study.

Lainie had been hesitant about his presence around Matt and his impaired immune system, especially since the dog hadn’t finished his initial series of vaccinations yet, but on the other hand he is clean and in good health. So for now they decided on just minimizing contact but keeping the puppy in the house.

It’s Saturday night, the ending of an all boys’ day at the Jensens’ with Lainie away for the weekend to hold a guest lecture at a symposium she was invited to and Hannah having to assist her own mother with some of the more challenging household chores.

Even though it’s been a few days since he came off the real heavy medications, Matt’s appetite hadn’t  returned but nonetheless Justin had insisted on cooking something for them all. And that is where he currently is, standing in the kitchen, with Mateo sitting on the counter and handing him ingredients — just like it used to be with him and Matt when Justin was a child himself.

All the tables are turned these days, or so it seems. Now it’s Matt who gets to sit on the couch, waiting for dinner to be ready, his sons’ eyes repeatedly on him when they think he doesn’t notice, the look in them dark with concern.

“Look, boys, I appreciate you worrying about your old man,” he finally calls when he feels like he can take it no longer, “but I promise that I am tougher than I look, especially right now. So don’t overdo it with the fuss.”

“Not a chance,” Clay replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’ve had a lifetime of fussing. Now it’s your turn to endure it.”

Matt smirks at the conspicuous look his sons exchange after that as Justin sticks his head through the kitchen door.

Matt doesn’t object to Clay’s words but truth be told — despite everything — it does not feel like it’s supposed to be his role. And it’s not like the boys don’t have enough going on in their lives to give him a reason to worry as well.

Take Clay, for instance — Matt knows every detail about what’s going on with him and Hannah. And sure enough, Clay still needs his father’s guidance, navigating his marriage problems.

It’s slightly more complicated with Justin — as it almost always is. What happened with Tamara and little Ella should be putting him on edge. Matt would have understood if he were irritable and moody but so far all afternoon he acted pretty normal — calm, really — and that makes Matt suspicious.

Lainie said earlier that their son was optimistic that he would be able to help his friend — “he’s had a lengthy conversation with Jessica Davis, Tamara’s legal advisor”. She had also told Matt that it made her optimistic that they needn’t worry about him too much. But knowing her, Matt is almost sure that her optimism is just a cover-up to keep her concern hidden from her sick husband.

She should have known that he’d see right through it. Sick or not — nothing’s keeping Matt from watching over his sons — even if they’re adults now — and do whatever he can do for as long as they need him. And if it’s the only thing keeping him in this world then so be it.

He snorts to himself at how dramatic it’d sound if he’d say it out loud.

“Here we go,” Justin’s voice cuts through Matt’s thoughts. He comes into the room from the kitchen, gloved hands carrying a steaming tray of homemade lasagna.

“Smells good,” Matt smiles as he struggles to get himself into an upright position on the couch and finally to his feet. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach much of the rich food — honestly, the smell alone makes him feel almost full — but he is more than willing to try.

‘High calorie foods, in small but frequent portions,’ that’s what the doctor said to him.

He notices his sons exchange another look. But then Clay calls out for Mateo and Ollie, and Justin reaches for Matt‘s plate to fill it.

Oliver‘s eyes light up as he pulls out a chair and all but jumps on top. He holds out his plate excitedly, while Mateo looks sceptically at the concoction his uncle made for dinner. “I dunno if I like it,” he announces.

Justin raises his eyebrows. “You helped cook it, buddy.” He chuckles.

“Yeah … and it smells good … but … it looks … weird.“ The almost seven year old‘s nose is wrinkled but he, too, accepts a well-sized portion.

“I hope it’s Dad’s recipe,” Clay mutters. “No funny extra stuff to up the protein or something.”

“Would probably benefit Dad,” Justin replies with a shrug. “But no worries, I stuck to the original.”

After that, however, he becomes uncharacteristically quiet. No teasing Clay or trying to pull his leg by betting on the loudest burp or the biggest bite with his nephews. He loads his own plate with a huge amount of lasagna, but manages barely half of it — which is also not a good sign.

By the time they cleaned the table it’s Matt’s turn to exchange a worried glance with Clay as Justin and the kids get ready to leave the house for an evening round with Toto.

“Any news from Tamara?” Matt takes the opportunity to ask once the three of them are out the door.

But Clay just gives a brief shake of his head. “Not that I know of.” He sucks his bottom lip, thoughtfully, then shakes his head again. “Justin’s been pretty hesitant to share anything with me but … well, maybe he doesn’t really know anything, either.”

“Must be unsettling,” Matt sighs.

“Yeah.” Clay looks out the window for a second, his eyes unfocused, then he faces Matt again. “Listen, Dad, I don’t want you to worry so much. I mean … I know it’s easier said than done. I know that all the better since I became a dad. But … honestly. You worry about getting healthy, and leave the rest to me and Mom.”

Matt leans back in his chair, a little smile on his face. “So you don’t want me to be concerned about you and Hannah, either?”

“Nah.” Clay clears his throat. “We’ll figure it out.”

Matt nods. Clay is going to come and ask if he needs his advice. “Chess?” he asks his son instead. “Not that I don’t enjoy playing with Mateo … but I do like a little bit of a challenge now and then.”

“It takes hours,” Clay replies, but then he shrugs. “But why not? The boys don’t have school tomorrow, and Justin’s expert at keeping them occupied. It‘ll probably do him good. You know how much they adore him.” And he goes to collect the chessboard from the cupboard in the living room.

—

Hannah is more tense than usual tonight. When she comes downstairs from putting their sons to bed, she has her arms crossed in a way that looks almost like she is hugging herself, and she sits on the couch looking at Clay.

“We need to talk,” she says, her voice low but steady.

“Oh-oh,” Clay mutters, putting his PlayStation controller on the coffee table after pausing his game. “You sound real serious.”

Hannah’s leg bounces, a clear sign that she is nervous. “Yeah, um … listen. You remember my colleague — Mark? I told you about him —”

Clay feels the tension between them rise. The name Mark had caused turmoil in the house before. “What about him?”

Hannah inhales and then she says, quietly, “he kissed me. At the office. When I stayed so long the other night.”

Expecting to hear something bad and actually hearing it are two different things entirely. Expecting it had made Clay nervous. Anxious. But it left room for the unthinkable to not have happened. Knowing that it did happen hurts. A lot.

“You cheated?” he asks, just as quiet. “You kissed your co-worker?”

Hannah shakes her head. She has her bottom lip sucked in, chewing on it. Then she says, “no. He kissed me.”

“Same difference,” Clay snaps.

Hannah frowns at him. “No, it’s not,” she replies. “He kissed me, and I didn't want him to.”

The anxiety he had felt turns into a heavy ball of mixed emotions now, sitting in Clay’s stomach like a huge stone.

She didn’t want it? What a stupid excuse. Guys in offices don’t walk around, randomly kissing their female colleagues. There must have been some sort of signal she must have been giving him.

“Clay?”

He looks at his wife, biting his tongue to avoid saying something immature. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally gets out between gritted teeth.

“Clay, it’s very complicated, and I get why you’re upset. But you should be mad at him, not me.”

“Hard to,” Clay mutters.

Hannah scoffs. “Do I need to have your brother come over and explain to you that touching someone and being touched are two different things?” 

Clay huffs. That statement hit home. “You mean … he, like —“

“He assaulted me,” Hannah confirms before Clay can put it into words.

She knows that Clay would understand it if she pointed out that his brother had gone through similar, in parts even worse experiences. And still, it's different, Clay reminds himself. She works with Mark. She had been out on a drink with him. And was neither drugged nor a five year old child, when the kissed happened.

Still, he’s willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. “So you didn’t, like, have an affair?”

“No.” Then, “can you please believe me?”

Clay doesn’t answer. It’s all so overwhelming and part of him just can’t quite get past his hurt feelings.

Hannah keeps glancing over. All of a sudden, she looks very exhausted. After a long moment of silence she exhales and says, “Mark and his bullshit aside, have you ever thought about … I mean, do you think we should … like, try marriage counseling? Because I can see that you don’t trust me.”

“I want to.” Clay looks down at his hands. “But just imagine if the tables were turned. You’d be hurt as well. And besides, if you suggest counseling it’s hard to believe that you didn’t at least, like, think about kissing him.”

“I didn’t. But it’s complicated,” she tells him quietly.

“Sure is,” he murmurs.

“I will make an appointment with a counselor,” Hannah decides. “Do you agree? Because I want to be with you, but lately, I guess, we kind of maneuvered ourselves and our relationship into a dead end.”

Clay looks at his wife and finally nods. “Yes. Maybe it’s going to help.” He pauses. “But … how are you going to … I mean, what’re you gonna do about Mark?”

Hannah looks him straight in the eyes. “Avoid him from now on. And if he does something like that again, I will take legal actions.”