Page 62 of Dean

“He is.”

“Well, I’m glad you have someone. It’s been years since you’ve been into anyone…years since Mom.”

“Yeah. But it was okay. I had a son to raise,” I say, and Ben bobs his head, and then he reaches over and pulls me into an awkward side hug. I pat his back, and then Ben pulls away and shoots a thumb over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna go back inside. Good talk.”

Just as he turns to leave, Ford comes out, his dark gaze on my son before it snaps to me.

“Everything okay here?” he asks, and I nod my head.

Ben flushes an even darker shade of red and moves past him, stumbling inside the garage.

“What’s that about?” I ask my best friend, and Ford just shrugs his shoulders, averting his eyes.

Obviously, something is going on, but I don’t have time to deal with it right now. Ben is an adult and whatever he’s gotten himself into, he can get out of. If he needs me, he knows he can always cometalk to me. Not that I’m much of a talker, but I’ll always support my son.

He’s the best thing about me and Elaine.

Like I told Avery before, I can see her in his face, in the way he smiles and laughs. He inherited all the best parts of her.

I follow my son back inside and glance up toward the door where Avery is, but I don’t go to him, despite wanting to. Instead, I just head back to the car I was working on before all this shit went down and get back to work.

I’ll talk with him after the shop closes. We can figure this out.

The walk to the car is silent, as if both of us are waiting for the other to say something first. When the two of us settle into the cab, Avery fiddles with the hem of his skirt and peers out the side window, wordless.

I swallow nervously, turning the key in the ignition and listening to the rough rumble beneath my feet.

“We should really talk about it,” I finally say, and Avery nods.

“We totally should.”

But we don’t. We just stare at everything but each other as we ride down the road. When we finally arrive at my place, Avery slips out of the car before I even put it in Park and rushes inside.

“Fuck,” I murmur and follow him in. When I enter, I see that he’s at the fridge, his hands fluttering around inside. He’s probably trying to distract himself by making dinner.

“Avery,” I say, and he peers over at me, his cheeks flushed, eyes slightly watery. I step closer to him, our shoes bumping. I can smell him, the very scent of Avery.

He peers everywhere but me, blinking furiously. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have like…offered myself up. It was wrong of me. I feel so stupid. And Ben, he must hate me. God, you’re his dad…”

I’m silent for a moment, words unable to come. But when they do, they’re meaningful. “But…I wanted to touch you. It’s me who should be apologizing. And Ben doesn’t care. He likes you.”

His mouth opens and then closes. “Wait.What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not sure I did.”

“Which part did you miss?”

“All of it.”

“Okay, well Ben doesn’t mind it, he’s fine, and…I said I wanted to touch you.”

His cheeks pinken. “You’re not shitting me?”

“No.” My finger meets the end of his skirt and I fiddle with the fabric there.

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