Because, despite the reprieve Oliver offered, an angry teenager still sulked silently next to Nick as the miles on the highway rolled by. He would always love his son, but liking Hayden was difficult these days, and the shame of that ate at Nick more every day.
He’d emailed Oliver his STI test results as soon as he’d found them. If it made him look overeager, so be it.
“Dad?” Hayden’s voice dragged him back to the present. It was bittersweet that, despite everything, Hayden still called him “Dad." Nick didn’t feel very qualified for the job most of the time.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can we get something to eat? I’m starving.”
Nick sighed. Anya would say he shouldn’t reward bad behavior with things like junk food. And strictly speaking, Hayden’s house arrest conditions meant they were supposed to drive straight home from the courthouse with no deviations. But they’d waited almost three hours for their case to be called, and Nick was hungry too.
Billboards advertised fast-food joints and a gas station a few miles up. If the probation officer kicked up a stink about them stopping, Nick could say they had needed gas.
“Sure, buddy,” he said. “Do you want burgers or pizza?”
* * *
Oliver was chopping mangoes when the bell above the door at the front of the shop chimed. Technically, he’d already closed for the day, but he’d take even latecomers if they were interested in buying something. He poked his head out into the front of the store and was disappointed to see Seb and Martin. Martin smiled, but Seb’s grin was a little more uncomfortable.
“Hey!” Oliver did his best to sound upbeat. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We’re here for the workshop,” Martin said.
“Martin thinks you need help setting up.” Seb scanned the shop without ever meeting Oliver’s gaze.
“Wewantto help set up.” Martin ignored Seb’s pout and shrugged out of his jacket.
“Not much left to do.” Oliver glanced around. The tall chairs faced the bar, and he’d brought six of his own chairs from home for people to sit closer. If a dozen people showed up, he’d call it a success, although he had forgotten to count his brother and Martin in that number.
Seb sighed heavily and sank into one of the tall chairs. It wobbled under him, and he glared at Oliver.
“What is your problem?” Oliver asked.
“Don’t mind him.” Martin put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s having a supply problem, and it’s making him grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy!” Seb crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m used to having the next book at my fingertips. Do you know how hard it is to find a pictorial history of mid-century manufacturing on the right grade of paper?”
Seb was an artist who worked with reclaimed books. His carvings had a decent following, but the last six months since the bookstore that used to be Seb’s source for new material—and also where Seb had lived in an upstairs apartment—burned down had been difficult. He was coping, and Martin’s moderating influence was all to the good, but losing easy access to new books clearly did nothing for Seb’s artistic temperament.
“Here.” Oliver went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle ofNeural Neutrality. He passed it to his drama queen brother.
“What is it?”
“Swiss chard, apricot, and carrot. It’s supposed to provide mental clarity and a calming effect.”
Seb rolled his eyes, but he took the drink.
“I’ve got a few more ingredients to prep, but you guys are welcome to hang out. It’s a bit tight in the back.” Oliver turned toward the kitchen.
“That’s what he said,” Seb muttered.
Oliver’s hands shook as he gripped the knife. Seb was an ass. But that tiger showed its stripes years ago, and Oliver still chose to move here.
Except he hadn’t meant to be in Seacroft alone. Cooper should have been here too. But Cooper made his choices, and now Oliver was making his.
As he finished the mangoes and started in on the carrots, a hushed but intense conversation took place in the front of the shop. Oliver couldn’t pick out the words, but Martin was clearly trying to make a point, and Seb was definitely opposed to it.
The conversation died, and Seb knocked on the doorframe over Oliver’s shoulder. His self-confident smirk wasn’t quite as bright as usual.
