I blinked, coming back to earth. “Sorry—I just—”
“I know. I love you,” he said, leaning down to look at me through the open window. His hazel eyes were steady.
“I love you too. I feel like I’m going to fucking die,” I said honestly as I opened my door.
We walked up to the house together, not touching, not holding hands, just in step. Together. The house seemed daunting right now, though it never was. It was a normal home, ranch style, with a huge wrap around porch that held a thousand memories. It could use new paint; Scott knew that, he just put it off every year it seemed. There were bikes leaned against the railing and a pair of muddy work boots by the door.
We got to the door, and I knocked on it. The sound echoed. The wait for Scott to answer felt like drawing out my own death. I swear we stood there for two hours, listening to the cicadas scream in the trees, before the door swung open.
My heart fell to the floor immediately.
Scott looked at me with a huge smile and pulled me into a hug. It always felt so strange seeing Scott after a long time apart. The older I got, the more I favored him. My face was more chiseled like his, my hair color was a lighter shade of brown, nearly blonde like his, and our eyes were nearly identical. It always felt as though I was looking at a reflection of myself, who I treaded the line of becoming if I wasn’t careful with my own sanity.
“It’s good to see you, son!” he said as he hugged me, smelling of sawdust, motor oil, and Old Spice.
As soon as he pulled away, he noticed Cal standing behind me. He raised a brow, surprise flickering across his face.
”Uh, Scott, you remember Callum Kincaid, don’t you?” I said awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck.
Thankfully Cal took the lead, noticing my brain short circuiting on where the fuck to go from here.
“It’s good to see you again,” Scott said, recovering quickly and extending a hand out to Cal.
“Good to see you too, sir,” Cal said, shaking his hand firmly. He stood tall, respectful, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Come in, come in,” Scott said, ushering us out of the heat. “Don’t stand out there letting the bugs in.”
We walked into the living room. It hadn’t changed in twenty years. Same worn leather couches that swallowed you whole, same photos of the family on the mantle, me training, the twins in diapers, Maverick looking grumpy at a barbecue.
“How was the flight?” Scott asked, heading to the kitchen to grab us waters.
“Brutal,” I admitted, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Tourist season started early. The airport was a zoo.”
“Tell me about it,” Scott called back, the fridge door opening. “Trying to get to the hardware store is a nightmare these days. Traffic backed up to the bridge. So, how’s training going?Empireis just around the corner. You guys feel ready?”
“Going good,” Cal answered, taking the seat next to me but leaving a respectful distance. “Silas is hitting harder than ever. We’re ready. The card is stacked.”
“And Evan?” Scott handed us the waters, wiping condensation off the bottles. “Still bouncing off the walls?”
“Still Evan,” I laughed, though it sounded hollow to my own ears. “He sent his love. Or, well, he sent an inappropriate joke, which is basically the same thing.”
Scott chuckled, shaking his head. He sat in his recliner, crossing his legs comfortably. He was looking between us. The silence stretched a little too long. I was picking at a loose thread on my jeans, unraveling it. Cal was staring at the floor, his leg bouncing nervously.
“So,” Scott started, his tone casual but curious. He set his glass down on a coaster. “I gotta ask. What’s the Champ doing here on his off week? Shouldn’t you be in Philly with your folks? Or basking in the glory somewhere fancy?”
I froze. This was it. The air left the room.
I looked at Cal. Cal looked at me. He gave me a barely perceptible nod, a silentI’m right here. Take your time.
I hesitated. My throat felt like it was closing up. I looked around the room, desperate for an out. “Is… is anyone else home?”
Scott paused. He set his tea down slowly. He looked at me, sensing the shift in the air. The “Dad Radar” pinging loudly.
“No,” Scott said softly. “Jayme took the girls prom dress shopping in Wilmy. They won’t be back until later this afternoon. It’s just us.”
Just us.
I took a deep breath. I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the jagged rocks below.
