Homecoming for Beginners

Chapter 1

FOR A SOLID ten seconds, Ty was convinced he was hallucinating. He didn’t know how else to explain the smokeshow on his father’s ostentatious front porch. Ty had seen his fair share of beautiful men, but this was ridiculous—broad shoulders and a lean, muscular body under a very friendly henley shirt, artfully mussed dark hair begging for Ty to run his fingers through it, and the kind of stubble movie stars paid big bucks for. With the sun just peeking over the tops of the trees, the guy’s skin actually glowed gold, so much so that Ty had to squint to look at him. And his eyes were the color of Ty’s father’s top-shelf brandy, which Ty had consumed last night in a less restrained manner than was advisable, which would explain the hallucination.

And the headache. Ty felt like death.

But then the guy said, “Hey, uh, I’m Ollie Kent. I’m looking for Leonard Morris? I’m supposed to start work for him today.”

Which settled the whole thing. If Ty were hallucinating a guy who looked like this, he wouldn’t be asking for Ty’s father. And he’d have a way sexier name than Ollie.

Ty blinked, and his eyes focused a little more, and—okay. The guy was good-looking, sure, but now that the sun had risen another degree and Ty’s vision had adjusted, he was ordinary enough—too short and round-faced to be a model. He looked like the kind of guy you asked to join your softball team or drank beer with.

Not that Ty planned to consume any more alcohol any time soon.

“Uh,” Ty said. He’d been back in town less than twenty-four hours, and it was a small town. News traveled fast. He hadn’t had to tell anyone else yet. Everyone who lived here already knew. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but he, uh.” He drove his car full speed into a knot of pine trees. “He died.”

Despite his resolve, Ty’s voice cracked on the second word.

Ollie’s eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly, and Ty could imagine the struggle. He obviously hadn’t been close to Leonard, or he would’ve known about the… accident. Which meant this was super awkward for him, because no Leonard meant no job, but focusing on that when someone had died made you look like an asshole.

“Oh,” Ollie said carefully. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ty snorted without meaning to. “Yeah, me too. Old man’s still ruining my life from beyond the grave.”

Then he registered the car in the winding circular driveway. Apart from the driver’s seat and the seat behind it, it was packed with cardboard boxes.

There was a kid in the back seat, a little boy with Ollie’s eyes and a messy head of auburn curls.

Fuck, did his dad ruin this guy’s life too? He cleared his throat. “Uh, maybe—do you want to come in? Because I… need coffee.” And Advil. So much Advil.

And a shower; fuck, he smelled like bourbon.

Ollie shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Come in,” Ty said more firmly, because suddenly the idea of sitting by himself in his parents’ kitchen, the site of untold childhood scoldings, seemed unfaceable. “Bring your—your kid?”

“Theo,” Ollie offered. He smiled with his whole body when he said the name.

So much coffee. “Bring him,” Ty said. “I haven’t gone shopping yet or anything, but the old man must’ve had something to eat in there somewhere. I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually live on the shattered dreams of his only child. Or we’ll order delivery… do you think Uber Eats comes out this far?” There was an IHOP in town. At least, there used to be a decade ago, the last time Ty set foot in the place.

“Uh,” said Ollie. He took a half step backward, which was when Ty realized it was pretty weird to invite total strangers into your house for breakfast, even if they looked like they could go totally HAM on a stack of pancakes. “Maybe it would be best if we just came back another day.”

Ty had the sudden horrible suspicion that if he let this man out of his sight, he’d evaporate and Ty would never see him again, hallucination or no. Ty couldn’t face it—not this big stupid monstrosity of a mausoleum, not breakfast, not the fact that he had to be presentable at his father’s funeral in less than three hours. Ollie and his kid might be total strangers and they might think Ty was a total freak of nature, and the only thing in his father’s kitchen—Ty’s, now, oh fuck —might be canned milk and maggoty flour. But right now Ty only cared about one thing, and his dignity wasn’t it. “Look,” he blurted, “I know it’s—weird. And we don’t know each other. And this is so not how you expected to spend your morning, I mean, clearly.” He gestured helplessly at the car, the kid, the boxes. What a clusterfuck. “But my asshole dad just died, and I would seriously love to not be alone in this stupid house for another minute.”

For a moment they stared at each other, both—Ty assumed—hyperaware of the tattered remains of his self-respect dying ignominiously on the intricate tile porch between them.

Finally Ollie cleared his throat. “Sure, uh, I guess. One condition?”

Oh thank God. “Name it.”

Ollie glanced down and then back up. “Put on some pants?”

Ty’s mouth worked soundlessly without input from his brain, and then he finally looked down. Yep, he sure had answered the door in his boxers. Making a real smooth first impression here. “I think I might still be drunk,” he confessed.

A smile twitched at the corner of Ollie’s mouth. “You think,” he echoed.

A literal, actual sea of coffee. “All right,” Ty said faintly. “Well, uh—I’m just going to… dress. You and Theo, uh, come in and… yeah. Make yourself at home.”

Look on the bright side , Ty told himself as he retreated to his bedroom. This day probably can’t get much worse.

THIS DAY, Ollie thought, standing on the porch as Half-Naked Man disappeared into the house, was already a shitshow.

He and Theo had made the drive up from DC yesterday and checked into a motel. The place was kind of a dump, but it was only for a night. Ollie’s parents had tried to convince him to stay with them, but that would’ve meant Ollie sleeping on the couch and Theo in Ollie’s old bedroom in a house filled with people he didn’t really know. He figured they could handle a motel for one night. And it had a pool; Theo loved the pool. He didn’t care what the room looked like.

But they’d only gotten the room for a night because Ollie was supposed to start work for Mr. Morris this morning—work as a home-care aid, not that Ollie was in any way qualified. When his Aunt Eliza—ex-aunt? She’d been his aunt by marriage, but his uncle had died and she’d remarried; he didn’t know what that made her now—called a couple weeks back, he thought she was nuts. Did Ollie want to come be a “companion” to an older man with dementia? Help him with his groceries, make sure he didn’t hurt himself, blah blah blah? Then she mentioned the pay, and the fact that the job included housing for himself and Theo, and, well, by that time Theo had finished chemo and Ollie thought a change of scenery would do them both good, so why not?

The answer, apparently, was because people with dementia die, you idiot , and now Ollie was in Connecticut with no place to live and no job and a kid to look after.

But he was, apparently, going to get breakfast from a guy who was in even worse shape than Ollie.

He propped the door open with an unnecessarily ornate—and heavy—flower pot and jogged down the steps to the car. Theo opened his door just as Ollie got there. “Hey, buddy,” Ollie said. “Small change of plans.”

Theo hopped out, pushed his glasses up his nose, and shut the door with both hands. He’d gotten steadier on his feet in the past couple weeks, and he was starting to put on some muscle again. This kid filled Ollie with so much relief and pride he didn’t know whether to explode or melt into a puddle.

“Okay,” Theo said. “What’s the new plan?”

“Breakfast.”

Theo squinted up at him. “But we had breakfast at the motel.”

Exactly right, and why Ollie wasn’t too worried about getting food poisoning from a guy who’d forgotten to put pants on this morning. They could just skip the food part. “You’re right, so you don’t have to eat anything if you don’t want to. But the man I’m supposed to take care of isn’t here anymore”—Ollie swerved around the D-word and crossed his fingers Theo didn’t notice—“so we’re going to go inside and talk to my new friend for a little bit and figure out what to do next.”

Like find an apartment and a job. Totally doable with an eight-year-old in tow. Piece of cake.

Ollie made himself walk up the steps behind Theo. The kid was still recovering from chemo, and Ollie didn’t want any broken bones, but he also didn’t want Theo to grow up feeling like he couldn’t do anything without his dad hovering .

For the time being, Ollie was doing his best at hovering unobtrusively when Theo’s back was turned, but sooner or later the kid was going to figure it out, and then…. Ollie didn’t know what then. He’d burn that bridge when he got there.

“Does this mean we’re not going to live here?” Theo asked as they got to the top step. “Because this place is cool , Dad.”

This place is creepy as hell , Ollie thought, and I’ve flown helicopters in active combat. Which was part of why no one could catch him hovering—one helicopter-dad joke and he’d be toast.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said out loud. “I don’t think so. But it sure is… interesting.”

The place— house simply did not apply—was enormous. Cavernous, even. Maybe that was why it felt so cold. The front room had twenty-foot ceilings and an entire wall of windows, but the curtains had been drawn halfway and no one had cleaned the glass at the top in maybe a decade, so it was dark too. The furniture looked like it had come out of a period piece, or an antique catalog, or a horror movie set.

Ollie wasn’t even Catholic, and he was still fighting the urge to cross himself.

An antique globe in an old-fashioned wood stand sat next to an armchair. Theo spun it, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Ollie sneezed.

“Where do you think the kitchen is?” Theo asked.

That was a great question. Obviously this place had been built before open concept was even a twinkle in an architect’s eye. Ollie surveyed the sides of the room, where heavy oak doors were interspersed with equally heavy dark wood paneling—but none of the doors were moving, so there was no way to tell where their host had gone.

Not that he’d gone to the kitchen, probably. Unless he kept his pants there. You never knew with some people.

“I have no idea,” Ollie said after a moment. “Maybe we’ll just wait here for, uh—” The guy with no name.

God, he had to be crazy. Bad enough that he’d gotten himself into this situation, but he’d dragged Theo into it with him. If they got ax murdered this was totally on him.

Ollie was just about to let his common sense override whatever misguided softhearted dumbassery had lured him in here when one of the doors swung open and Boxers Man came back in, this time dressed in fleece pajama pants with smiley-face emojis and a blue T-shirt with PARAMEDIC written on it.

Or, actually, the shirt said CIDEMARAP, because he’d put it on inside-out. Even if this guy intended to brutally ax-murder them, Ollie was pretty sure he wasn’t capable of pulling it off at the moment.

“Oh God, you’re really not a hallucination, are you?” the guy said. Ollie couldn’t tell if he was relieved or mortified.

Ollie looked down at himself. “Not the last time I checked. But it’s pretty early in the morning for philosophical debate.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across Smiley-Pants-Man’s face.

Which reminded Ollie—”Uh, this is my son, Theo.” Who was drawing smiley faces that matched the guy’s pants in the dust on the globe stand. “Theo, this is….”

“Ty,” the guy said, stepping forward. Ollie would’ve debated about shaking hands when he didn’t know where this guy had been, but instinct took over. Fortunately he wasn’t sticky. “Uh, Tyler. Morris. In case you didn’t grasp the subtext, this is—was—my dad’s place.”

Theo shook hands too, because Ollie might be new at full-time parenting but he’d managed to get that far.

But he was still eight years old, so he followed the handshake with, “Do you have a dungeon?”

Theo wasn’t looking, so Ollie let himself facepalm.

Ty-uh-Tyler-Morris took it in stride, grinning delightedly. “You know, that’s a really good question. How about we save it for after breakfast, though, because I made some choices last night that I am going to regret this morning if I don’t get some food in me.”

“We couldn’t figure out which door went to the kitchen,” Theo explained in a stage whisper.

Ty laughed like Ollie’s kid was the best comedian on the planet, not forced at all. For a split second, the stuffy old room felt bright and lived-in. “All the doors in this place do kinda look the same, don’t they? Come on. We’ll push ’em all open until we find it.”

The kitchen, at least, didn’t look like a period piece, even if dishes—clean, from what Ollie could tell—littered half the available counter space. Ollie had done a little research into living with dementia before he told Eliza he’d take this job, so he knew Morris Senior was probably the one who’d taken them all out. He wondered what the rest of the house looked like, if he’d taken everything out of the linen closets and piled his clothes on the floor.

Ollie would’ve dealt with it, even though picking it up likely would’ve been a daily task, not a one-and-done. But maybe it was better that he didn’t have to. Having stuff all over the place like that had to be some kind of health hazard—tripping, fire. Last thing he needed was Theo breaking a bone.

Which, speaking of breaking things, Ollie had the feeling he ought to get some caffeine into their host before he fell over. Ollie located the coffee maker—miraculously free of countertop clutter or suspicious fuzzy growths—and a canister of coffee and got to work.

“Wow, you are really… just going for it, huh?”

“You did tell me to make myself at home.”

“I… did do that, didn’t I. I’m sorry. I’m not usually—okay, I actually am usually this much of a disaster.” Ty ran a hand through his hair as he dropped into a chair at the breakfast bar and finished in a mutter at the countertop, “At least whenever I’m in this house.”

Ollie started to suspect that he’d have to do the cooking if any breakfast was to be consumed. He opened a few cupboards in search of mugs. “What’s that they say? ‘You can go back home again, but we’d advise against it’?”

Ty snorted and raised his head. “Oh, so the kid gets his sense of humor from you?”

“Yeah, no one’s more surprised than me. I definitely thought it skipped a generation.”

Theo climbed up onto the stool next to Ty. “What’s that mean?”

“That means that your daddy needs to start watching his mouth when his kid is around.” Ollie ruffled Theo’s hair. He might not have the best relationship with his parents, but he didn’t want Theo to hate them before they even met. “Your grandma tells bad jokes is all. But don’t tell her I said that. You just pretend to laugh, okay?”

Theo nodded gamely. “Okay.”

Over his head, Ty met Ollie’s eyes and grinned crookedly. Yeah, Ollie’s kid was the best. “Knew I could count on you, bud.”

Mugs, check. Coffee, check. Ollie poured two and slid one in front of Ty. Ty looked like he might cry.

“Can I have coffee too, Dad? ”

“Not unless your aunt Cassie is babysitting.” She had it coming after what she’d put Ollie through as a kid. He poked his head into the fridge. Eggs, check. Milk, check. Both passed the sniff test. The deli drawer looked beyond questionable; Ollie wasn’t going in there. “Hey, you got flour or bread?”

“Uh, in the little—food garage thing, except…”

Food garage? Oh, in the corner of the counter, a little sliding door lifted to reveal a toaster and a stash of bread and English muffins. Because sure. Plates on the counter, simple carbs hidden away. Dementia logic.

“… I don’t actually know how old anything in there is, so….”

Ollie inspected the bread tag. It was within the best-before date, so he shrugged. “No mold. French toast it is.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, unless you want over-easy on toast or something?”

The color drained out of Ty’s face. “French toast,” he said firmly.

“No runny yolks this morning,” Ollie said. “Got it.” He glanced at Theo. “You want a piece too, bud?”

Theo made a thoughtful face and then said, “I could eat,” which he’d definitely picked up from Ollie.

Ty looked like he knew it too, because the crooked grin returned.

“Okay. Coming right up.”

For the next twenty minutes, Ollie focused on cooking while Theo played Twenty Questions with their host. Considering how hungover the guy had to be, he had a remarkable amount of patience. Finally Ollie plated up and sat down on the opposite side of the breakfast bar.

“Do you live here by yourself?” Theo asked around half a slice of bread.

Ollie was still working on table manners, which had taken a hit recently. He was pretty sure Theo was getting a growth spurt.

“Uh, not exactly.” Ty poked at his breakfast. “I mean. I used to live here when I was a kid, but I don’t anymore.”

“Cool. Do you have a pool? Do you have a library?”

“Bud,” Ollie interjected. “Let Ty eat his breakfast, okay? And you eat yours too, since you asked for seconds.”

“Oh, uh, you guys already ate?”

Shit. Ollie looked at his plate. “Kinda thought I’d be starting work first thing this morning, so….”

“Right, yeah,” Ty said. “We should probably talk about that? But maybe not with, uh….” He gestured to Theo, who fortunately was focused on following Ollie’s instructions to eat his breakfast.

“Yeah,” Ollie agreed. On top of losing his mom, moving, and starting a new school, Theo didn’t need to worry about Ollie having a job. “Thanks. I’m… sorry about your dad.” Even if it kind of seemed like Ty wasn’t. Then again, you didn’t end up with this kind of hangover because you had simple feelings about something.

“Thanks,” Ty echoed, a little hollow. He stuffed a bite of french toast into his mouth, and his eyebrows went up. “This is pretty good, man.”

“Yeah, I found real vanilla in the cupboard. Makes a difference. My mom always had the good stuff.”

“I guess what she lacks in humor she makes up in taste.”

Ollie raised his coffee mug in acknowledgment. Ty had hit the nail on the head with that one.

He tuned out conversation after that. Ty had Theo well in hand, and it had been a minute since Ollie had someone else to occupy his kid. God knew he loved Theo, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to turn over the controls to someone else for a bit. Ollie was still there. Theo couldn’t get into any trouble.

And he really had outdone himself with the french toast.

He left Theo and Ty to do their thing while he cleared plates. He’d just turned on the tap to start washing dishes when the timbre of the conversation behind him changed. “Ollie, you don’t—jeez, I’ve taken up enough of your time—oh shit .”

“Swear jar,” Theo singsonged.

Ty apologized profusely, which Ollie ignored. His kid had been raised by a woman who used to be in the Army Corps of Engineers.

“Oh shit what?” Ollie asked, letting Theo’s delighted squawk wash over him.

“I am supposed to be at the funeral home in an hour.” Ty groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “And I definitely can’t drive.”

Jesus. This guy needed a keeper worse than his dad had. “You better get in the shower, then,” Ollie told him. “It’s a twenty-minute drive.”