I drop my dad and Evan off at a joined grocery store/café and wave them goodbye as I head toward Evan's father's house. Maybe I should be scared of meeting the man, or of lying to his face, but I'm not. I'm not filled with the rage I thought I would hold for him, either. I think it's because I've realized that he doesn't belong in the life I want to share with Evan. He's completely unimportant.

I park in the driveway of the address Evan gave me. It's a very nice, sprawling, single-story new construction on plenty of land. There is a Byrd Flooring van in the driveway. As I pass it on my way to the front door, I can't help but smile to myself as I remember my dad's offer to smash it in.

I knock on the door. The sun is starting to set behind me. Glide is a beautiful town, filled with beautiful homes and ranches such as this one, but I can't imagine being so removed from proper society. More than that, I can't bear to think about having a half an hour's drive to the nearest hospital.

The door opens. A tall, strong man in his late forties opens the door. He has Evan's eyes and the same light brown hair, but Evan must have gotten his good looks from his mother.

"Hello. Mr. Byrd?" I ask. He nods once and I continue. "I'm Audrey Juarez, a caseworker for the American Civil Liberties Union. I've been sent here on your son's behalf to collect the legal documents, such as his social security card and birth certificate, that you've been withholding from him."

At this, I expect a bit of anger. I expect him to ruffle a bit at the mention of Evan. Instead, his expression is carefully maintained to be mild, but I see fear in his eyes like I've seen far too often in Evan's.

"Is Evan okay?" he asks softly, his brow furrowing.

"Evan is fine. But he needs his property," I reply simply.

Mr. Byrd nods again and steps back. "Come in. I'll go grab it."

I step into the house. It's furnished in a similar manner to my own father's, with mismatched styles but a tidy upkeep. I spot photos on the wall and my gaze lingers on them as Mr. Byrd walks down the hallway.

One photo catches my eye. It's of a little boy, about nine years old, proudly holding up a fish while a beautiful woman with a shining white smile hugs him from behind.

This photo was taken over a decade ago, but Evan has the same wide smile. He got it from his mother. I see more resemblances the longer I look. The long, straight nose and high cheekbones, the pale skin and nimble fingers.

There are photos of the two of them everywhere. I see photos of a gorgeous maternity shoot where Evan's mother wears a long, flowing lilac dress. I see her kiss her little boy on the cheek as he munches on a s'more by a campfire. She holds him up on her hip at a parade. He sits on her lap as he opens Christmas presents.

Then I see one that looks insanely familiar. Evan's mother stands at the edge of a dock, her fishing pole in hand. The sun shines on her from behind, shadowing half of her face, but her loving smile is clearly visible. The photo was taken from the level of the water. I imagine Evan or his father in an innertube on the sunny day, snapping a picture of their beloved matriarch with a waterproof camera.

This is Evan's tattoo.

"She died when Evan was eleven. Cervical cancer," Mr. Byrd says softly. I turn to see him watching me as I look at the photographs. The sadness in his eyes is palpable.

There's a piercing pain in my throat at the thought of little Evan learning his mother has died. I clear my throat and reach for my phone. "Do you mind if I take some pictures?"

He shrugs, setting a small wooden trunk down on end table. The thing is barely the size of a shoebox and might have once been a jewelry box. Carefully, balancing my phone so as to avoid glares or reflections from the glass, I snapshot all of these happy memories. It would be nice to surprise Evan with them.

"You're not from the ACLU, are you? You're Evan's girlfriend. You fixed him," Mr. Byrd says softly.

I stare at him with all of the coldness I can manage. "Your son was never broken."

I open the box, take a second to verify that the contents include a birth certificate and a social security card, and turn to leave. But Mr. Byrd reaches for my arm, holding me in place.

"Don't touch me," I command, jerking my arm away. "I'll call the police and you'll have to explain why you withheld his legal property."

Mr. Byrd's hand falls. "Is he here? Can I see him?"

I shake my head. "No. He's not."

"How is he doing?" he asks.

"He's wonderful. He's happy," I reply.

Mr. Byrd looks away. Part of me pities him, but the rest of me is furious. He only wants to be in Evan's life now that he's with a woman.

But there's more to it. Maybe I'm a trusting idiot. Maybe I give people chances they don't deserve. Maybe the man standing in front of me is Lenny all over again. But I just can't shake the feeling that he regrets cutting ties with his only child, the only living remnant of the woman he loved.

"Write down your phone number. I'll let Evan decide what to do with it," I say shortly.

Mr. Byrd nods and heads into the kitchen. He returns with a note that contains eleven letters and ten digits.

Evan, I'm sorry.

I slip the note into the box and walk out the door without another word.

My mind whirrs the entire way back to the café. I don't know what, if anything, I should do with this new information about Evan's father. I don't know if his concern is earth-shattering or completely insignificant.

I hide the box under the driver's seat and lock my car after I park at the café. I see my dad near the window of the adjoining grocery store, so I head over there. I spot Evan's tall figure immediately among the shelves, and wave to my dad as he continues talking jovially with a man I can only assume is a friend or coworker.

"I got it," I say, sidling up to Evan. I rest my hand on his shoulder. "I got it all."

"How was he?" Evan asks. "Does he look... okay?"

I will never lie to this man. "He looked healthy but he seemed... sad. He asked if you were okay. He asked if he could see you." I swallow. "I told him to write down his phone number. It's in the car."

Evan nods, his eyes falling back to the assortment of chips and candies in front of him. "Do you think I should call him?"

I rest my cheek against his arm. "I don't know. But I will support you no matter what."

"I-"

"Byrd? Evan Byrd? What the hell are you doing back here, man?"

Pulled from our soft, heavy-hearted whispering, Evan and I look down the aisle to see a man in the khaki Douglas County Sheriff's Office uniform smiling over at us. He is shorter-statured, with spiky black hair and a wide grin that I am immediately suspicious of.

My suspicions prove to be correct when I feel Evan's lungs deflate a bit.

"Hey, Corbin. Just visiting. This is my girlfriend, Audrey. Audrey, this is Corbin Fowler. We went to highschool together," Evan says, his voice measured.

I recognize that this man will be a pain in the neck. Anyone from this small town, anyone Evan went to school with, is likely to be bothersome at the very least.

"Audrey. You're hot as hell, girl. What are you doing with a fool like Evan? You know he used to take it up the ass, right?" Corbin asks with a simperingly sweet smile.

There we go.

Evan's expression doesn't change from his polite fake smile, but I feel his muscles stiffen through his jacket.

I'm furious. I want to scream at this idiot for his bigotry, but that will definitely get me arrested. So I do the next best thing.

I give the officer a flirty smile and bite the inside of my lip as I reach to hold Evan, pressing my body against his arm like an attention-starved kitten. "I did know that. And honestly..." I whisper, making a show of licking my front teeth with the tip of my tongue. "I think it's really sexy."

I end this by kissing Evan's cheek, rubbing his chest in slow circles with my palm. I rest my head on his shoulder, still clinging to Evan like a jealous wife. I cast the officer what I hope is a sultry gaze before looking lovingly up at Evan. "Do you guys need to catch up? Or can we get out of this dump?" I ask him in a low, slow bedroom voice.

The cop is stunned. This is definitely not the reaction he thought he would get out of me, and I can practically hear him rethinking his entire bigoted worldview.

"I'm ready if you are, baby," Evan responds sweetly, resting his hand on my butt. "Nice seeing you again, Corbin. See you around."

"Y- you, too," the cop says, nodding, his expression still confused to the point of pain.

"Hey, dad, we're going to wait in the car," I call out, swinging Evan's hand as we walk toward the doors of the store.

"I'm coming," my dad says, giving his friend a hug before following us out. As they're getting buckled in, the cop walks in front of my car toward his own vehicle. His shell-shocked gaze lands on mine and I look over at Evan lovingly.

"That was amazing," Evan whispers as I pull out of the parking lot. "Audrey, thank you-"

"What happened?" my dad asks, picking up on the energy in the car.

"That cop tried to out Evan to me so I acted like him being bi was the coolest thing I'd ever heard of," I respond.

Evan's laughing in amazement, holding my hand over the center console, and my dad chuckles as he looks back at the police cruiser. "That's my girl. Don't let them get to you, Evan," my dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Audrey, did you get the stuff?"

"I got it all. It's in a box under my seat," I say, reaching down to tap the wood. "Whew. Adventures in homophobia. Just... awful." I look over at Evan. "Is this what it's like all the time? Fuck."

"On the bad days," he says, nodding. "But you... you're amazing, Audrey. Thank you."

I hold his hand up to my lips and kiss his knuckles. "Of course. I love you."

He grins. "I love you, too."

The penultimate chapter! Happy Valentine's day!