Hayden laughed, then spat into the sink as he turned the water on and let it run. The kitchen smelled sour.
“Areyousure?” Where Hayden’s face had been blotchy before, he’d gone pale now, all the color gone. Nick nodded, and Hayden shrugged. “There you go.”
“But—” Nick struggled. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me? Or your mom?”
Hayden’s face crumpled, tears tumbling down his face in fat drops. He shook his head. Nick dragged his feet across the floor, but when he was close enough to touch Hayden, hug him, tell him all the things a father was supposed to say in this situation, Hayden scrambled back, until he could get a chair between them again.
“Why didn’tyoutellme?” He gasped out wet sobs. “Huh? You’re so out and proud, why couldn’t you tell your own family? Don’t you think it might have helped for me to know something like that?”
Nick shook his head, his own throat going tight.
“You’re a shitty father, you know that? You’re supposed to be an example, a role model. And where the hell were you when I needed you?”
Every word cut at him, and he couldn’t stop his own tears. “I’m here now.”
What a stupid, useless thing to say.
Hayden laughed, and then his eyes widened. He stumbled back from the chair, banging against cabinets. A car pulled into the driveway.
“You can’t tell her,” Hayden said.
“What?”
“Mom. You can’t tell Mom.”
He turned back to the kitchen. “Hayden. She’ll understand.”
Hayden shook his head, hands on his cheeks. He backed away, toward the hall. “Please. You can’t tell her. She’ll want to talk about it, and I can’t...Please.” He was halfway to his room.
Nick’s stomach twisted, and he glanced out the window again. Anya stepped out of the car, then pulled a suitcase out of the trunk. She waved and smiled at the driver, and the falling feeling started to come back.
She couldn’t see them like this.
Hayden was ahead of him, the door to his bedroom slamming.
She couldn’t. Whatever Hayden was afraid of, she’d take one look at them, and know something had happened.
Nick took the coward’s route. He ran. Before Anya was at the door, long before she entered the kitchen, he was gone, into the basement. The workshop was silent and close. Less than a day ago, he’d been on his knees in front of Oliver. Less than a day ago, everything had been safe, separate.
Where the hell were you when I needed you?
Nick put his face in his hands and waited for the shaking to stop.
* * *
By Monday, Oliver could only try to stay busy at the store. He had stock to replenish—mostly old stock to throw out—and he was up to his elbows in Swiss chard when the bell over the front door chimed.
“I’ll be right out!” he called over the buzz of the juicer. The reply from whoever had come in was muffled.
Oliver’s eyes widened when he came out to see who it was. “Avery?”
“I’m okay.” Avery sat at the counter, head buried under his arms.
Oliver crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder, and Avery flinched away with a whimper that made Oliver take a step back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need—I need . . .” Watching him try to get the words out was painful. His voice wobbled with every sound. “I’ll be okay in a few minutes. Unless I puke my guts out again. Do you have a garbage can close by?”
