Page 20 of Spring Rains

Concerned, I grabbed the closest plate of pastries that were cooling, and followed, knocking on his door. “Fox, can I come in?” He mumbled a quiet assent, and as I entered, plate of pastries first, I couldn’t help but see the redness around his eyes. “Is everything okay? Is it your papa?”

He winced, then shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “Not him, no. It’s nothing. Just school stuff.”

I sat beside him, trying to offer comfort. “I’m making some pastries for a taste test. Could use your opinion.”

Fox picked one up, whatever his mood, he could always eat, and then, with a hand under the pastry, he took a bite, and the flakiness and sweetness all seemed to hit him at the same time.

“S’good,” he murmured, and finished the delicate thing in about four bites. I was hesitant to bring up school, but it was something I had to do, even if it stirred up trouble and made Fox mad.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about school, right? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

He nodded. “I just… I don’t fit in, Dad. I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “It’s only your third day, Fox, yeah? I know it’s tough but give it time. You’ll find your place, make friends. You’re an amazing kid.”

He leaned into me. “Thanks, Dad.”

Since his fourteenth birthday a few months before, Fox had hit a growth spurt that took us both by surprise. He’d shot up overnight, and was fast catching up to my height, but he still tucked under my arm for now.

With this sudden change came a certain awkwardness, and all the hormones driving his moods. Fox hadn’t quite gotten used to his new, taller body. I would often catch him bumping into doorframes. He moved with a cautiousness that hadn’t been there before, as if he were constantly recalibrating his spatial awareness, and he’d often frown at his reflection, probably not even recognizing the young man he was becoming. I’d seen the frustration in his eyes, the struggle to adapt to a body that seemed to change every day. He wriggled free and brushed himself down.

“Want to tell me what happened today?” I asked as if it wasn’t important for him to confide in me.

He shrugged, and I thought that was all I was going to get; however, it seemed the pastry had magical properties. “Mrs. Collins, the science teacher, asked us to pair off in science and, of course, I was the odd one out, so she asked for a volunteer pair to add me, and no one offered apart from these best friends from when they were born—Clarke and Ainsley—and they’re nice, but I’m just going to be the odd one out.” He sighed, then straightened. “I’ll be okay.”

I got the feeling he was being brave for me, but I side-hugged him. “Sure, you will.”

His cell vibrated, and he turned it in his hand, the nameCLARKEappeared on the screen, and he frowned. “What does he want?” he muttered, but connected the FaceTime.

“Foxy!” this Clarke boy announced, and I smothered my smile—Fox hated being called that; only in some kind of miracle, he didn’t correct Clarke; and oh my god, was Fox smiling at the other kid?

“Hey,” he said to Clarke, and there was that beautiful, honest-to-godsmile.

“So, I have Ainsley here as well, about this freaking science project. I can’t believe she made you sit there wondering where you were going. Jesus H Joseph, you’re in our group, I told her we’re a three.”

Another voice chimed in. “Hey, Foxy, and yeah, he really told her, came out with all this shit after class about new student victimization, and she went green.”

“That shit was funny!” Clarke smirked.

I gestured at Fox’s phone, and he turned the screen to put me front and center. “This is my dad,” he announced to Ainsley and Clarke in that tone that told me he was just placating me.

The two boys—one a classic jock, the other with pink streaks in his hair, eyes smudged with kohl, and lips bright with gloss—glanced at each other with an oops-he-heard-us-cursing expression, then they chorused: “Hi, Mr. Bennett!”

“Hi, guys.” I slid another pastry onto Fox’s side table and winked. “I’ll leave you to it.”

I headed downstairs, feeling lighter. Seems like Fox may have his first friends.

* * *

I was wipingdown the counter when a knock sounded at the door of the diner. It was late, and the street outside was quiet, draped in shadows and snow. I peered through the glass, spotting a tall, dark figure standing outside. There was something about him—the way he held himself, muscles tense, eyes watchful—that sent a ripple of unease through me. I was so over feeling intimidated by big men, but self-preservation was a thing.

Despite my disquiet, I went to the door to get a closer look. After all, I’d been trying to get to know everyone in town, to make a good impression as the new owner, but this man… he was different. Without making it obvious, I fished out my phone and sent a quick message to Neil, the local sheriff, whom I’d programmed into my phone for emergencies, and then, I let the stranger in. His larger-than-life presence filled the space, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit cornered, despite the fact the light from the diner spilled out onto the street and anyone passing could see us both.

“Evening,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Can I help?”

He checked around the diner before his gaze settled on me. “I’m Connor Mason,” he said. His voice was deep, with a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface.

“Hi.” I nodded, feeling nervous.

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