The sun warms my face as I stretch out on the porch swing, savoring the pleasure of an afternoon with nowhere to be. I've got my schedule down to a science. Four days at the casino, five max for special clients. It's not the kind of thing I advertise, but it's the arrangement that lets me keep some sembnce of normalcy for the kids.

  "This is the life," I say, tilting my face toward the sun as Erin sits beside me, our shoulders almost touching.

  "It is," she agrees, taking a sip from her iced tea. The ice cubes clink against the gss as she sets it back down on the small table between us. "Nothing better than a zy afternoon."

  I gnce at my watch. 12:30 on a Wednesday. The neighborhood is quiet except for the occasional car passing by and the distant sound of someone's wnmower.

  "How is it you always have time to hang out during work hours?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Don't you have a barbershop to run?"

  Erin smiles, that confident smile that always makes me feel like she knows something I don't. "I own the shop, Will. But I have employees to work it." She shifts in her seat, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Though it is starting to slow down."

  "Ah, that sucks," I say, feeling a genuine pang of concern. Erin's salon has been thriving since she opened it three years ago. "The economy?"

  "Maybe. Seems like people aren't prioritizing haircuts these days," she sighs, leaning back and pushing the swing gently with her foot. "If things keep trending downward, I might have to make some tough decisions."

  "Like what?" I ask, turning to face her more directly.

  She shrugs, the movement casual but I can see the tension in her shoulders. "Maybe sell the business? I don't know."

  I nod, processing this. The thought of Erin without her shop feels wrong somehow. It's been such a part of her identity since I've known her.

  "If I sell the business, it won't be the end of the world," she continues, her voice a little too light. "I'll just have to go back to what I used to do."

  "And what was that?" For all the time we've spent together, Erin's past remains rgely a mystery to me.

  A small, enigmatic smile pys at her lips. "Something a bit less... wful."

  I raise my eyebrows, suddenly very interested. "Is there anything I could do to help you?"

  "Maybe..." she starts, but the rumble of an engine cuts her off.

  We both turn to see a sleek BMW pulling into my driveway. I cock an eyebrow, watching as it parks with precision next to Diane's beat-up Toyota. Shane steps out from the passenger side, looking more animated than I've seen him in weeks.

  A young woman emerges from the driver's side, her short bck hair catching the sunlight. Even from here, I can see her bright blue eyes scanning the property with confident curiosity.

  "Hey Dad! Hey Erin!" Shane calls out, waving as he approaches the porch. There's a nervous energy to him that I recognize immediately. He's trying to impress someone.

  "Dad, this is Olivia," he says, gesturing to the girl beside him.

  Olivia steps forward, her posture perfect as she extends her hand toward me. Everything about her screams money, the expensive sweater, designer jeans, that BMW, but there's something surprisingly genuine in her smile.

  "It's nice to meet you," I say, standing to shake her hand. Her grip is firm, assured.

  "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Gray," she replies, her voice carrying a slight hint of an accent I can't quite pce. "Shane has told me so much about you."

  I gnce at my son, who's watching our interaction with the intensity of someone monitoring a chemical reaction that might explode.

  "All good things, I hope," I say, falling back on the standard parent line.

  "Of course," Olivia ughs, releasing my hand. "He speaks very highly of you."

  I smile at the exchange, trying not to look like I'm analyzing her every move. The way she stands slightly closer to Shane than necessary, the confident but not aggressive posture, the way her eyes keep darting back to him even when she's talking to me.

  "Shane's told me a lot about you too," I say, which is a btant lie. My son's been tight-lipped about this girl, probably afraid I'd embarrass him.

  "We're going to go study," Shane announces, already edging toward the front door. "Calculus," he adds unnecessarily, like I might think they were up to something else.

  "Alright," I nod, trying to look casual. "Have fun."

  They disappear inside, and I shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a moment before returning to the porch swing next to Erin.

  "You worried?" Erin asks, watching my face with those perceptive green eyes of hers.

  "Terrified."

  She chuckles, the sound warm and comforting in the afternoon air. "Shane seems like a good kid at least."

  "I'm not worried about him," I say, pushing the swing gently with my foot. "It's the world I'm worried about."

  What I don't tell her is how I spent st night tracking down Professor Susan Kessler through the casino's client database. Tomorrow, I've got a private meeting scheduled with her to "discuss her teaching methods."

  "It must be so hard being a single dad," Erin says softly, breaking into my thoughts. "I don't think I've ever heard of it happening other than on TV."

  I shrug, watching a leaf spiral down from the maple tree in my front yard. "It's what we make of it. It was hard after Macy..." My voice catches slightly on my te wife's name. "But I found my footing and slowly rose from the ashes of that."

  "Do you ever want to talk about it? About her?"

  "Erin, I have a lot of baggage," I warn, not looking at her.

  "So do I," she counters, her voice steady. "Everyone does."

  I rub the back of my neck, feeling uncomfortable with where this is heading. "I don't know, Erin."

  She reaches over, her fingers brushing against mine on the swing. "I'm sure Macy would want you to be happy, Will."

  Something cold and hard forms in my chest. The words spill out before I can stop them. "She blew her brains out in our bedroom, Erin. Knowing I'd be the one to find her. I'm not sure she wanted me to be happy."

  "Jesus, Will," she whispers. "I didn't know it was... like that."

  I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Sorry to dump that on you. That was... more than I meant to share."

  Erin's fingers tighten around mine. "No, Will. I want to be here for you. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

  Her eyes are so earnest it almost hurts to look at them. There's no pity there, just a steady kind of strength that makes me feel both exposed and somehow safer at the same time.

  "I appreciate that."

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, just the gentle creak of the swing between us. The breeze rustles the maple leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across the porch. In the distance, that wnmower drones on, the sound oddly comforting in its normality.

  "Do you know why she did it?" Erin finally asks, her voice gentle but direct.

  I can't help the bitter ugh that escapes me. Bold question. But I get it. Everyone always wants to know the why, like there's some expnation that would make sense of something so senseless.

  "Not a fucking clue," I tell her, staring out at the quiet suburban street. "Came completely out of left field. She was always happy, you know? Thrilled when we had Shane. Excited about our future together." I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. "She didn't leave a note. Nothing."

  "My god," Erin whispers, her face paling slightly.

  "Yeah." I nod, watching a car roll slowly past my house. "The worst part was, we had pns that day. We were supposed to go to the park, take pictures of Shane with the ducks. He was only three months old."

  We sit in silence for another while. A muffled sound eventually breaks through my thoughts. Something coming from inside the house. A thump, followed by what sounds like... struggling? My ears perk up, blood rushing to my head as I hear what sounds distinctly like Shane's voice, distressed.

  "What is that?" I sit up straight, my whole body tensing.

  Another thump, louder this time, and what sounds like Shane making a pained noise.

  My eyes go wide as a horrifying thought crashes into my mind. "She wouldn't... she wouldn't try to rape Shane in my own fucking house, would she?"

  Before Erin can even respond, I'm on my feet and through the door. My heart pounds in my ears as I race down the hallway toward Shane's room. The sounds get louder, rhythmic thumping, heavy breathing, Shane's voice strained.

  I don't knock. I grab the handle and throw the door open, ready to tear this girl apart.

  What I see stops me dead in my tracks.

  Shane is on top of Olivia, who's tied to his bed. She's blindfolded, her expensive clothes scattered across the floor. And my son. My shy, quiet son, is very clearly in the middle of having sex with her. A box of condoms sits open on his nightstand.

  Shane's head whips around, his face contorting with horror when he sees me. "Dad! Get out!"

  I stand frozen, my brain struggling to process what I'm seeing. "She's not... hurting you..."

  "No, Dad!" he yells, mortification written across his face. "Get OUT!"

  "Are you hurting her?" I manage to ask, still trying to make sense of the scene before me.

  "No... I'm sorry, Mr. Gray," Olivia says from beneath her blindfold, her voice ced with embarrassment. "We should have been quieter."

  I back out of the room and close the door, my hand trembling on the knob. Erin is right behind me, her eyes as wide as mine must be. Without a word, we retreat back to the porch, colpsing onto the swing.

  "Oh my God," I whisper, staring straight ahead, still seeing the image burned into my retinas.

  "Well," Erin says after a long moment of silence, "at least they were using protection."

  I turn to look at her. "That is certainly one takeaway, yes."

  "Yeah," she nods, her expression somewhere between amused and sympathetic. "So if anything, that does make you a good dad..."

  "Yeah, I..." I trail off, still processing the image of my son. My quiet, shy, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly Shane, dominating a girl in his bedroom. "This one's new..."