Jordan
FEbrUARY
“Theo!” I call out from the bottom of the stairs while I glance at my watch. I don’t want to sound impatient, but I’ve been standing here for a good fifteen minutes by now, and I’m eager to get going. Every minute I stand here waiting for my son means more minutes till I get to see Milán again.
It’s been three months since we started… whatever it is we’re doing. It’s not a relationship in the usual sense. We talk a lot about everything and anything, like we usually do, just not about us in any way where we’d have to define what we’re doing.
It’s not even because we’re tiptoeing around it, too scared to say anything. It’s more of a mutual reluctance to rock the boat because things are really fucking good. Really. Fucking. Good.
It’s the easiest whatever-the-fuck-kind-of-ship-this-is I’ve ever been in.
We’re in the exact same space. Same latitude. Same longitude. I’ve barely felt like I’m from the same planet as most of the people in my life for a long, long time. I would’ve been happy with the same continent. Same city seemed like a stretch. Same street even more so.
But now here he is. Same space. Where he fits with no effort.
It feels too good to be true.
The sound of running footsteps jolts me out of my thoughts, and Theo appears at the top of the stairs. He’s tugging a sweatshirt over his head, face red, hair a mess.
“I can’t find my cleats.”
I do my best not to sigh.
“You have five pairs. Just pick another pair.”
“I need my lucky cleats, Dad!” He disappears back into his room.
Yup. I shouldn’t have wasted my breath on a stupid suggestion like that.
I press my lips together and lecture myself not to lecture him while I wait.
“Where did you put them after the last game?” I call after another few minutes have ticked by.
Silence.
I sigh, and I’m starting to make my way upstairs when Theo barrels out of his room.
“Found them.” He waves the cleats at me when he sees me.
I raise a brow. “Where were they?”
“Where they were supposed to be. In their proper place,” he says. “Where I put them.”
Dog barks, tongue lolling, tail wagging.
I scratch him behind the ear. “Aww. You smell lies, too. That’ll be useful in the long run. Who’s a good boy?”
Theo rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“Come on. We have to go,” he throws over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “We promised to pick Rory up, too, remember?” he yells from what sounds like the street already.
“Yeah, sure. I’m the reason we haven’t left yet.”
“Dad!” he shouts, to let the whole neighborhood know we’re leaving. I’m sure they appreciate it.
I give Dog one more quick scratch before I jog out the door.
I’m distracted the whole way to Milán’s place. It’s my new state. Me, distracted to the point where I barely get anything done. I try to pay attention, but my resolve to be productive disappears the moment I picture Milán smiling at me.
It’s ridiculous how one person can take over all the usable space in my brain. I’m gonna be fired from my job if I continue like this, and I’ll have to become a street musician to make ends meet, even though I don’t have a decent enough voice to pull it off, but I’m not even worried about it.
I haven’t seen him in two days. Two long days of spacing out, smiling like a lunatic, grinning like a fool every time my phone chimes, replaying moments with him in my head. It’s my new favorite movie.
I almost miss our stop because in my mind, I’m somewhere else entirely.
“Dad.” Theo pokes my cheek.
We get off the train and make our way to the street, and I try to look normal and not like I’m in over my head and so into him.
The fact that even the sight of his building makes me grin does not bode well for my act-normal plan.
I look around when we reach the front door, but there’s no sign of Rory anywhere.
“He remembers we’re coming, right?” I ask Theo.
“Remembered twenty minutes ago,” he says. “I texted him. He said he’d be outside.”
“Try him again?” I suggest.
Theo fishes his phone out of his backpack. His fingers fly over the screen as he types. We wait for a bit, but there’s no reply.
I go and press my thumb on the buzzer, but nobody answers.
I pull out my own phone and call Milán, not really expecting him to pick up. He’s meeting his lawyer to finish some paperwork. It’s the whole reason we’re picking Rory up in the first place.
I’m frowning so hard that when Milán’s warm voice says “Hey” on the other end of the line, I jerk and almost drop the phone.
Another involuntary smile stretches on my lips. I waste time stupidly smiling at nothing in particular until Theo waves his hand in front of my face.
“Earth to Dad.”
I blink and clear my throat.
“Yeah. Sorry. Hi,” I say in quick succession. “Sorry.”
“For… saying hi?” Milán’s laughing voice asks.
I roll my eyes at myself.
“We can’t find Rory?” I wince. “That makes it sound worse than it is.” I take a calming breath. “We’re in front of your building, and he’s not here. Any chance he got tired of waiting and headed straight to the stadium? We’re a bit late, and he’s not answering his phone.”
“He should be there. I specifically told him to wait. Hold on. I’ll check his location.”
“There, Dad,” Theo says, pointing.
“You can call off the search party. We found him,” I tell Milán.
“Okay. We’re almost finished here, so I’ll leave as soon as I can. I have to go now though. Aiden’s giving me the stink eye.”
I laugh. “See you.”
“Not soon enough,” he replies, and I spend a few moments replaying those words in my head just because.
I hang up and look over at where Theo is pointing. Rory is on the other side of the street, in front of a crowded bakery that has a line snaking out the door, so it takes me a second to locate him.
I start to wave, but something stops me. He’s talking to some man. A dude dressed in sweats and a hoodie with the bill of a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
Rory shakes his head while he says something, and the guy takes a step toward him. Rory backs away, and it’s really starting to look like the guy is about to make a grab for him.
I’m already on the move.
“Wait here,” I throw over my shoulder at Theo.
I start to weave through the cars just as Rory turns to walk away. The guy grabs his forearm and yanks him back toward him.
“Hey!” I shout, and sprint across the street. Car signals blare, but it barely registers.
I reach Rory just as the guy gives his arm a sharp tug.
“…you little shit,” the guy snaps and shakes Rory.
It takes Rory approximately a second to kick the guy in the shin and free himself. The dude charges, but I push myself between him and Rory.
“Hey!” I yell.
He throws me a startled look from underneath the bill of his cap. He leans to the side and points at Rory before he turns on his heel and storms away.
I whirl around. “Are you okay?” I ask Rory.
“Fine,” he says.
I turn around again and scan the street while I wrestle my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?” Rory asks.
“Calling the cops,” I say.
He slams his hand over the screen. “Why?”
“To report that man.”
“There’s no point,” he says. “He’s gone.”
My thumb hovers over the screen while I try to figure out what to do.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Rory says.
“What?” I stare at him. “Rory, that was not okay what just happened.”
“It was just some guy!” he says, and there’s a strange urgency in his voice.
I narrow my eyes, feeling a nagging hunch I can’t really explain. “Did you know him?”
“What? No. He was just some weird guy.”
“Okay, but what happened, then? Because that looked like an altercation.”
“I bumped into him.” Rory scowls. “By accident,” he adds with an immediate air of defensiveness in his tone. “Dude lost his shit. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like I mowed him down or anything.”
“Don’t say shit,” I say automatically.
He rolls his eyes. “Please. I just want to go to the game. I don’t want to sit here and let everybody down.”
I blow out a breath and try to take stock of the situation. By now, the guy’s long gone. The moment to report anything? Also gone.
“Yeah, okay.” I groan while I tap my fist against my forehead. “Your brother isn’t going to be happy with me.”
“You’re not gonna tell him about this, are you?” Rory says, again with that alarmed look.
“I kind of have to. It’s the sort of thing the adults in your life will want to know about.”
“He’ll just get, like, pointlessly worried and sh—crap.”
“Definitely not pointlessly,” I say dryly.
He scowls at me. “Just…” He sighs. “I’ll tell him myself.” His shoulders slump, and he makes a face. “If I have to.” He sends a hopeful look my way.
“Either me or you,” I say.
“Yeah, fine. I’ll tell him.”
“Okay.” I nod, and we eye each other for another second before I gesture to where Theo is still standing. “Come on. You two have a game to win.”