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He came into the room and dropped onto the end of her bed.
“Are you going to be all right?”
Layne thought about her scars disappearing. “Yes. I always am.”
“I’m sorry if I seemed insensitive this morning. After hearing you were in a fire . . . after everything we went through when you were little . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, and now she could hear the emotion in his voice. “And then with your mother . . . It was . . . a lot.”
Layne went and sat next to him. “It’s okay.”
“I never liked you going to that barn by yourself, but I always worried about you taking a fall ”
“Dad. It’s fine.”
He put an arm around her and kissed her on the top of the head. “I know it’s not perfect right now. But I’m trying.”
“I know.” And she did. He was trying to keep doing what he’d always done working himself too hard, forgetting to eat, leaving it to someone else to keep dinner on the table and the family in order.
At one time it had been her mother.
Now it was Layne.
“Want to go watch Simon sit on the bench?” she said.
He kissed her on the head again, giving her another squeeze.
For a moment, she actually thought he might say yes.
But he stood. “I hate to leave you alone, but I need to head in to the office. My afternoon appointments were rescheduled for this evening, so . . .”
And she tuned him out.
She was back to square one. Familiar ground.
Alone.
The basketball game should have been dramatic, what with Ryan Stacey confined to the bench and Simon starting center.
Poetic justice would have dictated that the stands be packed, with Simon making the winning shot in the last seconds.
But it was only JV, and the first game of the season, so the bleachers weren’t crowded. The other team sucked and was barely organized enough to move the ball down the court.
But Simon was great. They were in the lead from the first shot.
And they won the game by twenty-two points.
“You said he can’t hear?” said Hunter as they filed off the stands. He’d stayed for the whole game. “You couldn’t prove it by me.”
Gabriel snorted and tossed his soda can into the recycling bin by the door. “Let’s hope the coach feels the same way.”
He’d been worried Hunter would judge him for the fire at the barn, for telling Nick, for something else he couldn’t quite identify. But Hunter had been steady as ever, listening as Gabriel rehashed his morning from a nearly empty section of the bleachers.
And then he’d said what he always did. “You want to stop?”
Gabriel didn’t.
He couldn’t. Even now, even after this morning, he could feel need burning under his skin, like a junkie going through with-drawal.
He wished he had his lighter.
