Part 4

"And he wants to go back, to live with his mother," Sandy concluded. "Look what your father has done now," Sandy accused his wife.

"Whoa there," Kirsten said, turning around from her dressing table to face Sandy who was sitting on their bed. "This is not all Dad's fault."

"You always defend him Kirsten. That man walks in this house with the aim to cause trouble. Usually it is between you and me but this time he found a new target- Ryan," Sandy volleyed back.

"I see. So Dad deliberately set up Ryan to have sex with Gabrielle."

"Let's get one thing straight. I believe Ryan and he says it didn't- that far. And yes, I do believe your Dad caused what happened to, well, happen. He comes waltzing in here with a sexy, twenty-four year old model. Twenty-four, for God's sake. Is it any wonder that Gabrielle finds Ryan more attractive than your dad? You know, it could have just as easily been Seth and Gabrielle. Wouldn't have that been great? Hanging out with a twenty-four year old ex-model, your Dad is asking for trouble."

Sandy got up and started pacing the room. "It's disgusting, the way Caleb treats people, like commodities to be bought, traded and sold. Hell, Kirsten. He even treats you that way.

Kirsten turned her back on her husband. "Sandy, that's not fair. We've talked about this before and I won't have you talking about my Dad in that manner."

"It's the truth. Honey, he came into our house, beat up our son and threw him through a glass door."

"That was an accident."

"Maybe, but the fight was not. It was calculated and uncalled for."

"Sandy, I've talked to Dad about it. Let it go."

"And what about Ryan? What shall we say to him. 'Hey, ignore it. That's just Caleb'?"

"Ryan's not totally innocent here either."

"He's sixteen. He's torn up inside 'cause Marissa can't make up her mind between Luke and him. So yeah, when Gabrielle came on to him he responded, inappropriately, but-," Sandy spread his hands wide shaking his head. "Kirsten, he wants to go back and live with his mother. Things are not alright here."

"He's hurt, he's upset, he's not thinking clearly. We'll deal with this tomorrow, after things settle down a bit."

Sandy sighed. This was going nowhere. Kirsten had a blind spot when it came to her dad. Well, it was not really a blind spot. His wife knew what her father was really like, but she chose to make exceptions for a lot of his behaviors, more exceptions than Sandy felt were justified. As for Ryan, well Kirsten was right. They'd face that obstacle tomorrow.

Part 5

It was a bad night. Finding a comfortable position to sleep in was impossible. He couldn't lie on his left side because of his arm or his right side because of the bruised face. He had never been able to sleep on his back and as for lying on his stomach that hurt both his arm and his face. It was a no-win situation. Finally he grabbed the blanket off the bed and propped himself in a chair. It wasn't great but at least he was able to sleep for small amounts of time. When the sun finally rose, he felt more tired then when he went to bed. He levered himself out of the chair, splashed some water on his face in the bathroom and wandered across the patio to the main house

Seth was in the room when he dragged himself into the kitchen.

"You look- well rested," Seth said in jest.

Ryan grunted in reply heading for the cereal cabinet. With his head still pounding, Captain Crunch seemed too noisy a choice. In fact, cereal was not appealing to him this morning. Wandering over to the stainless steel fridge, he opened the right-hand door and stared. Eggs. They were soft and quiet but required preparation, which would be difficult with only one usable hand. After mentally examining and rejecting a number of items he finally settled on yogurt. Easy to eat. Quiet. Snagging a container with his good hand, he swung the fridge door shut with his foot. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, he perched on top of one of the bar stools to eat. Opening the container with one hand was not a successful venture so he took his injured arm out of the sling and used it to hold the container while he peeled the top off with his right hand.

"I would have opened it if you'd asked," Seth stated flatly. "No charge."

Ryan shrugged again.

"My you're awfully chatty this morning," Seth remarked.

Ryan glanced up at Seth, raised and lowered his eyebrows in his classic maneuver and then went back to eating his yogurt.

"So Ryan, was there any truth to what my Grandfather said yesterday? You didn't," Seth inserted a hand signal, "-Gabrielle did you?"

"No," Ryan answered, short and curt.

"Any idea why Gabby would have claimed you did?"

Ryan rolled his right shoulder. "Maybe she was pissed 'cause nothing did happen. I kind of gave her the brush off after Marissa- saw us."

"Details, dude. What happened?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Not going to work, Ry. Spill it."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeated but without conviction. He really did want to talk about it, needed to get it off his soul.

Seth simply waited him out. Finally, Ryan pushed the half-eaten yogurt away and staring at the granite counter top, spoke. "Gabrielle was mad- dogging me at the party, like she was playing some perverted game. Coming up to me, doing- things, saying to find her later. Then Marissa showed up at the party with Luke and they were all over each other. Made me, I dunno-"

"Jealous?"

Ryan winced, the truth hitting home. "Anyway, I was out in the pool house when Gabby came in and-"

"Ravished you?" Seth cut in jokingly, not realizing how close to the truth he actually was.

"Even if she started it, I certainly was willing participant. We were on the bed, hot and heavy, when Marissa walked in."

"Dude, not a good scene."

Ryan shook his head remorsefully, his face mirroring the regret he was feeling. "She, Marissa, ran out of there. I tried to find her, couldn't, she'd left with Luke," he finished in disgust.

"You need to call Marissa and explain."

Ryan rubbed a weary hand across his eyes, flinching as he touched his bruised flesh. "It's too late. I did talk to her or rather she talked to me. I waited up, watching for her to come home. She came home, with Luke. I wanted to talk, to explain but she stopped me. She said 'You're too late' walked in the house and shut the door." Ryan finally voiced his fear out loud. 'I think she and Luke, they-", he couldn't bring himself to say it but Seth was smart enough to be able to fill in the blank himself.

"Wow," was all Seth could come up with at first. "But hey, so what. It is not like they got married or anything. So they had sex. Big deal. Doesn't mean you are out of the running."

Ryan rounded angrily on Seth. "Don't you get it? I drove her to do it. With him. All because of- because I was stupid. I hate this place!" Shaking his head, he stormed out of the room leaving Seth to stare after him in concern.

Part 6

Over the next two days, Ryan avoided interacting with the Cohen's as much as possible. Attempts to talk to him were met with stonewalling and silence. By tacit agreement, Kirsten and Sandy gave the agitated teen some breathing space.

Seth, on the other hand, kept dogging Ryan. He decided to make yet another attempt to talk to Ryan, who had been brushing him off like a pesky mosquito for the past two days. On his way to the pool house, Seth spotted Ryan walking down the driveway, bike in his good hand. Hurrying, he caught up with the blond boy before he hit the street.

"Where ya going?" Seth drawled.

Ryan glanced over at Seth, but didn't answer and didn't stop walking.

"Perchance our you on your way out?"

'Work," came Ryan's one word response.

"Ok, and what about your arm? You gonna be the one-armed busboy today?"

Ryan looked at the aforementioned body part and shrugged. "The shirt covers the bandage. I'll remove the sling when I get to work. I can use the arm. It'll work."

"While you do have a plan, albeit flawed, I feel compelled to point out that you were specifically told not to use the arm for a week, correct? If my reckoning of days is accurate, while it feels like a week has passed around here, in actuality it has only been, hmmm, two days. Seems to me you are five days short of using that arm. Unless of course you want the stitches to rip out and start bleeding all over your customer's food though I gotta tell you Ryan, I don't think it will increase your tip intake."

Ryan halted and faced Seth. "I don't want to lose this job. I'll make this work. I'll do the lifting with the other arm."

Seth shook his head unhappily. "I don't think Mom and Dad are going to be happy-"

Ryan cut him off. "You won't tell them and they won't find out."

"Pardon me, but don't you think they'll notice you're missing around the house?"

"I don't want to lose this job," Ryan repeated. "You will tell them that the restaurant put me on light duty, like the cash register or something."

"That's a good idea. Instead of me lying to the parental units, why don't you, in real life, ask the Crab Shack to put you on light duty or simply ask for time off? Surely they would understand."

Ryan snorted and started walking again, pushing the bike along. "I'm sixteen. How many jobs do you think there are out there for sixteen-year olds? I can't be making demands."

"Well at least let me see if I can borrow the car and drive you there, save you riding the bike, crashing and breaking the other arm."

"Fine," he replied. Ryan really wasn't looking forward to riding there anyway.

"Settled. And then I'll pick you up tonight. You can tell me all about your day dear," he added coquettishly. "Be right back."

Part 7

Seth glanced in the corner of his computer screen and noted it was 5:15 pm. Nearly time to pick up Ryan from work. He closed off what he was doing on the screen, grabbed a jacket and he headed downstairs to get the keys to the car.

As he had predicted, his Mom had thought it was too soon for Ryan to get back to work, but like a good brother, he lied and explained Ryan was on 'light duty' and his mom had relented. In fact she had even been proud of him for offering to drive Ryan to and from work. Imagine that.

Making his way down the back stairs into the kitchen, Seth plucked the keys off the peg and turned to leave. He was drawn up short when his Grandfather suddenly appeared in the doorway. Without formalities, Caleb asked, "Where's Ryan?"

His grandfather had complimented him on having a quick wit in the past. Seth definitely had something cross his mind to say, but he wasn't sure his grandpa would find it all that witty at the moment so he kept it to himself and simply said "At work."

"And where are you going?"

"To get him."

"You don't have to. I will go get him."

"Ah Grandpa, I don't think-"

Caleb cut the boy off. "Where does he work?", he demanded.

Seth hesitated. "Well?," his Grandfather pressed.

"The Crab Shack. Down at the pier. But I really don't think it's a good- " but Caleb had already left leaving Seth talking to the air.

"Who was that?" asked his mom, coming around the corner.

"Grandpa."

"Oh. And he left already?"

"Yes," Seth said rather dazed at the sudden turn of events. Facing his mom he added, "He went to go pick up Ryan from work."

Kirsten mouth dropped open, "He what? Why?"

Gesturing helplessly, Seth said "Target practice?"

Kirsten gave her son a disapproving look while she wondered what to do. Follow after them? Surely her father wouldn't pick another fight, well at least not a physical one, with the boy, would he? What could the man want with Ryan? Not really sure what was the right thing to do, Kirsten opted to wait and see.

Part 8

Ryan's shift had been pure torture. He had ditched the sling in the car before entering the restaurant, so his boss had no idea he was impaired. He'd explained his battered face by claiming a biking accident, which also covered why Seth had driven him to work should inquiring minds want to know.

Using all kinds of tricks and maneuvers, Ryan had managed to spare his hurt arm, to some degree. He 'd only dropped two items so far, which, overall he felt, wasn't too bad.

About three-fourths of the way through his shift, his injured arm had began to throb and he went into the men's room to swallow a couple of aspirin. Rolling up his sleeve while in the privacy of a stall, he noted a few small bloodstains on the bandage. 'Not a great sign', Ryan mused but nothing he could do about it. He'd make sure he rested the arm tonight. Rolling his sleeve back down he'd washed up and went back to work.

The last thirty minutes of his shift were sheer hell. His right arm, which had done the brunt of the work all day, was aching as much as his left arm. To add to his misery, he had a headache; stress related no doubt. Ryan was so focused on his personal misery that he failed to notice Caleb walking through the Crab Shack's door.

Caleb decided to take a table in the far corner and watch the boy for a few minutes before making his presence known. Ordering and receiving a glass of Merlot from the waiter, Caleb settled back to observe. 'To his credit,' Caleb thought, the boy was hustling at his job, keeping the tables clean, serving the customers and generally keeping things flowing smoothly. He did note the boy had an awkward manner of using mainly his right hand for things while holding his left arm somewhat oddly, near his body. Picking up his glass, Caleb moved back outside to a table where he could observe the only visible exit from the restaurant. He'd wait here for Ryan.

As he finished sipping his wine, he mused over again, as to why he was here. Earlier, Caleb had received a phone call from Gabrielle, who had heard God knows where, that he had beaten up Ryan. She had called him an old fool and told him that nothing had really happened between her and Ryan, that she had made up the story to hurt Caleb, and that they were through. 'As if', Caleb snorted, 'I would have had anything more to do with her anyway.'

Somehow though, the whole incident had made him feel uncomfortable about what he had done to Ryan. He had tried to rationalize it by saying the kid had burned down his house, but Caleb knew he was lying to himself. He hated to admit it, and he wouldn't to anyone but himself, but Kirsten had been right. He had been a fool, with injured pride and he had taken it out on Ryan, unfairly. Somehow that self-revelation had compelled him to seek out Ryan though he still wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was going to apologize to the boy. Maybe, he told himself, it was curiosity. He wanted to determine what Kirsten, Sandy and his grandson saw in this kid. Why they let this delinquent youth live in their house.

At 6:00 p.m. on the dot, Ryan removed his apron and clocked out. He was beat. He hoped Seth was outside since he had not seen him come in the restaurant. The last thing Ryan wanted to do was wait around. Walking out into the waning sunshine, Ryan peered around for Seth.

"Looking for someone?" a voice asked, familiar but not quite registering.

Ryan turned to see who was addressing him. His stomach did a flip-flop when he realized it was Caleb. The man stood up and tossed the money to cover his bill on the table. "Come on, the car's this way."

Ryan stood rooted like a tree not comprehending what was going on. He glanced around again, hoping Seth would magically appear.

"If you're looking for Seth, he's not coming. I'm taking you home." Caleb took a step towards Ryan and he noted the boy actually backed away from him. "Come on," he said again, impatiently. "I'm not going to beat you."

Ryan realized he had unconsciously moved away from Caleb. Squaring his shoulders, he stood up a little straighter and his face took on a defiant look. "I'll walk," he declared.

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll ride, with me, now." Caleb turned on his heel and walked off towards where the car was parked.

Ryan hesitated, not wanting to go, but somehow feeling compelled to do so. Shrugging and thinking what the hell, he trailed along behind the man.

When they got to the green Jag, Caleb motioned for the boy to get in. Ryan opened the door and slid into the luxurious sports sedan. With a rotation of the key, the engine purred to life. Caleb was a smooth and confident driver, easily maneuvering the vehicle through the early evening traffic.

Ryan, who was starting to learn his way around the OC, noted that they were not heading towards the house. "This isn't the way to the Cohen's," he pointed out.

"No, it is not," Caleb replied.

Silence draped the car. Ryan started to sweat as he grew more unnerved by being in a car with a man who, two days ago, beat the crap out of him, on a way to an undisclosed location. Ten minutes later the car smoothly slid into a parking place in front of a three-story office building.

"Come." Getting out of the car, Caleb started towards the door of the complex. Ryan exited the Jag, shut the door behind him but not did move onto the sidewalk. When Caleb realized the boy was not following him, he stopped turning around.

"What are you waiting for?" asked the older man impatiently.

Standing his ground, Ryan demanded, "Where are we going?"

Caleb strode back over to the boy, grabbed his left hand and rotated the teen's arm until the underside of the forearm was facing up. Ryan yelped and attempted to pull his arm free. Caleb did not release his grip and ordered, "Look."

Compelled, Ryan looked where he was told. He saw that the blood that had been on the bandage had soaked through to his shirtsleeve. Ryan grew hot and his skin flushed. Caleb released the boy's arm. "We're going to see my doctor."

Without another word, Caleb headed away with the utmost confidence that the boy would follow. Ryan thought about defying the man and then thought better of it. What would he gain? So once again, he trailed in the forceful man's wake.

Up to the third floor they traveled where Caleb entered a waiting room that was nicer than the last house Ryan had lived in. Caleb headed straight to the receptionist where he bullied his way into an immediate appointment. Ryan did not even have a chance to sit down before they were ushered into a examination room.

While Caleb might have been able to intimidate his way to an instantaneous appointment, it still took a while for the doctor to come into the room. Caleb stood near the medical cabinets in the room, arms crossed on his chest. Ryan moved as far away from the man as the room allowed, standing awkwardly by the window.

When the doctor finally arrived he greeted Caleb like an old friend. The physician noted Ryan in the room, but ignored him until Caleb chose to introduce the boy. After a few comments about sailing and golf, Caleb got down to business.

"This is Ryan, Bob. He has been living with my daughter's family."

Bob took a good look at the boy, doing a quick analysis, noting the contusions on the face and the careful way the boy was holding his left arm.

"You need to take a look at his arm."

The doctor walked towards the exam table, indicating that Ryan should hop up on it. Reluctantly, Ryan did as indicated. Doctor's did not thrill him. The doctor gently took the boy's arm and rolled up the sleeve noting the bloodstains on the shirt and later the bandage.

"What happened?" he queried gesturing at the wrapping.

Ryan glanced over at Caleb who stared, unblinking, straight back at him.

"I, ah, cut it," Ryan said dropping his eyes to the floor.

The physician took a pair of small sharp scissors from a nearby drawer. He carefully inserted the scissors' point under the edge of the bandage and started to snip away the stained material. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Two days ago."

With the bandage removed, the doctor examined the wound. "You have ripped open the stitches, son. What were you doing? Didn't the person who stitched this up give you instructions not to use the arm, to allow time for healing?"

Ryan looked at the Doctor, then out the window without answering.

"Well, I'm going to have to restitch some of the wound. I'll be back in a moment," he said, leaving the room.

After the door closed, Caleb rounded on Ryan, "Where you instructed not to use that the arm?"

Ryan found himself answering the question. Caleb was a compelling man.

"Yeh," he reluctantly answered, looking down at the oozing wound.

"Then what were you doing at that restaurant?"

Ryan had it with this man and his patronizing attitude toward him. "Working, alright, I was working. I didn't want to lose the job. I need the money." Ryan stared contemptuously at Caleb. "I know you think I'm freeloading off your daughter, but believe me that's not what I want. I hate owing them or anyone. I'm trying to pay my own way, got it? And that means working."

Ryan bounded off the table and paced to the window, running his good hand through his hair. "I know you think I'm scum, that you don't want me around your family. I get it."

Ryan turned to face Caleb. "You think that I hooked up with Gabrielle to spite you or something. That couldn't be further from the truth. She was all over me. I should have put a stop to it right up front. But I didn't and for that I owe you an apology. But I won't apologize for living with your daughter and her family. That's their decision, not yours."

Ryan looked away again, his voice taking on a haunting quality. "Where I come from, you don't get many chances like this, to have a better life. I intend to keep my nose clean and take advantage of this chance to escape. If that doesn't sit well with you then so be it. But I won't let you or anyone screw this up for me. And if that means I have to sit there, being insulted by you every time you come to the house, or if that means allowing you to beat me to a pulp, then so be it. It won't be the first time I've been beaten. At least this time I have something to gain. I won't lose this chance," he repeated vehemently.

The door opened readmitting the doctor and cutting off any response Caleb might had made. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife and it did not escape the doctor's notice. But the physician knew Caleb all to well and whatever was going on between him and the boy, the doctor did not want to get in the middle of it. So he ignored the tension and focused on healing the boy.

Pulling the rolling stool to the side of the exam table, he indicated that Ryan should sit on the seat and place his arm on the table. After adjusting the lamp to shine on the area to be stitched, the doctor readied the rest of his tools. Forcing the air out of the syringe, he injected it into Ryan's arm near the wound. "This will numb the area," he explained.

Ryan watched the physician thread the needle, but looked away when he started sewing the skin back together. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it still made his stomach queasy if he thought about the sharp needle jabbing back and forth through his skin.

It didn't take long for the wound to be stitched. When he was finished, the doctor applied an antibiotic cream to the affected area and rebandaged the arm. Moving across the room to a cabinet, the physician located a sling. He brought it back over to Ryan, slipped it around his neck, placed the freshly bandaged arm in it and then adjusted it to his satisfaction.

Stepping back to survey his work and finding it acceptable he issued parting instructions. "Now Ryan. I want you to keep the arm immobile for at least the next five days, seven would be better. After that, light lifting only for the next two weeks. Keep the area clean and apply this ointment twice a day with fresh bandages. It will be sore so I suggest taking extra-strength acetaminophen as needed. If you need stronger, call my office and I'll prescribe something."

Ryan accepted the tube, shoved it in his pocket and nodded to indicate he heard the instructions.

Turning his attention back to Caleb, he said, "He's ready to go. Are you back in town for a while Caleb? Maybe we could get up a foursome for golf."

Bob opened the examination room door and indicated Caleb should precede him. The two men walked down the hall discussing golf with Ryan trailing behind. They parted company at the reception desk, with no mention of payment. Caleb simply shook hands with his friend and he and Ryan left. It was a whole other world up here. In his neighborhood they wouldn't even let you in the door until you proved you could pay.

The trip back to the car was similar to the trip into the building. Caleb was in the lead moving swiftly and confidently through the maze of hallways and Ryan was trailing in the rear.

When they got back to the car, Ryan slid back into the supple leather passenger seat, buckled up and closed his eyes. What's next, he wondered? He knew what he wanted to do. Go home and crash, but if he had learned anything about Caleb in their short association, it was that it really didn't matter what anyone wanted to do when Caleb was around, because you were going to do what he wanted to do. Caleb started the car and pulled back into the traffic with ease. They rode in silence, the California scenery sliding by unnoticed. Ryan had his eyes shut and Caleb's concentration was on the road. Ryan started to drift off when suddenly Caleb's strident voice roused him back to a groggy consciousness.

"Kirsten tells me you're interested in architecture," Caleb stated.

Ryan shrugged, eyeing Caleb out of the corner of his eye. 'Kirsten had told her father that?' he mused. 'Wonder why?

Caleb changed tacks. "I talked to Gabrielle again, since I saw you last."

'-when you beat the shit out of me,' Ryan added silently.

"She said nothing happened between the two of you."

'Which again, is exactly what I told you as you were playing macho man on my face,' Ryan thought to himself..

"Perhaps I was a little hasty in my judgment, but I still say you are trouble and my daughter is going to be sorry she allowed that husband of hers to talk her into keeping you."

Ryan stared at Caleb's ear, then looked away in haste out the window to cover his confusion. Had Caleb just apologized to him, even if offhandedly?

Silence descended again and remained in place for the rest of the trip. Not soon enough for Ryan, they arrived back at the Cohen's. Not a word was spoken as they exited the vehicle and entered the house. Kirsten, who had heard the car drive up, met them at the front door.

"Is everything Ok?" she asked neutrally.

"Fine," he father returned briskly. "Do you have a glass of Merlot for a thirsty old man?"

"Sure, Dad," she answered. "Are you OK, Ryan?"

"I didn't lay a hand on him," her father said. Kirsten wasn't sure if that was a joke or not.

"I'm fine," Ryan mumbled. "Kind of tired. I'm gonna go lay down." Head down to avoid eye contact, Ryan beat a hasty retreat.

"That Merlot?", prompted Caleb, indicating that Kirsten should precede him into the kitchen.

"Sure, right away," Kirsten said, moving past him to go get two wine glasses.

The two adults sat on the patio, sipping wine and chatting. They discussed the business, Jimmy Cooper and a variety of other topics, but not one word on why Caleb had driven Ryan home from work. Kirsten had tried to approach the subject but Caleb had simply stonewalled her at every pass. Kirsten had learned over the years if her Dad did not want to discuss something, it did not get discussed.

Sandy came home from work to find his wife and his father-in-law still sitting on the patio.

"Look at the time," Caleb said suddenly, looking at his watch and rising from his chair.

"Oh, don't leave on my account," Sandy countered glibly.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, Kiki," Caleb said. Nodding curtly at Sandy, he left.

"What was he doing here?", questioned Sandy.

"He's my father. Why shouldn't he come to visit?"

Sandy slid into the now vacant chair. "How about because last time he was here he beat up Ryan."

"Well, today he drove Ryan home from work."

"What?" Sandy replied, caught totally by surprise. "Why did Caleb drive him home?"

"Honestly Sandy, I have no idea."

"And what was Ryan doing at work anyway? He's supposed to be resting that arm."

"Seth said they put him on light duty."

"He really shouldn't be working at all. Where is he now?"

"In the pool house, sleeping I think. Said he was tired when he came home with Dad."

"I still don't get that," Sandy remarked, scratching his chin.

"Dad didn't enlighten me."

"I'll bet. Well maybe Ryan will shed some light on the situation."

Kirsten wondered about that. If there was one trait her dad and Ryan shared, it was the ability to be closed-mouth. They might learn no more from Ryan than they had from her father.

Part 9

Kirsten saw the lights come on in the pool house so she knew Ryan must have woken up. She figured the boy would be hungry, having missed dinner, so she decided to bring him something to eat. She put together a PB&J sandwich, poured a glass of milk and carried the two items with her across the patio to the pool house. She rapped lightly on the door before entering.

"Ryan?" she said. The boy came out of the bathroom, toweling his damp hair.

"I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you a sandwich."

"Thanks," Ryan replied.

They both stood awkwardly for a moment before Kirsten moved to place the plate and glass on the coffee table by the bed.

"So, you and Dad, ah, got along OK this afternoon?"

Ryan rubbed the towel through his hair again, not because it was wet but because it delayed him from having to answer Kirsten's question, at least for a few minutes. The boy moved over to the edge of the bed and sat down. Kirsten took one of the chairs opposite.

"Your dad," Ryan said, hesitantly. "I think he apologized to me, kind of." Ryan grimaced. "I'm not 100% sure, but I think he did, in an off-handed sort of way."

"Hmmm. Apologizing is not Dad's strong suit."

"Yeah," Ryan laughed mirthlessly. "I sort of got that impression."

Ryan studied his bandaged arm with great interest. It felt awkward to be discussing this with Kirsten. "Your dad. I guess Gabrielle finally told him the truth. That we didn't, ah, sleep together. So I think your Dad was sort of saying he was sorry, for this," Ryan finished moving his left arm and glancing up at Kirsten.

"He's not an easy man to understand, Ryan. But he's my dad."

Ryan gave Kirsten a little smile. "I get it. Really. Like my mom. I mean she has screwed up my life more times than I can count, but she's still my mom. And my dad, well we won't go there."

Kirsten smiled gently in return. "Well, I'll leave you to eat dinner in peace," she said rising from the chair.

"Thanks- for the sandwich and all."

Kirsten returned to the main house while Ryan settled in to eat.

Part 10

Sandy had his head stuck in the fridge rummaging for a snack when the patio door opened and closed. Ryan walked in, empty glass balanced on top of a plate holding a sandwich with one bite taken out of it. Carefully, the boy laid his burden on the granite island top.

Sandy shut the fridge door and leaned on the counter. "Dinner?" he questioned gesturing at the plate.

Ryan scratched his head. "Your wife. She, ah, made me a sandwich and a glass of milk. The milk was good," he answered with a rueful grin.

Sandy examined the sandwich in question. It was 99% peanut butter, 1 % jelly on what looked like rye bread. He shuddered. "How about I rustle you up a plate of leftovers from dinner."

"That would be great. My arm, it's kind of sore," Ryan, indicated as he slid into one of the counter stools.

"Speaking of your arm," Sandy said opening the fridge and pulling out some containers. "What were you doing at work today anyway? Not cool Ryan. You could have ripped the stitches out."

"I did," Ryan said sheepishly.

Sandy closed the door and laid the items on the counter. 'Care to explain?"

Ryan winced. "I went to work. I used the arm a little too much I guess. Caleb came to pick me up after work. He noticed my arm was bleeding, took me to his doctor who restitched it and then brought me home. Oh yeah. He apologized, I think, for accusing me of sleeping with Gabrielle."

"Well," Sandy said, raising his thick eyebrows. "You have had a busy day."

Ryan nodded in tacit concurrence.

"But seriously, Ryan. Going to work dude, not smart."

Ryan ducked his head again. "Yeh, I know. But I didn't want to take a chance on losing my job. I can't have you and Kirsten paying for everything. I need to- contribute."

"And if that's how you feel I have no problem with that, but within reason Ryan. And working with that arm, that is not within reason. While we're talking about this, if this job interferes with your school work, you'll have to quit."

Sandy moved about the kitchen fixing the plate of food for Ryan then placing it in the microwave to warm up. While he was at it, he made a plate for himself too. When they were heated, he brought the plates over to the counter, placing one in front of Ryan.

"Now, would you like me to cut your meat for you?" Sandy joshed.

"No, I think I can handle-that."

Sandy took the other plate over to the vacant stool and sat down.

They ate in companionable silence. When Sandy had finished, he pushed his plate back and dropped his napkin on the counter. "The other day you asked me to contact your mom. Well, I didn't do it yet. I will if you want me to-" Sandy said, leaving the statement hanging open.

Ryan stopped eating and slowly put his fork down on the counter. He looked over at Sandy. "No," he replied hesitantly as if questioning whether Sandy would take that as an acceptable answer.

"Ok, fine," Sandy, said cheerfully. "It's forgotten."

The gratitude showed in Ryan's eyes when he said "Thanks."

"So you got the old man to apologize, "Sandy said, rising to clear the dishes. "Damn that's good. I've been married to Kirsten for what, 19 years, and her father has never apologized to me, for anything."

"Guess he must like me," Ryan countered grinning slyly. The two males shared a good laugh, both knowing Caleb might tolerate them, but would never admit to going as far as liking them.

Sandy clapped Ryan on the shoulder, wishing him a good night before heading upstairs. Ryan sat at the counter for a few more minutes, thinking how lucky he was. Yeh, maybe he did not fit in the OC, but he found a place in the Cohen household, and that was good enough for him.

The End