“Hey, buddy,” he called, stepping out of the SUV. “You doing okay?”
Evan’s smile was thin and brittle.
“Yeah, Dad.”
He did not run forward. He did not reach up for a hug.
Grant kept his tone light even as tension coiled in his chest. “Everything good this week?”
“Yeah,” Evan replied quickly. “I’m just sore.”
“Sore from what?”
Evan hesitated, eyes flicking back toward the duplex before returning to the pavement. “We were playing stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Sports.”
Grant knew his son well enough to understand that answer did not fit because Evan avoided organized sports with passionate consistency, preferring robotics kits and graphic novels over any ball field.
Grant opened the rear door of the SUV. “Alright, let’s head home.”
Evan approached the seat slowly, placing both hands on the door frame as if steadying himself, and instead of sitting normally, he lowered himself inch by inch before stopping halfway and leaning forward with his arms braced against the back of the front seat.
“I’ll just sit like this,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”
Grant closed the door gently and slid behind the wheel while his jaw tightened in silence.
The drive back to North Scottsdale felt stretched and heavy, every bump in the road made Evan stiffen, and every red light seemed to trap them in a moment that refused to move forward, and when Grant asked a few gentle questions about school or dinner plans, he noticed the answers became shorter and more guarded.
When the gates to the house opened and the soft exterior lights illuminated the driveway, Evan usually smiled at the familiar sight of the desert landscaping and the low modern lines of the house that had once been featured in a home design magazine, yet tonight he barely lifted his eyes.
Inside, dinner was already plated, grilled chicken and vegetables still steaming under warm light, and Grant pulled out a chair at the long kitchen table.
“You can sit,” he said casually.
Evan remained standing, shifting his weight awkwardly.
“It’s okay,” he insisted.
Grant stood and moved closer, lowering himself to meet his son’s eyes. “Evan.”
The tears came instantly.
“I can’t,” Evan whispered, voice trembling. “It hurts too much.”
Something inside Grant hardened into clarity.