-Joyce-

"I knew it!"

Jim's loud whisper almost makes me prick myself. Exasperated, I set my pins down and drape our daughter's unhemmed dress across the table so I can give him my full attention. His eyes are wilder than I'm used to seeing them, and despite his triumphant tone, he looks anything but happy. "Those kids are definitely up to something," he goes on heatedly, pacing around like he does whenever he's cracking a case.

"You talked to them already?" I blurt, bewildered. "It's only been a few minutes..."

He waves off my question like it's not important. "I was going to, but they were already talking to each other - and you won't believe what I heard."

Taken aback, I hold up a hand, and he freezes. "Hold on. This whole time, you were eavesdropping on them?"

Jim doesn't meet my eyes. "Well, I heard voices..."

"So you crept outside the door instead of knocking?" I finish, and he doesn't deny it. "When I said you should 'open up to them and give them a little trust', that's not what I had in mind!" I scold him.

"Maybe they don't deserve our trust!" He snaps back. I frown, concerned by his feverishness. Then he takes a breath and continues in a lower voice, "Will is hiding something, and El is in cahoots with him."

I give Jim a dubious look, but the squirming in my stomach tells me he's right. Will was definitely acting strange at dinner...and if I'm being honest, he's been acting strange for a while now. Recently, he's been much more confident and chipper than he used to be. He's also gotten cheekier, but that doesn't bother me. (He's had that witty sense of humor since he first learned to talk; he's just more vocal with it now.) What bothers me is that he seems less inclined to talk to me whenever something's troubling him, like he's closing himself off. A few minutes ago, I sensed it again.

All this time, I figured that my son is growing up and becoming more independent, so I let it slide. This isn't my first rodeo, after all; Jonathan went through something similar when he was this age. And I don't want to be too overbearing and risk pushing Will further away. But now I'm wondering if I should've addressed all of this with him when I first picked up on it.

"You know what I think?" Jim continues in a conspiratorial voice. "I think he has a girlfriend, and I don't think it's a recent development. I think it's been going on for a few months at least."

The same thought crossed my mind earlier, when Eleven made that odd comment about double standards - but I'm still not convinced. "Why would he keep that from me?" I point out.

"I could come up with a few reasons," Jim mutters.

I frown at his knowing tone. "Hop."

"He's a teenager, Joyce."

"Yes, but this is Will we're talking about."

"People change," Jim says starkly. "Kids grow up and rebel against their parents."

"I know that - but I also know my son," I argue stubbornly. "I mean, do you honestly think he'd date somebody behind my back?"

"I didn't," Jim answers dryly, "until I heard him admit it." As I furrow my brows, he insists, "Whatever this is, it must be pretty serious, if he'd rather cause a big scene than tell us about it."

I bite my lip as I re-analyze Will's behavior at dinner. His outburst does make more sense as a defensive mechanism. Giving in to Jim's plotting, I question, "What did he say exactly?"

My detective partner resumes his pacing as he fills me in: "Well, I wasn't there for the whole thing - but at one point, he was talking about how people would judge or try to hurt him if they knew about it. He was making comparisons to Mike and El, and he told her, 'Your relationship is normal. Mine isn't.'" He pauses to survey my expression. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

Puzzled, I shake my head. This news is disturbing to me. So he must be in a relationship with someone, but who? What's 'not normal' about it? And who would try to hurt him? Is he in a bad situation?

"It's probably someone he knows you wouldn't approve of," Jim reasons with a scowl. "Maybe she's in a gang, or she's a lot older than him." I snort and roll my eyes at those ideas, and Jim adds in frustration, "I don't know, alright? But there has to be something wrong with this girl! Why else would he be so afraid to tell you?"

That question digs up a theory that I've had for a while now. Everything clicks into place as the scene at dinner replays in my mind. I remember seeing fear in Will's eyes when El mentioned him in her argument. At the time, I'd assumed he just didn't want to be dragged into the father-daughter fray. But as soon as Jim started questioning him, he didn't back down or drop the subject. To my surprise, he tapped into a stronger emotion: defiance.

"I'm not lying."

Maybe he was telling the truth, for the most part.

The more I think about it, the more confident I am that I'm right - and the more anxious I feel. How long has he been keeping this from me? Who else did he tell besides Eleven? Does Jonathan know too? Who is he dating, and how long have they been together? Oh, god. Have they-

"Joyce," Jim inserts sharply, pulling me out of it. He's watching me like he can see the dilemma unfolding behind my eyes. "Are you going to fill me in?" He pries knowingly.

I grimace and murmur, "It's just a hunch."

"Well, your hunches are usually spot on - and you know your son."

Jim's vote of confidence soothes my frazzled heart, but I don't answer right away. I'm not sure how to approach this topic - or if I even should. It feels wrong for me to share something so sensitive. But then I meet Jim's steady blue eyes, and all my qualms melt away. We've literally been through hell and back together, and I trust him with my life. More importantly, I trust him with my kids' lives. Why shouldn't I trust him with this?

"Did he ever actually say it was a girl?"

Jim's expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. "What are you saying?" I purse my lips and give him a meaningful look. When the realization dawns on him, all the fight drains from him, and he sinks onto the couch across from me. "Huh," he breathes. I get the sense that he's connecting all the dots just like I did. The air feels like it's full of static as the two of us sit in silence.

After a long moment, Jim furrows his brows at me and murmurs, "Do you think...?"

His unfinished statement arcs toward me like electricity; somehow, I know exactly what he's about to say. In the same instant, we turn and gaze down the hallway at Will's bedroom door. When our eyes meet again, we're wearing matching uneasy expressions. "Jesse," I whisper, and he nods slowly.

I rub my hand over my mouth as a flood bogs down my mind. Will and Jesse met on Halloween about a year-and-a-half ago, and they've been pretty much inseparable ever since. My ears ring as I try to count how many times Jesse has come over in the past few months. And when he's around, Will always seems happier than usual...but also more guarded.

How could I have been so naïve?

Jim is one step ahead of me this time. "Have we ever left them here alone?"

After pondering that for a few seconds, I shake my head and murmur, "Maybe once or twice, and only for an hour or two. But not often."

Jim nods, but he doesn't look very relieved. Then he sighs and grumbles in an ironic tone, "I guess he wasn't lying about who's coming to Mike's house." That gets a quiet chuckle out of me, but I think Jim can hear the worry in it, because he asks warily, "Are you okay?"

I let out a shaky breath. "How am I supposed to feel? My son's been with someone for close to a year or more, and I had no idea - even though it's been right in front of me this whole time. I mean, I understand now why he didn't tell me, but..." I swallow as emotion grips my throat. "I really wish...you know...that he felt like he could."

"Hey," Jim chides softly, taking my hand. "Don't beat yourself up about it. He knows how much you care about him. This stuff...it's not easy to talk about." As I nod and try to compose myself, Jim's eyes drift down the hall again. Grimacing, he adds, "Speaking of which, what should we do now? I mean, should I...?" He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Should I say something to him?"

Unnerved by the thought, I shake my head. "I don't think that's a good idea - not yet. We don't know for sure, and you don't want to sound like you're accusing him of anything." As Jim gives me an uncertain look, I put on some semblance of calmness, and I decide, "I think we keep the same plan as before. Just talk about what happened at dinner and let them know where you're coming from. I'll handle the other conversation, after everything's cooled down."

Jim blinks at me like I slapped him. "You're saying I shouldn't bring that up at all? I should just pretend like I don't know?"

"Considering what happened last time, I think that would be the best option," I say smoothly, "You need to give some trust to them, remember? No more interrogations - and definitely no yelling."

Jim directs a disgruntled frown at the kids' bedrooms. "How am I supposed to trust them when I know they're keeping secrets from us?"

I place my free hand on his arm and give him a meaningful look. "I think that secret is a special case. Don't you?"

Jim's frown turns wry, and he sighs. "Couldn't you talk to them?" He suggests hopefully.

"I'm not the one they're upset with right now," I remind him gently. "It would be better if it came from you."

"But you agree with me about this sleepover thing, right?" He checks.

"Well...to an extent," I answer hesitantly. As his uncertain look morphs into dismay, I confess, "As far as sleepovers go, I haven't set the best example with Jonathan and Nancy."

Jim's mouth falls open. "You let them...?"

"I never outright condoned it," I assure, "but I also never tried to stop them from sneaking around." As Jim continues to stare, I reason wearily, "They're seventeen, Hop. At this age, it's normal for them to want more freedom from us. The way I see it, if they really want to do something, they'll find a way. I'm not saying we should let them run wild, but sometimes the opposite is just as bad. Sometimes the best thing we can do for them is point them in the right direction and hope they take our advice."

Jim sighs and buries his face in his hands. "This is going to be a disaster, isn't it?" He mutters miserably, massaging his forehead like he's in pain.

Rubbing his arm, I tell him, "You can do this. You're good at these heart-to-hearts." He snorts into his hands, and I insist, "You are. I know you are."

When he reveals his plaintive eyes, I think of the speech he wrote for El, and I smile and plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek. That seems to give him the motivation he needs. Taking a deep breath, he gets up from the couch, but he keeps hold of my hand. Looking me right in the eye, he declares, "I love you."

Even though we've been together for over two years now, my heart still flutters when he looks at me like that. "I love you too," I answer warmly. I squeeze his hand once more before releasing it, and I offer him a final bit of encouragement: "Go get 'em, Tiger."

Jim chuckles softly at my childishness. Then he ambles down the hallway to knock on Will's door.