"Sooo...confession time," Grayson said.

He'd planted himself at the edge of the hospital bed, sitting at a slanted angle by Alex's blanketed feet. One of his hands was gripped around Alex's right ankle over the thin fabric of the blanket; another soothing gesture in the style of Grayson, though one rarely performed unless Alex happened to be sulking in bed.

"Business wasn't exactly slow back in New Orleans," Grayson went on. "And moving to Riviam Point wasn't exactly a business decision either. Kind of haven't been honest about that."

"Oh? Seriously?" Alex's face muddled, feigning ignorance. He wondered if at long last, his father would come clean about his stewing denial over the affair.

Grayson at least didn't seem so angry now, as Alex studied him, searching for any trace of that unhinged Grayson who had overtly cursed and attempted to dish out violence against his own brother, all in front of an audience. Alex could understand it, though. And if Grayson was still even a little bit angry now, Alex could understand that too. Even he still had some residual anger inside of him. Anger he hadn't been aware of until today.

"Yeah," Grayson continued, "so what happened was, a week after..." he paused, forehead crumpling. "...after the thing with your mom and your uncle happened, you had just come home one day after a walk around the Bayou. You came in through the back door, went straight to your room and didn't come down until dinner. And I remember that because that was the day I found it."

"Found what?" Alex asked as he shimmied upward in bed a few inches.

"On the floor by the back door, I found a letter, and it was inside this purple envelope." The hairs on Alex's neck stood on end, the crisp, unspecified feeling divulging itself as self-consciousness. "Don't get upset, but when I saw that it was addressed to you and the envelope was already open, I read it."

Alex remembered that day, well, a day like that at least. The beginnings of the two whole months he'd spent alone after the affair, isolated from everyone who knew the names 'Alex Prior' and '22-Bolt', too hopeless to pick up a pencil and draft any letters to his penpal, Carsyn, but so homesick for a conversation with her that he always took an older letter with him to re-read on all his walks, to relive those days where the thin shreds of hope hadn't been ripped from him.

To think he had misplaced one, dropped it on the floor, hadn't ever realized it until now. How could he, though? There were at least a hundred letters inside purple envelopes still placed neatly together in his drawer right now. But they'd always been one short, apparently.

Alex's soul felt queasy, like it could leave his body any second and float out of the hospital all the way through the ceiling, leaving the rest of him behind. He wasn't upset that his father had read a piece of some of his most intimate thoughts and encroached on a private conversation between only him and Carsyn. No, he was horrified by it.

"I know it was a shit-shippy thing to do, Grayson confessed. The petrified expression Alex wore must have been as conspicuous as the very blue sky. "I was only gonna take a peak at a sentence or two, but I ended up blowing through the whole thing. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I mean, it was just words on a piece of paper, but I honestly don't think I've seen that side of you before — so free-spoken, enthusiastic...happy. Actually happy. Not like how you were back in New Orleans."

"I held on to the letter since then. Never told you I found it because I thought maybe you felt like you weren't comfortable talking about this new friend, about Carsyn. I dwelled on the letter for days, though. Couple weeks later then, your mother and I had finally agreed on a divorce. That's when I got the idea about starting over completely, in a new town, new house, new people...new friends. Real friends. A new beginning for both of us."

"You...you..." Alex tried, both words and sound itself failing in his throat. It'd been a while since he'd had anything to drink since gaining consciousness, but in the furthest pocket of his mind, he knew that wasn't the real reason his speech was stalling. He tried again, "back then, like a week ago, you weren't really surprised when I told you about having a penpal for a year. You already knew about Carsyn."

"Guilty," Grayson admitted, shifting a bit more of his weight onto the bed's edge. It was then that Alex had a clear view of Grayson's free hand, as it rested on his dark-jeans covered thigh. Something red and dried staining his knuckles. Blood, it looked like. "I'm sorry, Lex-"

"Did you actually hit him?" Alex blurted, hauling the rest of his upper body out from under the blanket so he could lean in closer. "That's blood...You hit uncle Garrett."

Grayson snatched his hand away, hiding the bloodied knuckles behind his back. His other hand retreated from Alex's ankle as well, moving to lie tensely on his thigh.

"Did you get him in the face?"

Grayson adjusted himself, removing some weight off the bed. "I'm not gonna answer that."

Alex took that as a yes. Then his eyes went wide, an echo of a memory coming back to him. "You totally dropped an 'f' bomb before too."

Grayson outwardly sighed, a very disgruntled sound. His bloodied-knuckled-hand joined his other hand back on his thigh, out of sight from his son, like his now chastened eyes. "Do as I say, not as I do, Son."

A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of Alex's lips. "And what exactly are you saying, father?"

"Just...Try thinking before acting. There could've been a better solution than hitting someone with a golf club. Call the police, maybe?"

"But how long would that have taken? Evan was in trouble, it couldn't wait. I know it wasn't the best idea, but I had to do something before she seriously got hurt. You want me to say I'm sorry for putting myself in the hospital-"

"No," Grayson cut in, swiveling part of himself sideways at Alex once again, his keen peripheral vision catching a glimpse of his son's pitying eyes. "No. I understand you were helping your friend, and part of me is proud of you for it. But just...if something like this were to happen again, try at least considering an options that aren't direct violence. You could get hurt too, you know?"

Alex nodded, though he only got two head bobs in before lightheadedness kicked in, secreting from the back of his skull. Instead he gave a meek thumbs up and told his father, "okay, okay. 'Do some more thinking', violence is a last resort.'" Something prickled in his eye, both of them actually, in a simultaneously instant yet gradual stinging buildup. Something damp.

Grayson's hand found Alex's ankle again, though his grip was more unfastened than the last time. "And I was wrong before, absolutely wrong."

"About what?"

"My number one priority isn't the shop. It's you, Lex."

Alex winced, or maybe he cringed. He wasnt sure which his body had performed, but either way, what Grayson said had taken him aback. It wasn't news to him though, how much Grayson loved him. What was apparently breaking news though, was the fact they had moved to Riviam Point because of him. Alex's cheeks were damp too suddenly, tears streaming down his skin and onto his gown-clothed chest.

"Don't go feeling all guilty or anything like that," Grayson pushed on, reading the unwinding expression across Alex's face as if he'd written it there himself. "But I moved us to Riviam for you, so you could start over, be happy. You might not have ever said anything was wrong, but I've always noticed something wasn't right. First the thing with your mother, and then watching you...detach yourself from everything, everyone...you don't know how much it hurt seeing you like that, Lex."

Grayson looked away, his hand still limply holding on to Alex's ankle, but his eyes rapidly blinking as his other hand swiped at them. Alex could barely hold it in now; heavy inhales and exhales, body rising and falling, nose stuffy and nettled, throat tight and aggravated.

Both prior men, finally letting it all out. Better late than never.

Grayson sniffed, and he sniffed, and then a snort slid into a low chortle. "And you know, the business reason for moving out here wasn't exactly not true. It was doing 'fine' back in Orleans, just fine though. But even Harry thought we could be doing better than that. I offered to write him the best recommendation the world had ever seen when I told him I was movin' the shop to Canada, but he practically chewed my head off and said he was coming with me. He'd been on my back months before that about a raise. Looks like I'll actually have to give it to him now."

Alex watched him, tears letting up and grinning as the sound dipped into a hearty spell of laughter. Harry tended to have that affect on him. Alex would have to thank the hardware employee later for his stubborn loyalty.

Grayson didn't look so angry anymore. Right now he seemed...happy. Happier than Alex had seen him in months, even before the affair. And it was because of him that Alex was happy now, too.

"...thanks," Alex told him quietly.

"For what?" Grayson asked, his laughter dying down a bit and his grip back to cutting off blood circulation in Alex's ankle.

"For finding the letter that day. Thanks for that, dad."

It was happening.

No, it already happened.

Things had begun. Alex had changed. Grayson had changed. Everything was finally, at long last, different — happy.