Homecoming for Beginners

Chapter 11

OLLIE ENDED his shift on edge after Ty’s message about Mrs. Sanford, so he was primed for panic when he closed his locker and saw a new notification on his phone.

But this time Ty hadn’t just sent a text, he’d sent a picture: Theo passed out on the couch, head pillowed awkwardly on Ty’s knee. In the background, the TV showed a still from Moneyball .

So just a heads-up but I don’t think we’re getting our homework done tonight.

Without thinking, Ollie touched the phone screen, as if he could move through it into Ty’s weird old-man living room and squeeze in at the other end of the couch with Theo’s feet in his lap.

God. He should be there. Someone had died, and his kid had almost seen it because Ollie had to work. And now it was—fuck, it was almost six. So much for a family-friendly company. Ollie’s ass, legs, and shoulders ached from too many hours in the driver’s seat of an armored truck. His heart ached for his kid. Obviously something had hit home for him today.

And that didn’t even touch the complicated tangle of things he felt that someone else was there making sure Theo got what he needed. Gratitude, yes. Envy, certainly. Guilt. Pride, a little, because Ollie had navigated that all by himself, making friends with someone with such a generous heart, someone Theo obviously loved and trusted already.

None of those explained the peculiar tug in his chest, the sensation almost like barbed wire wrapped around his heart. Ollie rubbed his sternum distractedly and put his phone away. He wasn’t going to ask Ty to explain whatever happened by text, and a phone call might wake Theo. They could figure things out in person.

When he got home, the television volume was on low and the smell of baked-from-frozen pizza filled the front room. Ollie left his boots by the door and his keys and wallet in the second bowl on the console table. Then he poked his head around the side of the couch. Theo was stretched out fully now, covered by the throw blanket from the games room. Moneyball was still playing on low volume; Ty must’ve set it to play on repeat or something.

Ollie wandered into the kitchen, where Ty sat at the island, half hidden behind an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. A mug of hot chocolate steamed in front of him.

Ollie cleared his throat as he sat across from Ty. “So the pizza I smell, that’s dessert?”

Ty gave him an anemic smile and nudged the plate over a few inches. “Been that kinda day, I guess.”

Off a long exhale, Ollie said, “Yeah.” He paused. Picked up a cookie. Then, “I really hate my job.”

He punctuated the statement by biting down. The chocolate chips were still molten, and the chewy, buttery crumb soothed something deep inside him.

“Honestly?” Ty sipped his hot chocolate. “Same.”

Frowning, Ollie shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “I thought you liked the kids.”

“I love the kids,” Ty clarified. “I’m just not built for sitting still, or grading things, or wrangling twenty-five eight-year-olds at a time. And I don’t want to be out of my real job for so long that I get rusty.”

Ollie glanced at the timer on the stove—still another three minutes on the pizza—and took another cookie. “Is that what happened today?”

Ty huffed and spun his now empty mug on the counter. “No. I think—there wasn’t anything anyone could’ve done for her, short of installing a pacemaker or putting her on blood thinners long before this. But I….”

Ollie waited him out.

A gusty exhale. “I caught myself wondering after if I’d done everything I could. I know—I know I did. I only really wondered because Mrs. Sanford was such a…. She was not nice to me. And I resented that. But I still tried my best to save her.” He lifted one large shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “It’s easier to deal with when you’re wearing a uniform.”

“I know something about that.”

They exchanged meaningful glances and then, by unspoken agreement, dropped the subject when the timer dinged. Ty pulled out the pizzas and set them on the stovetop to cool.

“You never get deep dish,” Ollie commented. “I would’ve thought living in Chicago….”

Ty tossed an oven mitt at his head. “If you need a spoon to eat it, it’s not pizza.”

“True.” Ollie glanced at the kitchen door, which he’d propped open with the heavy pink rock salt slab Ty said was for cooking meat on. No movement from the living room. He sighed and opened the drawer for the pizza cutter. “So, not to jump from one difficult subject to another, but uh….”

“What happened with Theo this afternoon?” Ty finished as Ollie sliced the pizza.

“Kinda killing me, I won’t lie.” He winced. “Poor choice of words.”

Ty handed Ollie a plate. “You’d think it would’ve been the medical drama, but actually it was Eliza. Well, talking to Eliza. I asked her to look after Theo while I—anyway. I guess she told him about being married to your uncle, and how she still talks to your family because they remember him, and he got jealous because no one here knew his mom to talk about except you, but then he felt bad about being jealous, and he didn’t want you to think you weren’t doing a good job.”

That little monologue just about took Ollie out at the knees. His fingers felt suddenly nerveless. He was glad he hadn’t put anything on his plate yet, because it clattered loudly to the counter as his hand spasmed.

“Ollie—Jesus, Ollie, are you okay?”

The barbed wire around Ollie’s heart constricted until it felt like something had to break. Then Ty put a hand between his shoulder blades and the tension snapped. Ollie let out a shaky breath. “I’m okay,” he said, faintly, and then again, surprised that he meant it: “I’m okay. Just, you weren’t kidding when you said it was a rough afternoon.” He turned to meet Ty’s gaze.

Ty’s shoulders were up around his ears, and his cheeks were red—shame, not embarrassment. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to the homework. I know it’s not my place to say what’s important—”

“Wait. Are you seriously apologizing right now?” Ollie said disbelievingly. “For taking such good care of my kid that he could open up to you like that? ”

Ty’s flush deepened. He flicked his gaze up to meet Ollie’s eyes. “Um.”

“Come here,” Ollie demanded, and opened his arms.

It shocked him how easily Ty went into them.

More shocking was how good he felt there.

Ty melted against him like he didn’t have a spine. He snaked his arms around Ollie’s waist and sagged into him like no one had hugged him in years. Maybe no one had.

Come to think of it, Ollie couldn’t recall the last time he’d hugged anyone other than Theo. But his body remembered what to do—arms wrapped around Ty’s broad shoulders, head leaned against the side of Ty’s, breathe deeply. Ty smelled like he did in the mornings, of vanilla lavender bodywash and coconut shampoo; he must’ve showered after the grocery store. Ollie took a deep breath and then another before he realized that at some point he was supposed to let go.

But Ty didn’t seem like he was in a big hurry for that, so he didn’t.

Ollie had hugged people who were taller and broader than him before, of course. Not as many since he became an adult, but he’d served with guys who were taller than his six feet and broader too. But he’d never hugged any of them like this.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever hugged anyone like this.

Finally Ty took a shaky breath and raised his head, and Ollie forced his arms to soften and let go. “Um.” He was bright red now, and blotchy, his eyes a little too bright, but he smiled crookedly. “I guess you’re not mad about the homework.”

“Good guess,” Ollie said dryly. He helped himself to a few slices of pizza and sat back down at the island, trying not to shiver and wondering if they’d left a window open somewhere. It was warm in the kitchen. He had no reason to feel cold.

Ty served himself some pizza, poked his own head out into the living room, and must’ve decided the same as Ollie had—that Theo could sleep for another half hour or so before they fed him—because he slouched back to the island. This time he sat at the corner next to Ollie, so their knees almost touched. “Your kid is pretty great, you know.”

The chill disappeared. “Yeah.” Allison did most of the work, but Ollie had contributed too. “I got lucky.”

“ Lucky ?” Ty snorted. “Ollie. One minute your kid was crying about having no one to talk to about his mom and the next he was worried it made me feel bad to see you doing your World’s Best Dad routine. ”

Ollie ignored the heat rising in his face and somehow managed to swallow the bite of pizza he had in his mouth. He thought he’d done a good job making sure Theo knew he could talk to Ollie about Allison if he wanted, but obviously he needed to be firmer about it. Or gentler. Gentler? “Does it?”

Ty made an indecipherable noise. “ See ?!”

Ollie didn’t.

Apparently Ty didn’t actually expect him to; he shook his head fondly. “Never mind.” He shoveled in another bite of pizza.

But maybe the sound had woken Theo, because a moment later he appeared in the doorway. “Dad.”

Ollie scooped him into his arms before he could think about it. “Hey, buddy.”

And then he couldn’t make himself put him back down again. He sat with Theo in his lap instead.

“Did I miss dinner?”

“Uh, nope.” Ty stood and loaded another plate, which he set down next to Ollie’s. “Plenty to go around.”

TUESDAY THE team had an away game. Ty couldn’t decide what was worse, the 13–2 loss, or the fact that he had to get on the bus with the kids afterward and go all the way back to the school instead of just getting in his truck to go home.

To make matters worse, there was nothing else to do in a small town on a Tuesday night, so the visitors’ section was decently full anyway. Ty couldn’t tell if he felt persecuted because he couldn’t save the team from themselves or because he couldn’t save Mrs. Sanford. Either way, his skin itched throughout the game. He couldn’t help but feel like everyone was looking at him.

On top of that, there was some kind of teenage soap opera happening in the infield. Pete and Paolo, the catcher, were okay; Paolo and Danny, the first baseman, were fine. Pete and Danny seemed to be giving each other the cold shoulder.

As the team traipsed back into the dugout after a brutal five-run infield, Ty muttered to Henry, “Do we ask them about it?”

Henry’s expression read Cynical Old Man. “Absolutely not. If we ask and they tell us, we might be obligated to mediate. ”

Okay, well, Henry probably needed his pension, so he’d have to mediate, but Ty? “ I could ask,” he pointed out. “What’re they gonna do, fire me? This job doesn’t even pay for groceries.”

“But then you’ll know and have to keep it to yourself,” Henry pointed out, and that sounded awful, so Ty didn’t ask.

In the bus on the way home, he had Theo next to him, trying to do his math homework while half falling asleep against Ty’s shoulder. Ty was glad he was doing it now, because his nose told him Theo needed a bath tonight.

He shot Ollie a quick text when they got back to the school. On our way. Did you get dinner by any chance?

He got back a picture of an enormous pot of spaghetti. It’s not fancy but you won’t starve.

You’re my favorite , Ty sent back, and his stomach growled all the way home.

Ollie sent Theo off to shower as soon as he cleaned his plate. Then he puttered around the kitchen with Ty doing dishes, even though he’d cooked so it was definitely Ty’s turn.

“I can handle this,” Ty promised through a yawn.

“Uh-huh,” Ollie said good-naturedly. He elbowed Ty in the ribs. The hug on Monday must have broken the physical-touch dam, because the boundaries of personal space had been redrawn in the past few days. Ty wasn’t complaining. Human contact was important for mental and emotional health, and God knew he and Ollie could use all the serotonin supplements they could get. “Go sit down on the couch. You’re missing the Cubs game.”

OLLIE HAD thought his parents would cave in a day or two. He knew how much they wanted to build a relationship with Theo, and he wanted that for them too, but not at the expense of Ollie being second-guessed over every decision he made about Theo’s well-being.

But by Thursday, he still didn’t have an apology, and he was starting to wonder if he’d lost objectivity.

Am I making too big a deal of this? he texted Cass on his lunch break. Be honest .

He didn’t get a reply until two hours later. Hell no. Stick to your guns. Do you know how many arguments we had about Mel being baptized?

Cass’s husband was Jewish. They’d agreed Mel could make her own decisions about religion when she was old enough. Ollie could imagine how that had gone over with their parents. And you still speak to them?

They get three strikes a year and if they use them all we don’t come for Christmas.

He whistled under his breath. I might have to try that one.

Good luck!

Ollie was going to need it—both with his parents and with the commute home, because construction season was upon them. At the rate they were going today, he’d barely make it home in time for Theo’s bedtime. To make matters worse, their usual truck was being serviced, and the seat in this one had spent its previous life as a medieval torture device. He already knew he’d have to take muscle relaxants to sleep tonight, which meant he could expect the nightmares to make an appearance. One day he hoped to be able to once again rest his mind and his body simultaneously.

But when he eventually did make it home, the scent in the kitchen almost made him forget how cranky he was.

He stopped in the living room, where Theo was curled up on the couch with his nose three inches from his book. Ollie kissed the top of his head and accepted a distracted reverse half hug in return, then carefully pulled the book farther away from Theo’s face so he didn’t end up with a headache.

Urged on by his stomach, he continued to the kitchen. “Okay, two questions: What are you making and when can I eat it?”

Ty scraped something warm and garlicky from the wok onto a serving dish. “Bulgogi beef, and it’s ready now.”

Ollie might cry. “Seriously?”

He smiled. “A little bird told me it was your favorite. Well, he actually said ‘buggy beef,’ but we got some context and sorted it out. I was going to make it Monday, only Monday ended up being a word I can’t say unless I want to contribute to Theo’s college fund.”

Ollie got down a trio of pasta bowls and opened the rice cooker. “At least cursing is more fun than selling a kidney. ”

By now they moved around the kitchen, in and out of each other’s space, in a kind of dance. Ollie knew what Ty would do next—remove the hot pan from the burner, wipe up any splatters around the stove, get the pitcher of water and carton of milk from the fridge. Ollie weaved in and out, grabbing napkins and cutlery and the bottle of gochujang Ty would forget about until he was three bites in and then return to the fridge for.

“Theo! Dinner’s ready!”

He came into the kitchen with the book still in front of his face and would’ve tripped over his stool if Ollie hadn’t plucked the book away.

“Dad!” he protested. “I just got to the good part.”

“You can talk to us for five minutes so you don’t get soy sauce all over your library book.” Ollie slid his bowl in front of him. “Besides, Ty obviously worked hard on dinner. Doesn’t it smell great?”

Heaving the kind of sigh eighteenth-century poets could only dream about, Theo dragged himself onto his barstool. “Yeah, I guess.”

Ollie winced—Ty had obviously gone to a lot of trouble—but when he looked over to see Ty’s reaction, he was hiding a smile.

Theo proceeded to eat his dinner so fast that Ollie didn’t think he could even taste it. So much for talking to Ollie and Ty. He barely had time to breathe. “Thanks, Ty.” He stood up and put his plate and fork in the dishwasher. “Can I be excused to go read now?”

Fuck it. How mad could Ollie be that his kid liked reading?

“Okay, but try to keep the book more than two inches from your face, all right?”

Ollie could tell Ty was laughing at him, but at least he did it behind his hand, where Theo couldn’t see him.

When Theo had decamped to the living room, the laugh slipped out as the two of them got up to start cleaning. “That kid,” Ty said ruefully. “Barrel of laughs. I needed that.”

“Yeah?” Ollie chucked a detergent pod in the dishwasher. “You have a tough day too? Were the sixth graders mean to you again?”

Ty snapped the dishtowel at him. “They’re always mean. No, this time it was Mr. Chiu. Old friend of my dad’s. He sits on the town council now because I guess venture capitalism doesn’t keep him busy enough or whatever.”

Lots to unpack there , Ollie thought. “Where did you run into him? ”

“Oh, I didn’t.” Ty slammed a cupboard door a little harder than necessary. “But on Sunday I had a conversation with the fire chief at the station in Holton, because I was hoping I could pick up some training while I’m in the neighborhood. Except no such luck, because they’re so overrun with calls because of how much the population has grown, they can barely do that, never mind keep everyone up to date on their skills.”

“Sounds bad.”

“I thought so too. So much so that I wrote an email to the town council even though I knew Mr. Chiu was on it and hates my guts.”

Ollie waited for the other shoe to drop.

“And then Mrs. Sanford had a heart attack in the grocery store on Monday.”

The dots were there, but Ollie didn’t connect them until Ty added bitterly, “Which Mr. Chiu pointed out was ‘convenient timing’ in his email reply to me this morning.”

Holy shit. “He really implied—”

Ty gave him a tight, mirthless smile and raised his eyebrows.

“What the hell is wrong with this town?” Ollie wondered. “Genuinely. Should I take my kid somewhere else? Is there something in the water?”

“Metaphorically speaking,” Ty offered, “I think my dad poisoned the well.”

“Did you tell Mr. Chiu to go to hell?”

This time Ty’s quirked lips held a trace of real amusement. “I told him any further communication should go through my lawyer.”

“Ha.” Ollie smirked. “Taste of his own medicine.” Then he turned to put the wok away and froze as his whole back seized. “Ow. Fuck.”

Ty took the pan before he could drop it and gently slid it into the cupboard. Then he turned around. “Whoa, hey, are you all right?”

Wincing, Ollie rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen whatever demonic muscle spasm had its claws in his trapezius. “Fine, kind of.” His body had never betrayed him like this when he was in the Army. Maybe he needed to find a regular gym to go to just to make sure his joints stayed lubricated. “It’s bullshit that the warranty on your body expires the minute you turn thirty and then everything immediately falls apart. ”

Ty laughed. “Wow, and people call me dramatic.”

Ollie stuck his tongue out, but he could only hold the face for so long before he had to go back to working out the stiffness in his back. “God. Might have to be an early night.”

“Actually… if you’re okay leaving Theo with the baby monitor, I have an idea. We’ll just be right outside.” He paused. “On the deck.”

A second later the pieces fell into place. “The hot tub?”

“Apparently my dad had a standing service call. Guy was here yesterday. Everything good. Water’s at 102.”

“Wow. I am not used to thinking nice things about your dad.”

Ty grinned crookedly. “Guess there really is a first time for everything. Meet you out there in five?”

“Yup.”

Ollie double-checked Theo didn’t want to join them, but as he’d expected, he was too busy plowing through the last three chapters of his book to be bothered with something so trivial as a hot tub. He brought out the baby monitor—he should rename that if he was going to talk about it out loud—his phone, a towel, and a beer from the fridge, right in time for Ty to open the cover.

The sun had gone down, and the tub lights illuminated the steam escaping into the cool night air. The tension in Ollie’s shoulders eased just looking at it.

“The beer’s not gonna help your shoulder,” Ty chided, but he said it wryly, because he had one of his own.

“Yes, Doc,” Ollie agreed. “I promise to drink three glasses of water before bedtime.”

“Well in that case, Dr. Morris prescribes sitting in the hot tub with the jets on for half an hour.” Grinning, he pulled his shirt off and climbed into the hot tub.

Ollie couldn’t follow fast enough.

The hot water stung skin that had pebbled to goose bumps in the chill. The scent of bromine prickled his nose. Ollie took a moment to close his eyes and tilt his head back against the padded side of the tub and let the simple pleasure of it wash through him.

Then Ty turned the jets on, and Ollie about flew across the tub into his lap. He braced his feet on the floor and pushed back into the massage and only barely held back a sound that was not appropriate for the occasion. “Okay,” he said after a second, when he had better control of his vocal cords, “I have got to get me one of these.”

The soft hiss of escaping carbon dioxide as Ty pried the top off his beer. “Why would you need your own?”

Ollie opened his eyes to find Ty staring at him with furrowed brow, like it didn’t occur to him that Ollie would ever move out.

Which Ollie didn’t know what to do with. Sure, Ty had asked him to move in, but Ollie had figured it was temporary. Ty made no secret of the fact that he needed to go back to Chicago, to his real job and his real life. He was only here out of necessity—and he had the house for the same reason. He was great with kids, but it wasn’t his purpose , and he knew it.

Something deep inside Ollie sparked with jealousy at that, but he pushed it down.

“Uh.” Ollie pried the cap off his own beer to give himself a few seconds to scramble for an answer. “I kind of thought… I mean, you’re going to sell the house eventually, right?”

Ty’s expression cleared. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. It’s probably going to be a while. You’re good housesitting for me for a couple years, right?”

Ollie tried to imagine the place without Ty in it—just him and Theo rattling around in this unnecessarily huge house, waging an eternal war against the dust bunnies. His entire extended family attempting to move in because he “had the space.” No one to make homemade bulgogi and suggest they watch movies on the floor.

Thinking about it made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat and tried to play it off. “I’ll think about it.”

That wide, uncomplicated smile. “That’s all I ask.” Like Ollie was considering doing him a huge favor, living here for free.

This stupid town didn’t deserve Tyler Morris.

Ollie was trying to think of a safer topic of conversation when Ty started rolling his shoulder. “Hey, where’s your back tightest? If it’s lower than your shoulders, you mind trading? Mine’s acting up.”

Ollie ached pretty much everywhere, so he stood up. “Sure.”

As Ty turned around, Ollie’s gaze caught on a slash of smooth pale skin beneath his shoulder blade. A smudge of black ink above his left pec. Another in red on the inside of his right elbow .

Ollie didn’t realize he was staring until Ty said, “I swear none of the scars are from my parents.” He paused and then added, “The tattoos either.”

Ollie settled as deeply into his seat as he could and told himself it was the water making his cheeks feel warm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” Then he shook himself out of it, reached for the beer near him, and stopped. “Actually I think we have to trade these too.”

Laughing, Ty handed over Ollie’s bottle. “You’re probably confused, right? Didn’t know being a paramedic was so dangerous?”

“Kinda wondering if you got into it because you had a lot of personal experience sewing yourself up,” Ollie admitted before raising his beer to his lips.

“Well, only a handful are from the job. The shoulder thing—got stabbed in a bar fight.”

Somehow Ollie managed to swallow without spraying beer into the hot tub. “Seriously? What was it about?”

“No fucking clue, man. I was a bouncer at the time.” He shook his head. “Only a couple of my tokens are from the job I have now. This one”—he pointed at the slight puckering around his jawline—“was the first and almost last injury I ever got as a paramedic.”

Ollie shivered involuntarily and pressed back deeper into the power of the jets. Ty was right, this side was better for his back. “What happened?”

“OD, first week on the job. Should’ve known better, but I panicked.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow.

“Before administering Narcan, always check to make sure the patient doesn’t have a weapon.” He winced. “Or in this case, a broken bottle. They can wake up disoriented, still high, angry that they’re not still high….”

“You saved somebody’s life and they stabbed you in the face ?”

“I mean, I don’t think it was personal. Kind of a gut reaction.”

“Still.” Ollie tried to imagine that happening to him and still wanting to help people afterward. Nope. He was too cynical. “What else have you got?”

The tattoo on his chest was a compass rose, not perfectly vertical but with the axis tilted so it pointed over his shoulder. The right forearm smudge was a Maltese cross for the Chicago Fire Department, with a smaller six-pointed star of life inside. There was a scar half hidden by the hair of his eyebrow—“Hit my head on a glass table as a kid,” Ty said with a crooked smile, like What can you do? —and a burn mark on the inside of his left ankle from “sitting on a motorcycle wrong.”

Ollie could only blink at that explanation.

“That was my preparamedic days,” Ty assured him. “Believe me, you see one motorcycle accident from my end of things, you never want to be on the other. Actually I don’t even want it from my end.”

Without thinking, Ollie brushed his thumb over the smooth skin of the burn. When Ty did show-and-tell, he got up close and personal with it.

Ty shivered, and Ollie let his foot go.

“All right, I showed you mine.” He leaned forward and then paused. “Uh, unless you have, like, PTSD or military-related trauma about them, I guess.”

“About what? Scars? I don’t have any tattoos.”

Ty blinked, suddenly ramrod straight again. “Wait, seriously? I didn’t think they let you out of the military before you had some ink on you.”

True, most of the people Ollie had served with had something somewhere. But Ollie had never felt like he fit well enough to want a reminder on his skin forever. “Guess I’m lucky they didn’t look that close when they discharged me, then.”

Ty laughed. “Guess so. Okay, no ink, then, but….”

Only now Ollie was thinking about it, and—“No scars either.”

Ty’s jaw dropped. “What?! You were on active deployment.”

“I got shot at ,” Ollie said. “Nobody hit me. Got a couple nasty bruises from bumpy landings. Nothing that left a mark.” Other than on his nightmares.

He should’ve expected Ty would lean into the bit. “No way. I don’t believe it.” He gestured as he rose from the water. “Come on, stand up. I want to see. The Army might not’ve looked too close, but I am determined.”

Something about it felt ridiculous, but it had been so long since Ollie felt like he could be silly. First sitting on the floor to watch a movie, and now this. He didn’t have to be serious with Theo all the time—kids needed someone to joke with—but it was different to play along with his kid. He stood up and spread his arms at his sides, raising an eyebrow as he did .

The night air was cold after the heat of the tub. The wet hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, and his nipples pebbled, which made him feel… strange.

Only for a second, though—the next he was back to mild amusement as Ty lifted his arm farther to peer under it.

“There’s gotta be something.” Left arm back down, right arm up. Ollie hoped his armpit didn’t stink. Ty basically had his nose in it. “Childhood chicken pox?”

“Never got it.”

Ty spun him around to examine his back. “Acne scars?”

“My mom does not fuck around with skin care.”

“You played sports ,” Ty protested. “You never fell down, skinned your knee?”

“Sure, but scabs heal.”

“Crabs?” Ty asked, half humor, half desperation.

The idea made Ollie laugh out loud. “Are you deranged?” What kind of infestation would leave lasting marks?

He barely heard Ty mutter, “It’s starting to feel that way.” Then he opened his mouth and his eyes caught Ollie’s and Ollie could hear him thinking . Ty’s entire being was broadcasting the extremely personal question he was about to ask. It was practically bursting out of him. “Wait, are you—”

“ If I was,” Ollie interrupted, because he wasn’t committing to answering, “would it count as a scar?”

Ty held his gaze for a moment and then broke it, admitting, “I don’t count it as one of mine. Maybe I should, though.”

Zero personal boundaries. Just casually mentioning to your friend that you were circumcised. Ollie shook his head fondly and they both sank back into the water.

“I give up,” Ty said. The long line of his arm stretched out as he reached for his beer. Hell of a wingspan, Ollie thought, absently tracking the flex of muscle under inked skin. “You are flawless.”

“Definitely not.” Ollie glanced over at the hot tub settings and wondered if he should turn the heat down, but no, it was at a normal setting. “All my flaws are on the inside.” He thought Ty knew him better than that by now .

Ty pulled his right arm across his chest with his left, stretching out the muscle. “I’m not sure your inability to cook counts as a flaw,” he teased.

But Ollie resisted the pull back toward silliness. “How about my inability to make a decision for myself?”

“What?” Ty furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? You agreed to be a sperm donor for your friend. You joined the military out of high school. Those are huge decisions.”

Shaking his head, Ollie reached for his beer. He slid his thumbnail under the label and scraped up some of the glue and paper. “Joining the Army was my way out of making a decision. I wasn’t ready to figure out the rest of my life, but I didn’t want my parents to figure it out for me. I was just buying time. I figured I could at least make a difference while I did it, but that didn’t turn out the way I planned.”

“Okay, well, what about Theo, then?”

Another head shake. “That was never really—Allison didn’t ask me to help raise him, you know? I mean sure, she wanted me there as backup in case, but she just wanted the, uh—”

“Baby batter?” Ty supplied, batting his lashes.

Jesus. “I can’t believe they let you around children.” He flicked water across the hot tub. “That’s different from deciding I wanted to be a dad.”

“But you did decide that,” Ty pointed out. “That was part of the original agreement, right? And anyone can see how much you love Theo.”

Reluctantly, Ollie admitted Ty had a point. “Theo was the easiest decision I ever made, I guess. It never felt like I decided. And he’s also the best thing I’ve done, but I’ve only been his dad for a few months. Doesn’t seem like I should get to take credit for him.”

Ty’s empty bottle made a thunk as he set it on the edge of the hot tub. “Not this again. Are you angling for another pep talk?”

He wasn’t—he really did feel like he was doing a good job with Theo, even if the rest of his life was a shambles. He hated his job, he hadn’t exactly found a home of his own, and his parents weren’t talking to him for reasons so stupid Ollie couldn’t even put them into words.

But he wanted something . He just hadn’t put his finger on exactly what.

In reply, Ollie shook his head. “No, sorry, I think I’m just in kind of a weird mood. ”

“Hot-tub drunk?”

“On half a beer?”

Ty’s foot nudged his under the water. “Alcohol hits the bloodstream faster when you’re in the hot tub. Medical fact.”

Ollie could have made a joke about that—Ty had finished his drink; did that mean he was white-girl wasted?—but he was thinking about the press of Ty’s foot against his, both purposeful and casual. Reassuring. I’m here. You’re a weirdo, but I like you. It was so close to what he wanted.

Are you angling for another pep talk? He replayed the words in his mind and let himself feel his own answer. No, but a hug might be nice.

Which was—not new, exactly. They touched each other all the time now. And people needed touch; Ollie knew that. Even in the military, where machismo dominated, people touched: back slaps, high fives, hugs. Friendly touches.

He and Ty were friends. Hell, Ollie didn’t think he’d ever had a closer friend. It didn’t mean anything.

Ty’s foot bumped against his more forcefully. “Earth to Ollie. Come in, Ollie.”

He startled out of his musings to find Ty watching him with that patient, perpetually amused half-smile. “Shut up,” Ollie said automatically.

Ty raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything. Although if you space on me again, I might cut you off. Clearly you can’t handle hot tub beer.”

Ew. “First of all, ‘hot tub beer’ sounds like something frat boys would brew in unsanitary equipment—”

Ty cackled.

“—and second—” Ollie raised his right leg out of the water. “I forgot. Your footsie game reminded me.”

“Footsie—” Ty protested, flushing. But he must’ve understood what Ollie was getting at, because he caught his calf. “What exactly am I looking for, here?”

Ty had big hands, which Ollie had noticed before, but noticing felt different when one of those hands was supporting his leg behind the knee, thumb on the outside, fingers brushing sensitive skin.

Ollie made himself take a steadying breath. “Front of my shinbone.” He reached down and felt for the mark. It was a little too dim outside to go by sight alone, and Ollie had enough hair on his legs to make the task difficult. Finally he felt the slight divot. “Fell out of an inner tube in the Grand River camping with my parents. I would’ve been about eight? Flipped over in the rapids and smashed my leg on a rock.”

His heart stuttered in his chest when Ty leaned down to try to get a better look. His face was so close to Ollie’s skin now his warm breath was tickling the hair on Ollie’s calf. Maybe the beer had gone to Ollie’s head, because for a moment, he could’ve sworn Ty was going to dip his head and kiss it better.

And Ollie? Ollie wanted him to.

Finally the pieces connected. This was not the most intense friendship of Ollie’s life. Or it was , but it didn’t end there, not on Ollie’s part. This was the clicking tracks at the top of a roller coaster. It was the lurch of the helicopter as the landing skids left the ground. It was the exhilaration of staring down a fast-flowing river.

This was the last chance to bail out before the inner tube capsized and sent him tumbling down the rapids—maybe by himself, but maybe, if he was lucky, with the dork holding Ollie’s leg like he was Cinderella’s prince fitting a slipper.

Ollie didn’t bail out.

“Well, look at that,” Ty said after what felt like an eternity. He glanced up at Ollie with that gentle smirk, and he rubbed his thumb over Ollie’s scar just briefly before he let go. “Turns out you’re a real boy after all.”

Ollie clamped down on a sharp breath. He’d never thought twice about it before—Ty had always been affectionate, and he’d always ribbed, and he frequently made Ollie feel like the most important person in the room.

Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him until now that this might be Ty flirting with him.

Ollie allowed himself a smirk of his own as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Did you think I was just Ken?”

Ty’s laughter rang through the night. “You’re a ten anywhere, Ollie Kent.”

Sitting across from him, Ollie felt like one. But as the night settled back into comfortable, companionable quiet, he wondered, What now?

It was the beginning of May. In a couple weeks, school would be done for the year and Ty would return to Chicago to go back to his life. And Ollie would be here with Theo .

He might not be speaking to his parents at the moment, but he didn’t think it would be fair to uproot his kid again so soon. Theo was just starting to make friends. He even liked school. His math teacher had emailed Ollie this week to say how far he’d come in the past two weeks. Ollie had already promised to sign him up for softball camp this summer.

Ollie didn’t know where that left him and Ty, but if he’d learned anything from his mistakes, it was this—he wasn’t going to let life make the decision for him this time.