-Shawn-

I knew that I was being difficult.

As I glowered down at the brat from a distance, observing the way he attentively worked on my computer while purposefully avoiding my gaze; not for a moment, did it escape me that my own stubbornness was getting the best of me. I tried to bite down the snark, keep it to a minimum, but that wasn't doing much to soothe my exasperation.

Yet, through that, he kept diligently troubleshooting, going as far as to prolong his stay after mentioning that he'd run updates for all the necessary hardware while he was here, whatever that even meant.

I was unsure of which I found more bizarre: that he'd so easily fixed my computer, or that he was even willing to bother with it after I'd kicked his ass just the night prior.

Then there was the fact that he'd come all the way here just to return a wallet, something which made less sense the more I tried to wrap my head around it. I glared down at the offending piece of leather in my hand, huffing under my breath in indignation. Of course, of all the people that could have found it, it had to be this kid.

I'd probably lost it while dragging him across the front yard outside that goddamn party, dropping it in the ensuing scuffle.

And he'd just fetched it for me.

He brought it back without even expecting a thanks, like some dense, jaunty fucking mutt... wagging its stupid tail whilst eagerly being mistreated. The little shit was acting like some goddamn martyr, and it was all the more infuriating to know that I couldn't even despise him in peace. That it felt wrong, somehow.

"Shawn," the brat called out.

I looked up, noticing the sheepish, weak smile that briefly crossed his features. There he went again, acting as if a trivial favor would mend anything. Like we were friends all of a sudden.

"Mr. Briggs," I corrected, my arms firmly folded across my chest.

Eric's lip quirked up, as if he was itching to argue. Still, the kid just nodded his head and cleared his throat. "Mr. Briggs..."

"What?" I questioned, glaring at the brat until he averted his gaze once more. "Well, spit it out already."

"The web browser you're using is very outdated... s-should I download you a better one? The one I use—"

"Does it matter?" I questioned, rather disinterested in changing browsers. The one that I used was simple enough, and learning how to use a different one sounded more tedious than anything. "Is this what you're wasting time on?"

The kid shrugged, scratching the back of his head while signaling to the screen. "Well, there's not much else to do while waiting for the updates. Besides, you said your computer runs a bit slow when you're on the internet, right? That might be contributing to it."

I mulled it over, torn between just caving in to his obnoxious whims or kicking him out before I lost my patience. In the end, I just shrugged indifferently despite knowing damn well I'd be the one benefitting here.

"Fine," I muttered, narrowing my eyes when the stupid smile returned. "But make it quick..."

"Alright! I'll do it while your—"

"And quietly."

He silently complied, but not without pouting in displeasure.

I nearly felt bad, but it just pissed me off even more to think about how naïve the brat was being. He hadn't even taken some of the cash in my wallet, and now he was letting me order him around like he was on our payroll. Hell, he'd even offered to help me out with more, as if I deserved it.

"You better not be trying anything," I suddenly threatened, realizing that perhaps he had some underlying reason to want to access my computer. I'd chalked it all up to him being gullible, but he could be hacking into my shit for all I knew. "I-if you hack into my computer, or—"

"Hack into it? I'm already on it, though," the brat replied, snickering in response.

"You know what I mean!"

"Besides, I wouldn't need to be on your computer to mess with it... or you," he pointed out, tilting his head. "You seem like the type to open questionable e-mails."

"You want me to kick your ass again?" I scowled down at him while roughly gripping onto the headrest, leaning close enough that he recoiled back against the seat. He did have the nerve to huff up at me, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. He was probably trying to seem intimidating, but all I could see was a whiny whelp trying to feign a fucking backbone.

"You're such a jerk."

"You don't know the half of it," I muttered.

"I'm just trying to help."

I scoffed. "So?"

He sighed, ignoring me.

I opened my mouth to scold him, but then I thought better of it. The more I distracted him, the longer he'd be here. At this point, I just needed him to finish so he could leave. So, I stepped away, snorting when he relaxed against the seat once more.

After a few minutes of warily scrolling through my e-mails on my phone, I narrowed my eyes, realizing he was humming a bit under his breath, relatively composed as he frowned attentively at my monitor. He seemed focused, but not at all worried. Either the kid had no sense of self-preservation, or I was missing something here.

And sure, part of me understood that I was likely projecting my own frustrations onto the brat, lashing out because it was easier than to deal with all the conflicting, insufferable emotions that had come to the surface; and all that just led back to the overwhelming realization that, once again, I wasn't doing enough for my family. Sure, whatever, I knew all that already.

But that didn't make it any easier to ignore.

That didn't negate the ire that I felt boiling within me every single time that I looked at the kid's face.

"You should've kept it," I muttered under my breath, unsure of my own motives. Losing the wallet altogether would've been easier than having the kid do me a favor... two, now. Suddenly, I owed him, even though I was unwilling to pay him back in any capacity.

So, all I had was that sour reminder, stapled to my forehead like a fucking eviction notice.

"Mhm. I could've bought myself a pc nicer than this one," he replied off-handedly, chuckling to himself before slowly quieting down, realizing I wasn't laughing at his clear attempt to ease the tension in the air.

"That so?"

"I was... kidding," he muttered, ducking his head a bit.

I rolled my eyes, walking around and noticing he was still in the midst of doing a few more updates. How much longer would he take? His presence shouldn't be riling me up this much... and yet. "How much longer, kid?"

"Eric," he murmured un response, circling the progress bar with the mouse before glancing up at me. "My name's Eric."

"I didn't ask."

He grumbled, pouting to himself. "Whatever."

Every time I glanced the brat's way, it felt like a physical manifestation of all my errors as a parent. Another reminder. If only I'd checked in more last night. If only I'd come home straight after work. If only I'd realized Meghan would try something like this. If only... if only... if only...

I shuddered at the mere possibility of my daughter being in danger. Of her having to grow up sooner than necessary, especially when she had the choice to just be a kid. Because, sure, I'd been much worse than my daughter at her current age, but then everything had halted at once... like a reckoning. I kept throwing my life away until the very moment that her mother barged into my house on a random Saturday night, clutching a brown paper bag between shaky hands.

She'd shoved it against my chest and scowled up at me, refusing to sit down on the couch or talk about what the positive pregnancy test inside meant. And that's how she remained for the eight months that followed, unwilling to come to terms with the fact that we couldn't take anything back; our frail, high school sweethearts' delusion was dead long before we'd had the chance to let it unravel through distance... or maturity. But that was all but expected.

The animosity, I could deal with. It was the least I deserved for not standing up to her religious parents when they prohibited her from getting an abortion. For silently agreeing with her, but never having the courage to say it to their face. Truthfully, I was bracing myself for decades of that resentment, whether we were together or not. I was ready for that to be the rest of my life.

But then she was gone, a week into Meghan's birth. A day after being discharged from the hospital. And a single minute after dropping her off in my front porch like an unwanted parcel. She vanished into thin air with a single letter detailing the same thing she'd sobbed into my shoulder those past eight months: this wasn't what she wanted for herself.

We weren't the life she hoped for.

She was gone and I was left with this beacon of everything that I feared and adored; a fragment of recklessness morphed into a precious, tangible existence that looked just like her but frowned just like me. And I wanted to hold it against her, to detest her for leaving us, but deep down... I understood. I knew she'd had enough.

I could feel myself wearing down as well, overwhelmed under the weight of so much responsibility. Exasperated with every little thing, my sleepless mind going a thousand miles an hour as I tried to balance high school, work, and fatherhood.

But then I'd hold my daughter in my arms, peering down into those tiny, curious eyes, and the world would halt for just a moment. I could feel it, from the very first day... an adoration so profound and overwhelming that I felt my entire existence crumbling under its pressure, making way for something new and brighter. Until then, I couldn't have imagined what love truly felt like. So fully and unconditionally, for better or for worse. I finally understood, unquestionably, what it meant to have a purpose.

Nothing could ever matter more.

Now, at thirty-two, I could only somewhat recall some of those first hellish nights where my mom would walk into my room at four o'clock and take the screaming baby from my shaky, sleep-deprived hands... reminding me that everything was okay. Meghan was going to be fine, really; she was just being fuzzy because her favorite blanket was in the living room and not tightly wrapped around her little hand. That I wasn't a terrible father for forgetting about it; I could still go and grab it.

I could hardly remember the exhaustion, but the distress at her anguish felt just as present in my mind... no matter how much time passed. The deep, restless desire to make it right. There were many things that I was willing to compromise on, but her well-being would never be one of them.

So, perhaps I was being irrational as I glowered down at the brat, but what else could I do? I couldn't let it go.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked, stretching his arms before frowning up at me. He seemed awfully comfortable in my seat, leaning back against the headrest as his tired eyes peered into mine.

I nodded stiffly. "Stop wasting time," I scolded.

Eric sighed, opening his mouth to say something... before quickly reconsidering it. Then, he begrudgingly focused back on the screen.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading.