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Two weeks passed. Two weeks while Garrison and Aiden existed in a sort of crazy stasis. Like they were holding their breaths before a long exhale.
Garrison had called the rehab facility the day after the incident and explained why Aiden would need more time. They'd given away Aiden's bed but had put him on the list for the next one.
Aiden hadn't mentioned rehab, and Garrison hadn't pushed it. Yet.
Samantha insisted they move into another of her cabins on the lake. The problem was, it was rented every weekend. That first Friday, they'd moved back to stay with her, where he and Aiden shared the queen-sized bed so they wouldn't invade her office space.
"Dude," Aiden had said the first night. "Why don't you, like, go be with Sam. I won't care. I get that you two are totally into each other."
Garrison kept his voice low in the darkness. "We're not sleeping together."
"I mean, you love her, right? And she loves you, so like, why not?"
"I do love her. Not to be cliché, but she's not that kind of girl. And do you want that kind of girl, really? The kind who tries out every guy who comes along?"
Aiden chuckled. "Well, maybe not to marry."
Garrison stifled his sigh. "You don't. Not even to mess around with. Sam's a treasure." He tried to figure out how to say what he was trying to say. "She's worth waiting for. She's valuable."
"But, I mean, aren't they all valuable?"
Garrison turned toward Aiden to see his son watching him. Taking this conversation very seriously. "Of course. But they don't all know it. You want to find someone who values herself. And maybe, if you meet someone, and if you value her, she'll learn to value herself better. If that makes sense."
"I guess. But like, if you love each other, and you know you're going to get married eventually, then why wait?"
"I'm not sure that we know anything yet. It's a little soon to be planning a wedding. And anyway, there's a certain order to these things. First you marry. Then you sleep together."
That remark was met with silence. Aiden was quiet so long that Garrison drifted toward sleep.
Aiden's voice jarred him awake. "That's what Nate said about him and Marisa. Is it that big a deal?"
He blinked his eyes open, tried to catch up with his son's thoughts. "Sex, you mean? Yeah, it's that big a deal."
"Oh." Silence. Then, "Did you and Mom wait?"
Crap. Not a conversation he wanted to have with his son right now. Or ever. He could lie. He could tell the boy it was none of his business—which would answer the question for Aiden, anyway. He was left with only one option. "Your mother and I made a lot of mistakes. I loved her. I was head-over-heels for her. If I could go back, do things differently, and save our marriage, I'd do it."
"I know. You tried."
"Maybe not enough."
"Maybe if she'd tried, too."
Garrison sighed. "I wish I could have shielded you from what happened between us."
"I know. We're good."
A moment later, Aiden's breathing evened out as the boy fell asleep.
It wasn't so easy for Garrison after that conversation. Too many regrets when he thought about Charlene. So he turned his thoughts to Sam. Bad idea. As Aiden had very helpfully pointed out, her bedroom was right across the hall. That fact definitely didn't bring thoughts of slumber.
The following weekend, he insisted they rent a hotel room. Sam seemed hurt, but he couldn't stand sleeping under the same roof as she did and not being with her. It was that big a deal, and he wouldn't push it. He wasn't going to torture himself, either.
When he explained that, her cheeks turned a very pretty shade of pink.
Maybe it wasn't too soon to start planning a wedding.
They were back in a cabin. This was the cabin Nate and Marisa had stayed in when Ana had been kidnapped. If not for that terrible situation, Garrison would never have met Sam. Not that Garrison was convinced or anything, but it sure seemed there was some big power whose hand was on all of this. Because somehow he'd met the love of his life during a kidnapping, and he'd grown closer to his son than he'd ever thought possible thanks to a homicidal diamond smuggler.
The world was a crazy place. The idea that there might be something, someone bigger than they were, someone who cared enough to listen when they called out, to intervene when they were helpless—he liked that idea. He could see why Sam was convinced. He thought maybe he'd be convinced one of these days, too.
Garrison had worked from home during the long, lazy days, trying to get caught up on his job. Aiden had been sleeping a lot. Swimming a lot, too. They'd gone boating a few times. Spent a lot of time with Sam.
Samantha... She'd done something amazing a few days before. She'd gone to Manchester, alone. To a fabric store, where she'd picked out material for curtains for one of her cabins. She'd stayed there nearly thirty minutes before she'd headed back. It wasn't everything yet, but it was something.
He couldn't be prouder of her.
The routine they'd settled into was good. If it were up to him, they'd have kept right on with it. All seemed well.
But Luke, the guy from the rehab facility, had called that morning to tell Garrison they had a bed for Aiden, a bed they could only hold for a few days.
Garrison finished making the pancakes and called Aiden to breakfast. The boy sat across from him and scarfed down a stack. Garrison was still eating when Aiden had done the dishes and headed back to his bedroom. He'd been different since that terrible night. He hadn't mentioned drugs, and he hadn't seemed to crave them. But Garrison knew those cravings wouldn't go away that easily.
Which meant he'd have to wreck this comfortable routine and have a conversation about it. Now would be a great time for that big power in the sky to help him out. He looked at the ceiling and thought...prayed, he figured, this is going to be hard. Not as hard as being held prisoner by a sociopath, but hard. If you could help, I'd really appreciate it.
The voice Sam had told him about was silent, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.
After he finished the dishes, he swigged the last of the coffee and headed for Aiden's room.
Before he knocked, he reminded himself of all he needed to say. That he loved him, that he was proud of him, and that he had every confidence in him. That this rehab thing—it was the logical next step, and the sooner Aiden went, the sooner he'd be done. And after rehab maybe sober living, which everyone said was really important to the process. Mostly, he needed to remind Aiden that he would be there through it all.
"Come on in."
Garrison pushed the door open and saw Aiden sprawled on his bed, drawing in a notebook Sam had given him. The colored pencils—also a gift from her—were scattered all over the messy blankets. He sat up and brushed his too-long hair out of his eyes. "What's up?"
"What are you working on?"
He shrugged and turned the notebook so Garrison could see. Garrison lifted it, studied the image there. It was a pencil sketch of their previous cabin, except it was different. The windows were bigger. The floors were tile, not hardwood. The wall between the kitchen and the living room was gone, replaced with a long bar.
"It's a lot like this place. Did you know Sam designed this? She said it was old, like our last cabin, and she fixed it up. I thought it might look nice..."
Garrison couldn't stop staring.
"Forget it. It's stupid." Aiden started to grab the sketchbook, but Garrison pulled it out of his reach.
"You're really talented."
Aiden fought a smile and lost. "Not really, just—"
"Seriously. You should show this to Sam. She's coming over in a few minutes. She'll be impressed."
"You think?"
"Are you kidding? It's great."
He shrugged. "I'm never going to get to see it done, though. She said she's putting that place on the market."
"She'll buy others. And anyway, you can design your own stuff someday."
Aiden's smile held. "That's what I want to do. I want to go to design school, maybe even study architecture."
Garrison couldn't fathom studying something like that. The math aspect of it—sure. Aiden had probably gotten that from him. And Charlene was crafty. Perhaps Aiden had gotten that from her. Together, they'd created this amazing, talented person. "You could do it. Me? No way."
"I know. Mom couldn't either." He shrugged. "I think I can."
"You can. I have no doubt." He took a deep breath. Now was the time to bring up rehab. Never mind that it would ruin their nice conversation. "I wanted to—"
"I have a plan." Aiden stopped. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."
A plan? "You first."
"Uh, okay." He sat on the side of the bed. "Like, I'm glad we had this time to recuperate or whatever since that night. It's been nice hanging out with you and everything, but I think it's time."
The kid was going to ask if they could go home, and Garrison was going to have to break his heart. "Time for what?"
"For rehab. I mean, if you're still willing to pay for it."
Garrison started to speak, but Aiden rushed ahead.
"I figure, I need to go. The cravings were, like, nothing those first few days, even that first week, but now, they're getting bad again."
"They were gone, though? Why do you think that is?"
Aiden looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were filled with tears. "You, like, risked your life to save mine. They were going to kill you. Then, that guy was going to kill Sam, and she put herself in danger to save me."
Aiden had never spoken about those last few moments.
"And you..." Aiden continued, "you just, you managed it. You fixed it. You saved us. And, like, how could I betray you after what you did for me? And..." He sniffed, swiped his eyes real fast. "You said something the other night, about how some girls don't know they're valuable? That night, at the cabin, you and Sam showed me that, like, I'm valuable, too. You guys thought I was worth dying for."
Garrison sat beside him and wrapped his arm around his back. "Of course. Of course you are."
"I don't think I knew that before. I mean, I always knew you loved me. I don't know how to explain it." He shrugged, swiped away a tear. "Anyway, I don't want to hurt you again. And whenever I think about that, I don't want to use drugs. I want to make you proud. The thing is, that's not going to be enough. It's going to fade, and the cravings are going to get bad again. Eventually, I'll give in. I know I will. I think I need to hurry up and go. Because I have to want to quit for me, too. Not just for you. Does that make sense?"
It did, but Garrison wasn't sure he could speak. So he nodded.
"And then, I mean, if it's okay with you, I probably need to go to one of those sober living places the guy was telling us about. And maybe it needs to be here somewhere. Because I can't imagine that I can go back to Hempstead and hang with all my old friends and not get sucked in again. And Mom..."
Aiden had called Charlene the day before, but he hadn't told his dad what they'd talked about.
"Mom was all...irritated that I want to go to rehab. Like, I guess she thought I'd fight it like she did. It was almost like she was disappointed in me. I felt bad about leaving her there by herself. But now...I don't think she's very good for me, either. Which sounds terrible to say. But...it's true. Don't you think?"
"Um..." Garrison was trying to catch up. "Maybe you're right."
"If you go back, that's fine. I get it, because your work is there and everything. Still, though...I'd love it if you stayed close so maybe I can see you on weekends or whatever. I don't know anything about the lease on our house there, but maybe you can get out of it. You could rent something here. Sam's here, and she can't move. I mean, maybe she could eventually. She seems better with the anxiety stuff. But that's between you two."
"Right. Okay."
He heard a knock at the front door. He went to the door of Aiden's room and called, "Come in!"
Sam did. She must've seen something on his face because she waved at him and walked through the house to the back deck, where she slipped outside. Garrison turned back to Aiden. "Sorry. She went outside."
"It's fine. I'm almost done. Anyway, after I get out of rehab, I can get a job, help pay for the rent in sober living. And then I'll finish school. The thing is, I want to go to college, but I'm going to have to be careful, 'cause college campuses have lots of drugs. Maybe I'll do online school for a while, work full-time. Maybe Sam can hook me up with someone who does remodeling. And then, when I have a couple years off the drugs, then I can go to college. But I know you'll be spending my college money on rehab, so I'll earn my own way. You don't have to pay for any of it. I just...I want to know if you think it's a good plan."
It took a minute before Garrison could answer. Because, except for the college thing—of course he'd pay for it—everything he'd been going to tell Aiden, Aiden had just told him. How had that happened?
He nodded, cleared his throat. "I think that's a perfect plan."
"Great. Should I call the rehab place?"
"They have a bed for you now. Luke called this morning."
"Good. Not that I'm in any hurry, but I better go before I change my mind. The sooner, the better."
"Yeah." He pulled Aiden into a hug and held him tight. Then, he backed away, clasped him on the shoulder, and squeezed. "I'm so proud of you."
Aiden shrugged like it was no big deal.
Garrison stepped out, reeling, and closed the door.
It was more than he could have dreamed. Aiden was eager to get clean and restart his life. Garrison should be thrilled.
He was. Of course he was. And also, oddly, unsettled.
He sat at the kitchen table. The dishes were done. Only the syrup remained. Garrison stared at it, thought of the thousand and more breakfasts he'd shared with his son in the past seventeen years. The mushy bananas and rice cereal, the Lucky Charms Aiden had loved when he was six. He was the only boy in the world who picked out the marshmallows and ate the rest. Then there were stacks of pancakes and waffles and French toast. He thought of how young Aiden would turn up his nose at bacon, and how teenage Aiden could eat an entire pound.
How could Aiden be leaving?
Garrison had given up everything to rebuild his relationship with his son, and now... Rehab for three months. Sober living for much longer. By the time he moved home, he'd be a high school graduate, an adult.
Listening to him just now, Garrison realized his son was nearly an adult already. Mature. Wise. Not the teenager he'd been just a few weeks earlier. He had a plan for the next few years, maybe a plan for his life. And the talent—he couldn't believe the immense talent his son had been given. Where had it come from? Garrison had always known he could draw, but the design he'd conjured for that old cabin. Amazing.
Aiden was well on his way to becoming a man.
And what part would Garrison play in his future?
This was what he'd been working toward, what he wanted, for Aiden to grow up, to take responsibility for himself. But Garrison couldn't help missing that little boy sitting in front of a bowl of floating marshmallows, a dribble of milk on his chin.
"You okay?"
Samantha leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. He hadn't even heard the door open.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You're meditating on syrup."
"Fascinating stuff."
She crossed the room, kissed his temple, and whisked the syrup away.
Garrison watched her wipe down the counters and rinse the sponge. When she was finished, she turned and smiled at him.
Without Aiden to care for, Garrison's life would be different. But different didn't have to mean worse. With Samantha, different could be good. It could be very good.