My stomach does a weird, swirly thing. Lunch doesn’t sound like a firing squad, exactly. But since I’m me, I’ll probably fuck it up somehow. Yet I can’t exactly turn him down.
Beck
Sounds great. Just tell me when and where.
I hit send and then check my thread with Forest.
Still nothing.
I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh.
Twelve
Free Seats are Free Seats
Forest
January
It turns out there are only so many back-to-back days of watching his son play video games that a man can endure before losing his mind. And on New Year’s Day, I’ve officially hit my limit.
“Charlie, maybe we could do something else?” I suggest from the kitchen, where I’m staring into the refrigerator, wondering what to make for dinner. Teenage boys really burn through the groceries.
“Like what?” Charlie asks without looking away from the TV. His thumbs move at superhuman speed across the controller. “Everything’s closed tonight.”
Unfortunately, true. We’re also in the middle of a cold snap, so the skiing I’d planned to do with him during our week together was nixed when we both decided that the icy wind was too much.
So here I am at hour eleventy billion of watching Charlie master Reavers of the Void on the PlayStation 5 that I bought him for Christmas.
On one hand, I hated to buy him a gift that reminded him of what was stolen from him. On the other hand, he hasn’t stopped playing with it since he opened it the day after Christmas. “Why don’t we…?” I trail off. What could we do? It’s fifteen degrees outside. “I don’t know. Play a board game? Go for a drive?”
Charlie snorts. “Dad, I’m about to level up my Voidlord to Tier 4. That’s like, impossible to do in one week.”
I give up. “Right. Of course. Very important.”
Just as I’m considering whether day drinking is an acceptable parenting choice, a sharp knock sounds at the front door.
On New Year’s Day? It can’t be Scully, because he’s busy covering all my shifts since I took the week off to spend time with Charlie.
I go to the door and peer through the peephole. Then my heart stutters in my chest.
Beck. He’s standing on my doorstep, cheeks flushed from the cold, looking unfairly attractive in a wool beanie and parka.
Uh-oh. I haven’t responded to his last several texts. But what was I supposed to say? Thanks for the great sex, but I have too much baggage to deal with your hotness right now?
And now here he is, at a not-ideal moment.
“You planning to open that door, or just stare through the peephole all day?” Charlie calls from the couch.
I take a deep breath and open the door. “Hey, Beck. This, uh, isn’t a great time.”
Beck’s blue eyes roll. “Dude, I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I get it. Message received. But I’m not here for sex. I came here for advice.” Even before I can process that sentence, Beck is pushing past me into the entryway. “Let me in. My balls are going to shrivel up, and the wings are getting cold.”
“The what?” I yelp, but it’s too late. Charlie is swiveling around, eyebrows raised in amusement as Beck stomps snow off his boots in the entryway.
“Hi,” my son says, his eyes darting between me and the stranger. “I’m Charlie.”
“Oh! You’re the kid,” Beck says, seemingly unfazed. He pushes a plastic bag into my hands. Then he shrugs off his parka and hangs it on the coat rack like he’s been here a hundred times. “Look at that sweet console. Are you playing Reavers of the Void?”
