Page 28 of Doyle

I walked over to the window and looked out at the familiar street. The sun was just rising, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood.

Everything seemed so normal, so mundane. But I felt like a stranger in my own life.

My thoughts drifted back to Doyle. I missed him so much it hurt.

I missed his protectiveness, his gentle understanding. I missed the way he made me feel safe.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories. What I needed to do was focus on the present.

I needed to reintegrate into my old life. But how could I, when my mind kept drifting back to Doyle?

I decided to go downstairs. Maybe some breakfast would help clear my head.

As I walked through the house, I noticed once again how little had changed.

My dad had kept everything just as it was, like a shrine to the life I once had.

It should have been comforting, but it only made me feel more out of place.

In the kitchen, I found my dad already up, sipping coffee at the table. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

"Morning, Michael," he said.

"Morning," I replied, forcing a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "How about you?"

I hesitated. "Not really. It's... strange being back,” I admitted.

He nodded again, his expression understanding.

"I can only imagine,” he said.

We fell into an awkward silence, the unspoken weight of the past five years hanging between us.

I could see the pain and worry in his eyes, the same pain and worry I felt.

"I miss Doyle," I blurted out, surprising myself with the admission.

My dad looked at me, his expression softening.

"It's okay to miss him, Michael. He was there for you when I couldn't be,” he said.

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"I just... I don't know how to move on from everything that happened,” I said.

“It’s okay, Michael. You don't have to do it alone," he said gently. “I’m here for you.”

I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Dad,” I said.

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’re strong, Michael. You’ll get through this, I promise,” he said.

I was about to grab another cup of coffee, when my dad spoke again, "Oh, right, I hope you don't mind, but I arranged a little get-together tonight. A welcome back party for you.”

Panic must've shown on my face, because he quickly added, "Don't worry, it's a small gathering, just Stan and the others. And of course, Billy, Frank, and Joel, your old friends."

My mind blanked for a second, and to my embarrassment, I couldn't recall any of the names he mentioned.

---