Page 16 of For the Rest of Forever

“You’ll be okay. And I’ll be there with you the whole time, and if you need to lean on me, please do.” Greg’s voice was quiet and full of sincerity and concern, and Allen let himself believe it. Not that he doubted the words—he always believed Greg’s words. But he also needed to let himself believe that Greg actually wanted to be here with him and really did support him and that, despite the fact that his husband had a different view, he wasn’t going to resent Allen for standing up for his own beliefs about how this needed to go.

Greg pulled his hand away to turn into the parking lot at the police station, and Allen took the moment as Greg was finding a parking spot in the small lot to close his eyes and try to let his mind settle.

He’d recognized one of the three other cars already in the lot as belonging to David Johnston—the father of one of the teens—and suddenly everything seemed more real.

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Greg reached over and put his hand on Allen’s. “You can do this, darling. I’ll be there for you. Are you ready?”

No, he wasn’t. But he had to be. This was how it needed to go.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

***

The two teenagers stoodtogether with their parents near a desk just off to the right as Allen walked ahead of Greg into the building. Right away, Allen could see they looked remorseful—their shoulders hunched and their hands shoved in their pockets. And although everyone else seemed to turn to him as soon as he walked through the door, both boys continued to stare at their feet, unmoving. Allen forced himself not to lower his own gaze when the boys’ parents looked at him, and instead, he gave a tight smile.

Sheriff Mike, whom Greg and Allen had known for decades, met them near the front door, his expression serious but welcoming.

“Thank you both for coming. I realize it wasn’t an easy decision,” Mike said, and Allen nodded slightly. He felt Greg’s hand slip into his, and the familiar touch was comforting. Mike cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Both boys have written letters for you, but I think those are for you to read later. Jan has them, and she’ll give them to you when you leave. And Allen, I know you said you didn’t want to press charges, but they were both arraigned this morning, both pleaded guilty to vandalism and destructionof public property. Judge Hawthorn took your statement into consideration, Allen, and gave thema whole lotof community service hours. Their parents had to pay sizable fines as well.”

Allen had known or assumed most of that already from earlier communications with the sheriff, but he nodded as Mike explained, trying to keep himself focused and calm. Greg squeezed his hand gently, a silent reminder of his support, and Mike gave Allen and Greg a small nod.

“Ready, Allen?” Mike asked.

“Yeah.” Allen’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, but he forced a smile and let Mike lead them the rest of the way into the bullpen, over toward where the boys stood with their parents.

Allen recognized all of them—David and Sue Johnston with their son, Owen, and Pete and Heather Tanner with their son, Christopher. Next to them was Cheryl, one of the deputy sheriffs, who gave Allen a kind smile and nod as they approached. The two boys still didn’t look up.

David stepped forward first, offering his hand. Allen tried to steady himself as he reached out and shook David’s hand, but he could feel that he was still trembling.

“Mr. Westin, I know my son will have his own apology to make,” David started, “but I’d like to say, on behalf of my wife and I, that we are deeply, deeply sorry for Owen’s actions. We raised him to be a respectful young man, and he failed you and the whole community.”

Pete nodded in agreement and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Christopher too. We’re appalled and disappointed that this happened, and—” Pete cut himself off, his face turning red with anger as his eyes shifted to his son.

Allen pursed his lips, holding his breath for a second while he gathered his courage. The boys both seemed to shrink more, both frowning, both looking as uncomfortable as Allen felt. There wereno hints even of the hate and bravado they’d both had on Sunday afternoon. And neither of them looked the least bit threatening.

“Sometimes...” Allen paused as both boys looked up at him. Owen seemed as though he was close to tears, and Christopher’s expression held an anxiety that Allen was all too familiar with. Allen shook his head gently and gave the boys a smile, which seemed to come easier than he’d expected. “Sometimes,” he started again, “people make mistakes. Sometimes they’re just little mistakes that don’t mean much, and sometimes they’re big mistakes that have... massive repercussions or are... harmful.”

Greg’s hand squeezed his again, and Allen returned the gesture, then he blinked and let himself look down for a moment.

“Your actions were harmful, both in terms of property damage and—and to me, personally,” Allen continued, keeping his eyes down still. “I don’t know if either of you understand just how much. And I hope you never have to experience my side of this.”

He finally looked back up, and both boys were watching him still. In fact, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He let out a shuddering breath and then smiled at them again.

“I don’t know what led to your decision that day, and I don’t need to know. But I hope”—his breath hitched as Christopher sniffled and then reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek—“both of you take the time to think about your actions and how they affect others. And I hope both of you realize that anger and hatred shouldn’t have a place in how you interact with others and the world.”

From next to him, he sensed Greg nodding, and the boys’ parents were also nodding.

Allen took a deep breath to steady himself. His chest felt tight as he looked from Christopher to Owen, and he tipped his head to them as he blinked back his own emotions, which were strong and intense and even a little unbalancing.

“I forgive you,” he said to Christopher, and he stepped away from Greg and offered the boy his hand. Christopher hesitated for a second, biting at his lower lip, but then he reached out and shook Allen’s hand.

“Th-thank you, sir,” the boy said.

Allen nodded and turned to Owen. “I forgive you,” he repeated, and again, he offered Owen his hand. Owen’s tears fell freely now, and he sniffled, swiped at his cheeks, then wiped his hand on his pants before shaking Allen’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Westin,” Owen said. He couldn’t quite look at Allen, and he shoved his hands back into his pockets and stubbed his shoe into the floor. “I—I was the one who filmed it, and it was my idea, and I just—it was a shitty thing to do and—”

“Owen!” his mom, Sue, interrupted, and Owen flinched.

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