Page 29 of Doyle

Just picturing myself in a crowd of people I used to know made my palms sweat and my heart race.

Stan was Dad's best friend from work. He worked at a car repair shop since I was a kid and was close to everyone there.

Billy, Frank, and Joel were the guys I used to hang out with at school.

They made high school tolerable, but... I doubted I had anything in common with them now.

"It'll be fun. Stan and I will fire up the grill; he said he'll bring some ribeyes," my dad said, sounding excited.

I opened my mouth to refuse, to beg him to cancel, but then I saw the dark circles under his eyes, his thinning hair.

The past five years had been rough on him, that was clear as day to anyone.

If this little party could make him happy, then why couldn't I endure one night with the people who... cared about us both?

"Sure, Dad," I said, forcing a smile. "It sounds great."

He beamed at me, and I could see the relief in his eyes.

"Great! It'll be just like old times,” he said.

But it wouldn't be like old times. I wasn't the same person anymore.

The thought of facing these people, pretending everything was fine, filled me with dread.

What if they noticed how different I was? What if they asked questions I couldn't answer?

The day passed in a blur of anxiety and preparation.

My dad had taken the day off from work. He bustled around the house, cleaning and setting up for the party.

I tried to help, but my mind kept wandering back to Doyle.

I wished he were here with me, his steady presence a calming anchor.

As evening approached, I retreated to my room, trying to steady my nerves. I paced back and forth, my thoughts racing.

What would I say to my old friends? How would I explain what I’ve gone through, my changed behaviour?

The sound of the doorbell jolted me out of my thoughts. I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk downstairs.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw my dad opening the door to Stan, a burly bear shifter with a warm smile.

"Hey, buddy!" Stan greeted me, pulling me into a bear hug.

I stiffened, but managed to pat him on the back.

"Hey, Stan," I said, my voice shaky.

Stan pulled back, looking me over.

"You look good, kid. We've missed you,” Stan said.

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling awkward under his scrutiny.

Soon, the house was filled with people, laughter, and the smell of grilling meat.

I tried to engage in conversations, but my mind kept drifting.

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