Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Yeah, that was exactly how it would go down. He tried to visualize it the same way he did in a soccer game—imagined himself making the right play at the right moment.
“Dylan!” Marilyn and Pat bustled in through the double doors of the rec center. Marilyn’s long flowing vest flapped behind her as she asked, “We’re not late, are we?”
“Nope. Right on time.” His smile for both of them came easily—he genuinely liked both women. The quieter, efficient Pat and the more social, generous Marilyn were both easy to be around, and their adoration of the girls was clear. “You know the drill for signing in, right?”
“Of course.” Unlike some of the parents, Apollo and the grandmothers never argued with the safety procedures. Heck, the way Apollo fussed over the girls, it was amazing that he hadn’t suggested additional security measures.
“Did Apollo text you? He’s on his way.” Pat handed over her ID and signed the sheet.
“That’s great.” Dylan kept his voice and expression neutral. After all, it wasn’t him Apollo was coming to see, and any leap in his pulse needed to be because he was happy for the girls, period. “The play is down that hall—”
“I’m here.” Apollo rushed in. Dylan was never going to get tired of the sight of him in uniform, shiny black shoes and shiny gold belt buckle glimmering under the room’s fluorescent lights, and biceps bulging under the khaki shirt sleeves.
“Wonderful.” Marilyn hugged him. Dylan knew from experience now that Apollo wasn’t much of a hugger, but he always seemed to tolerate it with good humor from the girls and Marilyn and Pat. “I can’t wait to see what the kids have come up with.”
Apollo smiled at him, the warmth in his gaze melting Dylan’s resolve to be objective about his presence. “Dylan’s been working so hard on this. You’ll love the costumes. I’m excited to see all his hard work come together.”
The pride in Apollo’s voice was unmistakable, and Dylan couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so proud of him—not Dustin or his parents or a boss. And sure, Apollo had been around when he’d been working on this, but he hadn’t realized that Apollo had really seen him.
“That’s wonderful,” Marilyn enthused, reaching out to squeeze Dylan’s arm. Apollo’s tender gaze didn’t leave him, and for a shimmering moment, he believed everything might be okay, that he and Apollo could have a future together, that Apollo would understand about the job application, that all that affection meant something.
“The girls were practicing the songs when we had them last week for dinner. Sophia’s voice sounds so much like Neal at that age,” Pat said, eyes going soft and wistful.
And just like that, the warmth fled from Apollo, who looked away, the walls that shielded him from his grief firmly back in place. Pat hadn’t meant to be hurtful—the woman didn’t really have a spiteful bone in her small body, but even so, her words pierced Dylan’s bubble of happiness.
The girls were always going to be Apollo’s and Neal’s, and he was always going to be an outsider on this little family. And even knowing that, he was still hungry for more of that pride and affection from Apollo.
You’re so fucked. He took a deep breath, made sure his voice was pleasant and light when he said, “The gym is down that hall. Need me to show you?”
“Nah, we’re good.” Apollo’s eyes met Dylan’s for an instant before he ushered his mothers-in-law down the hall, his look indecipherable—part pride maybe, part regret, and possibly part encouragement, but for what, Dylan couldn’t be sure. Yeah, they were well and truly overdue for the talk Dylan dreaded. But that would have to wait. Right then, the show had to go on.
* * *
Apollo shifted on the hard metal folding chair in the gym. He was going to need some serious hot tub time to loosen up his back muscles—maybe with Dylan, which was a nice thought. Funny how before Dylan he’d dreaded the hours of emptiness after the girls went to bed, but now he counted down to bedtime, anticipating when he’d next be alone with Dylan. Next to him, Marilyn and Pat were rapt in their attention on the front of the room where all the kids were clustered together, capes flapping and superhero masks drooping, and all together rather adorable. But even though Apollo knew his focus should be on the girls, his eyes kept drifting over to Dylan, who stood off to the side, microphone in hand.
“And so—say it with me—anyone can be a superhero.” Dylan coached the kids, queuing up what Apollo assumed was the final musical number, the kids singing along with a tinny recording of some recent pop song about finding happiness. The kids zoomed around, pretend flying as the song came to a close.