Page 13 of Almost Always

“How?” he asked, untying his long hair from the topknot he’d put it in that morning. “How do I make friends?”

“Go to a bar, look up singles events in town or maybe even meet other parents. It’s always helpful to meet the parents of kids the same age as yours. That way you can organize playdates and make friends at the same time.”

He nodded. It did mean spending more time forcing politeness during drop-off and pick-up, but it was a start. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

Louise hummed and they chatted about his work schedule, how to maintain it and find the proper balance. She walked him through a few more simple exercises for when he was feeling like he was failing his son. It was easy to talk about it in these sessions, but to actually put them into practice was a whole other thing. Rafferty knew that if he didn’t help himself, he wouldn’t be able to help Cal, and that was the main thing driving him to sort his shit out.

Before the end of the session, Louise did one of her favorite rapid-fire question rounds. She asked ten questions and he had to answer instantly. Apparently it helped her understand his mental state a little better for next time. He enjoyed it because the questions were often silly or simple—favorite song right now (“Stargazing” by Myles Smith), a color you wish you could wear (orange), if you could have anything for dinner, what would it be (a giant bucket of popcorn) . Afterwards, he lay in the grass with Boots tucked into his side until they had to pick up Cal from school.

“Do you think my new therapist will like me? Or will they think I’m weird too? Maybe I should take Boots with me, he can help me be brave. Indigo says that they also go to therapy and get to eat candy afterwards. Can I also eat candy after therapy? Indigo is so cool. Their aunt makes them cookies whenever they ask for it. Can you make me cookies?”

This stream of conversation had started at pick-up. Rafferty had responded to the first few questions, then let his son ramble on because he didn’t actually expect a response. Something had happened at school—somethinggood, judging by the bright eyes and fidgeting—and his son was unable to stop talking. He would never curb Cal’s questions, because he taught him to always be curious.

He was regretting that lesson a little.

Honestly, he was nervous about Cal’s new therapist too. She came highly recommended by Louise and reviews online promised that she would handle every client with utmost care. The plan was for the two of them to attend the first few sessions together until Cal was comfortable going alone. He knew the drill as well; he wouldn’t get any information from the therapist unless there was cause for concern.

Walking up to the ice cream shop, he held the door open for his son. The sheer number of people startled both of them and Cal backed up a step, slipping his hand into Rafferty’s. That was the deal—if they were in a crowded place, they had to hold hands. He’d lost Cal once in a mall and it had been the most stressful twenty minutes of his life. Ever since, he’d implemented this rule so that they wouldn’t be separated no matter what.

“Can Indigo come home one day?” Cal asked as they joined the line of people waiting to place their orders.

“Sure, but I need to meet their parents first.”

“They only have a dad too!”

He looked at his son and found him looking around the crowded shop. Zara had given up her parental rights six months after he was born, but she’d come back when he was two and spent a few hours with them. Cal hadn’t connected with her that day, and despite knowing that he had a mother, very rarely acknowledged her. He respected Zara’s decision, but their son would never fully understand.

“I’ll get in touch with their dad and we’ll set something up, okay?”

“Okay!” He moved forward as far as he could while still holding hands. “Do I have to try something new today?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” he responded with a smile.

The adventurous spirit that resided in his son didn’t care for new and confusing foods. Cal was a simple kid that way. Give him chocolate, pepperoni pizza, a cheeseburger, and he was happy. Watching his son grow up, evolve and become this amazing person was his favorite thing in the whole fucking world. He had done his best to encourage Cal to try new things, but there was only so far he could push the kid.

“What are you getting?” Cal asked, swaying side to side.

“So you can steal my ice cream?”

Cal giggled and leaned against his side, head resting at his hip, their hands still linked. With his free hand, he ruffled his son’s hair and turned to the never-ending line. The Ames men were restless people and very often, long lines could change their minds. Not that day, though. Cal had been talking about ice cream since breakfast, so nothing in the world was going to deter him. Even if he was fidgeting and testing the length of their joined arms.

Rafferty, on the other hand, took that time to look around. He had always loved people watching, crafting little stories about them in his head and wondering just who they were. There were families with little kids, groups of teenagers and individuals that had come for a cold treat. His eyes snagged on one of those solo customers wearing a faded mustard cap. Thick dark hair covered most of their face before falling over a large denim jacket.

But his gaze returned to the cap.

The sides were covered in frayed stitching and dull drawings of weird-looking flowers. He tilted his head at the familiarity of the sketches. He once knew a girl who would doodle them all over the place, including the inside of his forearm—he’d gotten a few of those permanently added to his skin years later. When long fingers with dark orange nails tucked hair out of the way and he saw their profile, his heart jumped.

No. Fucking. Way.

Her mouth lifted in a smile and he saw the soft indent in her cheek confirming who he was staring at. She’d always wanted a dimple and did everything possible to make it happen, but all she got was a tiny depression. When she turned away, he saw letters stitched into the back of the cap—his grandmother put his initials REA forRafferty Everett Ameson all his belongings so he wouldn’t lose them—and felt a surge of joy.

My Daisy girl, in the flesh.

He’d spent the last twenty years wondering how her life turned out and now they were separated by eight people waiting to order ice cream. He smiled as he stared at her—the silky brown skin, the straight nose and full pink lips capturing his attention. Until the filthiest words filled the shop. Everyone went silent and she froze before scrambling to stop the audio. Her hair fell over her face again, blocking her from view and he forced his heart to slow the fuck down. Daisy had alwayshated being the center of attention, so it was no surprise that she burrowed deep into her jacket before vanishing out of sight. At the gentle tug on his arm, he looked down and found Cal frowning up at him.

“What was that?” he asked, leaning around the people in line to see what the commotion was. Everyone had gone back to what they were doing, but a handful were still muttering and whispering about what they’d heard.

“Remember Nonna used to listen to audiobooks?” At Cal’s nod, he continued. “That was from an audiobook and had some words that you don’t need to know about yet.”

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