The Visitation Rights

Kirsten looks surprisingly unchanged by her recent ordeal. She's dressed in her own clothes, looking casual yet classy; her hair a silky frame for her glowing face. Even the hug she enfolds him in is familiar – warm and comforting, the motherly embrace he'd never experienced until moving to Newport.

"Ryan, it's so good to see you," Kirsten sighs, her smile another dose of normalcy despite the fact they're in the visiting room of a rehab clinic. "Come on, sit down, tell me everything. How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," he says, taking the seat she directs him to. "How are you doing? This place, is it … helping you?"

"Oh, Ryan," she says, closing her eyes. "I'm so sorry for everything I did … what I said to you that day, during the intervention. It was awful and very, very unfair. You know how much having you as a part of my family means to me."

He shakes his head, silencing her. "No, Kirsten, please. It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're getting better. I miss you. We all miss you."

Kirsten leans forward to lay a hand on his knee. "How are my boys doing?"

"We're … coping," Ryan decides. He hesitates. "Seth wanted to come today, but, uh, something came up."

Her smile remains, but her eyes turn a little sad. "You're not a very good liar, Ryan – and I thank God for that, trust me. But I can understand why Seth is keeping me at a distance right now. It's probably for the best." She shrugs. "I wouldn't want him to see me here."

"You look healthy," Ryan protests. "You look like yourself again."

"I'm getting there," she answers. Then she blinks and shakes herself. "But let's talk about you. Really, honey, how are you doing with everything? I'm so sorry I missed the funeral for Trey. I know how hard that must have been for you."

Ryan thinks back. Strange how far away it all seems now, the great, overwhelming tragedy his life had been just a few weeks ago. He still misses Trey, that's a pain he doesn't think will ever completely ease, but his life seems to have settled down again. He's at home with the Cohens, dating Marissa … and, of course, kissing his brother's girlfriend senseless while both their significant others wait downstairs.

"It's been crazy," he finally replies. "But I'm getting through it. Trey was … Trey was a lot of things. He was my brother. But he was a lot more. I guess I just, I just have to accept that."

Kirsten sits back in her seat, a little awed. "Wow," she says, sounding impressed. "Ryan, that's … the most I've ever heard you say. You sound really good. There's something … different about you."

He shrugs, embarrassed, and glances at the door that Summer waits beyond. "I don't know what you mean."

She cocks her head to the side, a smile playing at her lips. "You're happy," she accuses. "Ryan … it's really good to see you happy."

"Same to you." He smiles. "But I should get going. Summer's waiting and I should get her home."

"Summer came with you?" Kirsten takes a minute to process this turn of events. "Actually, Ryan, it would be good to see her. Would you mind if we had a quick visit?"

He's not surprised, considering Summer can act as another link to Seth. "Sure," he acquiesces easily, sliding out his chair. "I'll send her in."

A few minutes pass and Summer appears – first just her head, peering cautiously around the door, then the rest of her as Kirsten gestures for her to take a seat. "Hi," she says tentatively. "Um, how are you?"

Kirsten smiles, hoping to put the girl more at ease. "I'm fine, Summer. How are you doing?"

"I'm … okay," Summer responds, avoiding the older woman's eyes. She usually doesn't do awkward, but she has no idea of the protocol involved in visiting a woman who acts as mother for both boys you've kissed in the past forty eight hours. "Ryan thinks you'll be home soon."

"I should be." She should also, Kirsten thinks, get to the point. "Listen, Summer, I asked to speak with you privately because I wanted to thank you. For being there for my boys these past weeks. Sandy tells me you've all but moved in with us. He also tells me you're about the only one Ryan talked to in the beginning."

Summer flushes. "He talked to Sandy and Seth more than me, I bet," she rushes to contradict. "I was just there … with Seth, obviously. So we hunt out. But we didn't, like, hang out, hang out. We just talked, sometimes."

"Right." Kirsten waits a beat, to be sure Summer's rambling has come to an end. "I see. Still, I'm grateful to you. I'm glad you were around to help Ryan through it. That boy has been through, well, a lot. As you know."

She studies Summer closely for another minutes, then sits back, satisfied. "Anyway … I'm glad he has you."

XXX

"Kirsten know," Summer bursts out the second she and Ryan are back in the car and heading down the highway.

Ryan's eyebrows furor. "Knows what?"

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Knows about us, Ryan!"

It's the first time either of them have acknowledged what happened between them on the Fourth. For a long moment, they're both stunned into silence by the memory.

"About that, Summer …" Ryan has never been more happy to be behind the wheel of a moving vehicle and have a flat, gray surface to focus on. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

Summer is taken aback, not to mention severely disappointed. Of all the ways she's imagined them dealing with The Kiss – and, okay, she's thought about it a few times, she's human, isn't she? – she's never pictured a knee-jerk apology from Ryan and an awkward silence to boot.

"Well, I mean, you obviously weren't thinking at all." Her lips are moving, but even she has no idea what she's saying. "It was a mistake. A careless … mistake."

She's so busy trying to cover her own disappointment that she doesn't notice the similar emotion that flashes through Ryan's eyes when he hears the M word. "I mean, really, you're … you. And I'm me. We're, like, worlds apart," she continues, channeling the shallow girl she'd once been and trying to convince herself nothing's changed. "And I'm totally committed to Cohen."

"And I'm with Marissa," Ryan counters. "It was a one time thing."

"Definitely." Summer reclines in her seat and rests her feet on the dash. It's a relaxed-looking pose, chosen to create the illusion that her heart isn't breaking into a thousand pieces. "Won't happen again."

Ryan nods, then glances over at the long line of bare leg she's propped on top of his glove compartment. He swallows, hard, and clears his throat before saying, "We're gonna need some ground rules."

Summer watches his Adam's apple work and bites her lip. "Agreed."

He takes a minute to consider. "Okay, well, the obvious: no alone time."

Summer affirms this with a nod, then adds, "And no wife beaters for you."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Okay, then no short skirts for you."

"But, sir," she protests in a fake Southern accent, fanning herself with one hand, "What ever will I wear?"

He chuckles – a rare Ryan laugh, short and genuine – and shakes his head. "This is ridiculous," he points out as he pulls into her driveway and turns to face her. "We're adults, aren't we? We don't need rules to control ourselves."

"You're probably right," she laughs and sticks out her hand. "Okay, from here on out, we act our age and keep our hands to ourselves. Deal?"

"Deal." He reaches out to shake on it, but draws back as their fingers graze and a jolt of electricity skims up his spine. Summer's sharp intake of breath lets him know he's not the only one who felt it.

They both stare down at their traitorous, almost-touching hands, then Ryan closes his around the gearshift instead and Summer uses hers to open the car door. "No physical contact," she proposes, hopping out and turning back to get his reaction.

He steels himself, then nods. "Agreed."