Chapter 16

Sandy emerged from the shower on Sunday morning to the smell of bacon and maple syrup. He had awakened before dawn with Kirsten still huddled against him, her forehead pressed into his arm, and he had eased out from under the sheets, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. She hadn't wanted to talk last night, had just crawled in beside him and guided his hands over her body. Now he pulled the sheets up over her shoulder, hoping she would sleep for a while longer. She had been so exhausted over the past two weeks, lying awake at night and sipping black coffee all day until she was jittery and anxious.

Sandy went quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. The table was set for four and Ryan stood at the stove, flipping bacon in a frying pan. He drew up his shoulders when Sandy entered and turned around. He had been chewing on something, but he swallowed so quickly it looked painful. There was a shadow of a bruise over his cheekbone and a cut on his lower lip.

"Making breakfast?" Sandy said. It was something Ryan hadn't done in a while. His first few weeks with the family he had cooked a couple of mornings a week, as though he had to earn his keep somehow, but that had gradually tapered off. Sandy wondered what Ryan was offering this time, a display of gratitude or an apology. It made him sick to think of all that Ryan had had to trade away, all these years, just to keep his chin above the water.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I thought I'd . . ."

He shrugged and laid his spatula on the counter.

"I put in an emergency call to your probation officer this morning," Sandy said. "Woke him up, I think."

Ryan nodded warily, folding his arms over his chest.

"He's going to write you up for the two violations, straying out of range and fighting," Sandy said. "You'll be issued a warning that goes in your file. But they're going to give you a second chance on the EM program."

Ryan let out a long breath.

"If you break the rules one more time, you're going to earn yourself a one-way pass back to detention. And I mean that, Ryan. I don't know if I can save you again."

"I know," Ryan said. He suddenly became very interested in the spatula.

Sandy sat down on the barstool and leaned forward, his elbows on the counter.

"So here's what's going to change," he said. "Technically, you still have a range of 100 feet with the bracelet, but we're not operating under those rules anymore. For now you're limited to the house, the pool house, and the area between them. Got it?"

"Yeah," Ryan said softly. He glanced at Sandy, then leaned over and turned off the burner.

"It's not a punishment," Sandy said. "I don't know how I could even punish you for what you did last night. It's a precaution. And that's the way it's going to be until you've earned my trust again."

Ryan nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. But you're going to have to make a choice, Ryan. About whether you want to be a part of this family. No one can make that decision for you."

"I made it," Ryan said and he made eye contact with Sandy, looking steadier than he had in weeks. "I want this to work. I do."

He was so earnest that Sandy wanted to believe him, but it wasn't that easy. It couldn't be.

"Then why'd you do it?" he said. "Why risk being taken away just to kick some guy's ass?"

Ryan took a deep breath. "I didn't know what I was risking. I mean, I knew, but – things are different now. I wouldn't do it again."

"What's different?" Sandy said.

Before Ryan could answer, Kirsten walked into the kitchen, pulling her robe around her.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she said. "Sandy, did you–"

"Yeah. Yeah," Sandy said. "Everything's going to be fine. Just a warning."

Kirsten rested her hand on the counter, her shoulders dropping.

"I was so scared," she said. "Ryan–"

She caught her breath and joined Ryan at the stove.

"Come here," she said, and when he looked at her shyly, she put a hand on his shoulder and drew him in, wrapping her arms around him. Ryan half-smiled and hugged her back. He didn't let go or stiffen up the way he usually did when he was forced to endure hugs. Instead he rested his forehead on Kirsten's shoulder, taking a deep breath. Sandy watched as Kirsten and Ryan stepped apart, a little awkwardly.

"Ryan, why don't you go grab Seth?" he said. "We can all eat together."

Ryan nodded and headed for the stairs. At the doorway, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, and left the room quickly.

Sandy slid off his stool and leaned over to take Kirsten's hand. She turned and gave him a shaky smile.

"I love you," he said. "You know that?"

"I do know that," she said, and pulled him in for a kiss

"So things are pretty good, huh?"

"Things are pretty good," she agreed.

Sandy smiled and rested a hand on her cheek. She leaned into his palm, and part of him wanted to speak up, to say there were good things everywhere if you just knew how to look. Maybe it was a talent, and maybe it was a skill he'd learned, but Sandy knew he would never have Ryan in his life, or Kirsten, if somewhere along the way he hadn't learned to look past the shields people put up. And then he'd never have Seth either, and Seth was just one good surprise after another. He wanted to tell Kirsten, but then she looked around the kitchen with one of her patented grins, equal parts amused and sheepish and delighted.

"Sandy," she said, "he made bacon!"

Sandy reached over and handed her a piece of bacon, and she popped it in her mouth, and he knew he didn't have to tell her anything. It took her a little longer, maybe, but she knew how to see the good things.

Ryan knocked on Seth's door, and when he didn't get an answer, eased it open and went cautiously into the room. He figured Seth would still be asleep, but Seth was sitting up on the bed, fully dressed in jeans and a bright red T-shirt. His legs were drawn up to his chest and a large book lay face down across his knees. Ryan moved closer and saw that it was a yearbook. Seth caught him looking and set the book on the floor, out of sight. He glared down at his striped bedspread.

"You here to say good-bye?" Seth asked, and folded his lips in a straight line.

Ryan leaned against the wall by Seth's nightstand, tapping his fingers on the stupid Rooney poster. He didn't know what to say. He'd known Seth was pissed at him, but he hadn't expected this.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Seth still wouldn't look at him. "You know what? I used to think if you got taken away it would be some stupid thing. Like a horrible misunderstanding. I never thought you'd pretty much ask for it."

Ryan sighed. "You were there. You heard what they said."

"Yeah. I did. And somehow, miraculously, I didn't punch anyone. Funny how that works."

"I'm sorry."

"You always say that."

"I was pissed, okay? It was stupid."

"Yeah," Seth said. "It was really, really stupid."

It was obvious that Seth wasn't going to give him anything, and Ryan couldn't blame him, really. He went and sat on the end of Seth's bed.

"Listen," he said. "Your mom and I had a fight yesterday. I thought she wished I'd never come back here. And I didn't want to stay here if she didn't want me. I didn't want to feel like that again."

Seth was quiet, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his T-shirt.

"Seth," Ryan said. "You don't know what it's like."

"Yeah, I do," Seth said. "Summer. Pretty much everyone I ever met. Until you got here." He lowered his voice on the last sentence, like he didn't want to say it at all. But one thing about Seth was, he couldn't help telling you the truth about things, even if he didn't want to. Ryan liked that about him.

"That's not the same," he said.

Seth shrugged.

"It's not," Ryan said. "In 10 years you won't care that the guys from the water polo team hated your guts. You're not even going to remember their names. But I'm always going to remember that the only mom I'll ever have just left."

Finally, Seth met Ryan's eyes, and he nodded slightly.

"Okay, it's not the same," he said. "But I still kind of know how it feels."

Ryan nodded, too, partly because Seth was right, and partly because he was pretty much talked out.

"And you have my parents, all right?" Seth said. "Don't say it's not the same, because I know it's not the same. But at least you have somebody, right?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, I'm willing to share," Seth said.

"Thanks," Ryan said, and he meant it. That was another thing he liked about Seth. He was always willing to share. Sometime maybe he'd tell Seth that, but he was done confessing things for a while, so they just sat in silence for a minute, Seth inspecting his fingernails while Ryan waited.

"You and Mom seem like you worked it out, maybe," Seth offered, a moment later. "You talked about stuff?"

Ryan smiled. "Yeah, Kirsten is pretty great. Remind me to tell you sometime how she yelled at the cops for me."

"Mom did?"

"Yep."

"Wow," Seth said, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. "I bet she's in a really good mood today. What do you want to bet she'll lift the ban on PlayStation? Like, just for today?"

"She's not in that great a mood."

Seth swung his feet off the bed so he was sitting next to Ryan.

"Then, sadly, you may never beat me at Grand Theft Auto."

"I'm so going to kick your ass," Ryan said, "and soon. I have real life experience, remember?"

"Yeah, at getting caught," Seth said, and Ryan knew that things were going to be okay with them again.

"I'm glad I did," he said.

"What, got caught?"

"Yeah," Ryan said.

"Yeah," Seth said. "Me too."

When Ryan and Seth walked into the kitchen, Sandy's arms were around Kirsten's waist and she was feeding him a piece of bacon. They pulled apart when he and Seth walked into the kitchen, Sandy smiling and Kirsten flipping them an embarrassed little wave. Seth shook his head. He seemed to be on the verge of making his usual horrified faces at his parents' displays of affection, but then he just looked down and smiled. Ryan was relieved, too.

The four of them just stood there for a second, and Ryan had to smile at the way all the Cohens looked kind of goofy and self-conscious and pleased all at once. He thought he probably looked that way, too, but he didn't really mind. The events of the past two weeks had passed over them like a wave, submerging some things and uncovering others. Not all good changes and not all bad, just rearranged. And maybe it was mostly good, in the end. For the first time in weeks Ryan felt like he could breathe.

He thought someone should speak, so he said, "Isn't that bacon getting cold?"

"I'll make some more," Kirsten said, picking up the frying pan and holding it in front of her uncertainly.

Sandy took it out of her hand.

"Honey," he said, "please, let me."

"Sandy!"

Ryan said, "I kind of cooked it all already, I think."

Seth grabbed the frying pan from Sandy and plopped down at the table.

"Let's just eat," he said. "I'm starving. Who cares if it's cold?"

"Not me," said Sandy, who was already chewing on a bagel anyway. He and Kirsten joined Seth at the table.

Ryan poked at the plate of waffles he had made earlier. He'd cooked too much food, but Seth and Sandy could probably work through it all pretty easily.

"These are cold, too," he said. "And there's definitely more batter."

"Ryan," Kirsten said, "please, sit down."

Ryan shrugged and carried the food to the table, the waffles in one hand and the dish of maple syrup in the other. He took his place at the table and unfolded a napkin in his lap, then shook his head. The others were helping themselves to the cold, greasy bacon and the rubbery waffles. Seth was already chewing waffles with great relish, as though he was eating some new delicacy. Kirsten politely nibbled on a strip of bacon. Sandy, Ryan noticed, was sticking to the bagel.

"Seriously, you guys, you don't have to eat this stuff just because I cooked it."

"Ah, but you're a great cook," Sandy said.

"You are," Kirsten said, with a completely straight face.

Ryan laughed and gave up. He went to the cupboard and grabbed a box of Frosted Flakes, then sat back down at the table.

"So I was thinking," he said. "I know this electronic monitoring thing is costing you guys a lot of money."

He noticed the ripple of tension around the table.

"Sorry," he said. "But – why should you have to pay when I was the one who screwed up?"

"I told you not to worry about that," Sandy said.

Kirsten set down her piece of bacon.

"I think you've already paid enough," she said.

"I just thought maybe I could get a job," Ryan said. He didn't want to push it, to ruin the good mood, but this was important. "If that would be okay. To help pay for it."

"What are you going to do, be our pool boy?" Seth said through a mouthful of waffles. When his parents both shot him irritated looks, he said, "Sorry. There just aren't a lot of jobs here around the house. Or at school. As far as I've noticed."

"Some kids serving time on EM do have part-time jobs," Sandy said. "But you just got written up for two violations, so I doubt your probation officer is going to rewrite your contract just yet. A month or two without violations, and that might change."

"There aren't going to be any more violations," Ryan told him.

Sandy said, "I know that."

"Are you thinking the Crab Shack again?" Seth said.

Ryan nodded.

"Great," Seth said. He stood up from the table and scraped his plate over the sink, speaking loudly over the noise of the garbage disposal. "Instead of paying my parents back in cash, you can just pay them back with free lobster. For the whole family, of course. You'll be our new breadwinner."

"Seth," Ryan said, "I didn't give you free lobster last summer and I'm not giving it to you now."

"Can't blame me for trying," Seth said. He plucked the cereal box from Ryan's hands and plopped onto the couch in the den, turning on the TV. "I call 'not it' on dishes."

"I'll do them," Ryan said. He looked anxiously at Sandy and Kirsten, who were having some kind of silent conversation with each other. Sandy's eyebrows seemed to be doing most of the talking. Finally, Sandy turned to Ryan.

"We'll think about it," he said. "Not the dishes. You're welcome to those. But the job. We appreciate you wanting to take on the responsibility, but–"

"But I think it might be safer for you to stay close to home," Kirsten said in a rush. "Wait and get a job after they remove the bracelet."

Ryan looked at the green linen tablecloth and twisted his napkin in his hands.

"I won't get in trouble again," he said.

Kirsten hesitated. "I know you'll try. We just need to be careful."

Ryan sighed. They didn't trust him, and he couldn't blame them. This time it was entirely his fault.

"It's just a job," he said. "And this is my responsibility."

He hated the look Kirsten gave him, sympathy mingled with exasperation.

"It's okay," he said. "I can take care of myself."

"We've heard that from you before," Sandy said. "But it doesn't always work. And you don't always have to. We're here for that."

"You haven't had much chance to just be a kid," Kirsten said. "We'd like to give you the chance, if you let us."

"You've given me so much already," Ryan protested. "And I get it, I know what you're saying, but-"

Sandy stood up.

"We hear what you're saying, too, and Kirsten and I will talk about it," he said. "Let's table the discussion for now, all right?"

Ryan sighed, but nodded. Sandy patted him on the back.

"It's really good to have you home, kid," he said, and joined Seth in the den.

Kirsten looked at Ryan.

"I'll wash," she said. "You dry?"

"Sounds good," Ryan said.

They washed and dried the breakfast dishes in companionable silence. That was one thing Ryan liked about Kirsten, that she didn't always try to fill silences, the way Seth and Sandy did. She liked the quiet, like he did, relaxed in the muted sounds of splashing water and the soft chatter of the television in the next room.

Kirsten handed him a plate, a faraway expression on her face.

"I thought–" she said, and stopped.

"What?"

"Well, I'd have to talk about this with Sandy," she said. "But how would you feel about the Newport Group? Instead of the Crab Shack, I mean?"

"As a job?" Ryan said. "What would I do?"

She thought for a second. "Mostly filing, answering phones, that type of thing, to start. But it would be a good chance to learn about the business, if you're still interested."

Ryan reached up to put the plate away, trying to hide his face behind the cupboard door so she wouldn't see how pleased he was. He wondered, for a second, if she just wanted him at the Newport Group so she could watch him, make sure he stayed out of trouble. But he decided that it didn't matter.

"That sounds really good," he said.

"And when you get the bracelet off, you could come with me to construction sites and model homes. Get a feel for what I do."

She looked quickly at him.

"Only if you're interested. No pressure."

"No, I'd like that," Ryan said, and smiled at her. "Except . . . you know I don't really have the best luck with model homes. Maybe I should stay away from them."

"You can't do that," Kirsten said. "Not if you're going to be an architect."

She turned off the water and wiped her hands on the dishtowel.

"I'll talk to Sandy," she promised. "Maybe in a month or so. In the meantime, we can go over some blueprints if you'd like. I can show you some things."

"Thanks," Ryan said. "It would be nice to have something to do until the sentence is up."

"I thought we could have Jimmy and Marissa over for dinner some night," Kirsten said. "I think Jimmy cooks almost as well as I do. Marissa's looking awfully thin lately."

"Yeah," Ryan said. It was a nice idea and he didn't really want to decline her offer, but he wasn't in the mood to sit through an awkward dinner with Marissa and her dad. "Look, maybe that's not such a good idea."

"No?" she said. "I thought it might be nice for you, seeing your friends."

"We broke up," he said. It didn't hurt as much as he'd expected, saying it out loud. "Yesterday."

"I'm sorry," Kirsten said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he said, and he meant: not at all. But he sneaked a glance at her. "I mean, not right now."

Kirsten nodded.

"You need time."

He felt a little guilty.

"It's just hard for her," he said, gesturing down at his leg. "All of this."

"Hard for her?" Kirsten said indignantly.

"Yeah," he said quietly, hoping she'd take the hint. She nodded, her face softening.

"We'll find other ways to fill the time," she said. "It's not too long."

"It's eighty-five days," Ryan said. "Not that I'm counting down, or anything."

He dried the last plate and thought about it. Eighty-five days of being trapped behind walls and windows. Eighty-five days to carry the weight of the bracelet, eighty-five days of his classmates either mocking him or ignoring him. Eighty-five days until he could walk on the beach again, or go down to the pier, or go to any parties with Seth.

Kirsten smiled at him. She looked worn-out, but mainly she looked – relieved. Happy, even. He smiled back at her and looked quickly at Sandy and Seth, who sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the den, laughing at some stupid cartoon. and Ryan thought, well. Eighty-five days to beat Seth at Grand Theft Auto. Eighty-five days of watching bad action movie rentals with Sandy. Eighty-five days of poring over blueprints and building codes with Kirsten, and finally learning to talk to her, maybe. He knew what Sandy would say to him. Eighty-five days. He could do worse. He looked out at the sun sparkling on the water, then at Kirsten beside him, and he knew, finally, that he couldn't do much better.

The End

Authors' note: We are insanely grateful to AKA, our amazing beta, who stuck with us for the months it took to write (and revise and revise and revise…). Also, thanks to ctoan, the expert on Casa Cohen and easily one of the most useful resources for OC fanfiction writers everywhere. And most of all, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. It's been just amazing hearing from all of you.