Author's Note: We're back to dad's POV. As always, thanks for all the excellent feedback! It's great to know that the story resonates and to hear what you most want to see for these guys. I might start creating illustrations. Feel free to continue emailing any thoughts to [email protected].
Chapter 4: Steam
RICHARD
July 2025
The cruising became routine.
That's what I read it was called, during one of my horny moods, prowling online: Cruising.
Call it a midlife crisis. But there was just something about the way I watched Steven -- my blond and blue-blooded son-in-law -- plowing into my son Matt last month. The way he made a whimpering slut out of my Matty, who I had just seen powerfuck an Italian babe with me a few days prior. Seeing a man submit: It got my mind running in overdrive. I wanted something new.
Sure, I had some experiences with guys in the past -- in threesomes sharing a girl, don't get me wrong. But now the floodgates were open. I wanted to get up close and personal with some studs myself. Just to try it out.
All those years of opportunity that I had as a coach now felt wasted... Season after season of prime, grade-A beefcakes slinging back their towels and swinging their meat in the showers, and I barely paid attention...
But that was ok. I'd have my fun now.
So the antics started, naturally, on my own turf -- a locker room.
One evening at rush hour, I drove to a nondescript gym on the outskirts of Austin. I skipped the workout this time.
The locker room's always been a sacred space for us guys, for as long as I used to coach and even still. Tonight, the room felt hushed and intimate. Voices low. Metal lockers clicking open and shut, but I hardly heard any of it. I was people-watching. Couldn’t help it now.
Steam drifted around my legs as I stepped out of the shower, towel around my waist, hitting mid-thigh.
There, by the row of sinks, was a sweet college kid with an easy stride and a towel tight around his hips. Barely a man, really. Flat stomach and a chest that hadn’t filled out yet but would someday. Shoulders smooth, dime-sized nipples. Lean, tight build. He was still dripping from the shower. Water traced clean lines down his chest, cutting over the small ridges of muscle he didn’t even know he had.
He was laughing with a buddy, and when he turned to grab his bag, he raised one arm overhead and stretched his side. A long, strong line from his dark and untrimmed armpit to his slender waist. My breath caught in a small, stupid way that I hoped nobody saw.
I moved down the row.
An older guy, about fifty, walked by me on the way to the showers. Taller than me, veins visible along his forearms. His stomach wasn’t flat but solid. Thick. Strong. He scratched his beard as he passed. Salt and pepper. Looked good on him. He nodded slowly. A little curious? Maybe I imagined that.
A group of three men filed out of the sauna -- gym buddies, clearly. Heat rolling off them. Skin flushed. That smell of sweat and cedar wood hit me low in my chest. It was the kind of scent you don’t forget once you’ve busted a few loads there in the sauna yourself.
I caught my reflection in the mirror. Nice... My shoulders looked broader from the extra work I’d been putting in these last few months. Chest filling out again. Deltoids defined. I flexed discreetly. This'll come in handy.
A couple rows down, in the same aisle as my locker, another man stood toweling off. Early forties, a sleeve tattoo running down his left arm. Thick chest hair trimmed short. Strong legs and a meaty ass.
I sat, pretending to dig through my gym bag, while he rummaged in his locker then dried his feet.
Close behind me came another man, early forties. Latino, 6'2", towel slung low on his hips. His own chest tight as a drum, every part of him toned. He shook out his hair, and water sprayed across his shoulders. He had that solid, working-man build.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and glanced at me. Not a flirt. Just a look.
Heavy enough that I felt it. He sat on the bench across from me and leaned forward to grab his bag.
He caught me noticing. Not a long look, but enough to register. His mouth twitched. Almost a smile, but not quite.
In a flash, he lifted the hem of his towel and showed off his cock -- thick, tanned, and uncut -- training his eyes onto mine. My heart jumped and, almost by instinct, I grabbed the bulge in my towel, keeping one wary eye on the tattooed man in our aisle. With a jerk of his head, the Latino signaled to the sauna, and that was my cue.
As I stood up, I felt that old flicker of guilt about Audrey... It passed through quick. Twenty years together, a whole life shared. But nothing here would change that.
I entered the sauna, which was now empty and set at the perfect temperature. A minute later, the Latin hunk joined me without a word and sat on the bench perpendicular to me. He wasted no time. He spread open his legs and pulled out his six-inch dick through the folds of his towel, now full-mast and ready.
I followed suit and whipped out my penis -- semi-hard but still clearly outsizing his. His lips pulled tight in a smirk and he stroked his dick faster, his eyes bearing right at my chest.
I started feeling pretty cocky. Those extra days in the gym have been paying off. While I kept pumping up my own eight-inch fuckpiece, I flexed my pecs. I felt the twin mounds of muscle in my chest squeeze tight between my biceps. All this attention was putting me on edge, and when I looked down, I saw those quarter-sized nipples of mine pointing straight at attention.
We heard the scattered chatter in the locker room fade away.
In the heat, my swollen nuts hung low and heavy on my towel. I massaged them with my right hand, while my left kept sliding my foreskin over my slick glans. He mirrored my actions, rubbing his own hairy set of balls across from me. I think I enjoyed this stranger's attention even more than watching him jerk off.
Minutes later, this horny bastard scooted close to me and tried to go down on me. I blocked him with my forearm pushing back his shoulder, and he took the hint. He sat back and stared at my cock still dancing in my hands.
He aimed his dick inside his towel and bit his lip. With a low moan, he busted out a couple of unseen loads, and before I even knew it, he got up and left, the imprint of his sweaty ass left on the wooden bench. Quick and easy. No fuss.
I leaned back against the toasty planks, stared at the ceiling, and smiled. It was quick. Carnal. Just two guys whippin' out their cocks to show 'em off.
That was a good start for now.
It went like that for a few weeks. If I was lucky, I'd get to see a guy shoot his cum on a steam room floor. Or even better, I'd finish first and would bust a quick load on my belly. But pretty soon, I got tired of driving all the way out to North Austin. Plus, I felt Audrey's energy shift suspiciously after a few too many late evenings back. So I said, fuck it, I'll stay closer to home.
I started frequenting the gym at my alma mater, UT, just minutes away. Might as well enjoy the privileges of being a legendary alum and coach with a lifetime pass.
One morning, my older son Justin reached out and asked to spend some together alone, so we could talk. Trouble in paradise, I assumed. He and his wife Vanessa have been on the rocks lately, under all the stress that comes with having three kids. I suggested we get a workout in and grab some lunch.
I parked in the garage under the student rec center and took the stairs instead of the elevator. The afternoon sun broiled the brick sidewalks of the UT Austin campus, and students in burnt-orange shirts drifted past with earbuds and smoothies.
The gym lobby smelled like sanitizer and espresso. A wall TV played NBA highlights on mute. Somewhere behind the counter, a blender roared.
Justin texted: “Parking. 2 min.” He came through the door a moment later.
My oldest boy Justin Harding still looked good at 40. Shoulders broad, baseball cap perched on his tousled bronze hair as always. His face, lightly freckled from days in the sun, was softened by days' old stubble. He was a former football star under my wing when I still coached high school. Still a solid build there, but you could tell the years had gotten to him.
“Coach,” he grinned, using his nickname for me, pulling me into a quick hug that still felt like a tackle.
“Hey, Justin,” I said, clapping his back.
He gave me a once-over. “Damn, Dad. You look good. Europe worked some magic.”
I punched his chest playfully.
We checked in and wandered toward the weight floor. A pop remix thumped somewhere overhead.
On the way in, an undergrad in a UT hoodie gave me a small wave.
“Hey, Coach Harding” he said with a nod, passing by.
“Man,” Justin said as we walked. “You’re still a legend.”
"I'm just a guy who stuck around long enough," I chuckled.
Justin and I started with squats, trading the bar back and forth, the comfortable silence of people who share blood and sweat but not too many words.
On my second set, Justin caught me watching the young lifters with perfect form and no patience.
“You miss coaching, don’t you?” he said.
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
We racked the bar, breathing hard. Between sets, he wiped his forehead and said, “So, I saw the Rome photos. You and Matt looked… fancy.”
“He made sure of it.”
“Yeah.” He fiddled with a plate, eyes low. “I always meant to do something like that for you. Take you somewhere. But, you know: things are not good with Vanessa, right now. And then life, bills, kids… ”
“I know,” I said, sitting up and seeing the guilt in his gaze. "And sure, it was a great trip. But you know I love our camping trips too, Justin." I squeezed his shoulder. "Spending all that time together as a family, stripping away all the luxuries."
"Yeah."
"Plus you gave me three grandkids. Remember when we thought Lucas got lost in the woods, but he was hiding in a tree, pigging out on marshmallows?"
That broke the tension. A smile broke out across Justin's weary face and he laughed from his gut.
“How’s he doing, by the way?” I asked. "Lucas."
Justin’s expression softened in a way I’d only seen when he talked about being a dad. “He’s… good. Confusing sometimes, but good. Almost as tall as me now. Still can’t keep his room clean. You know, typical.”
“Girls?” I asked, half-teasing.
He hesitated, loading another plate. “Kind of. Or… I don’t know. He’s been hanging out a ton with this guy in his class. Name’s Caleb. They post a lot of photos together.’” He paused. “He’s figuring things out, you know?”
I nodded slowly. “That’s what high school's for.”
“Yeah. I just… don’t always know what to say. I want to ask, but I don’t want to make it weird.”
“Ask anyway,” I said. "He'll be fine no matter what."
He studied me for a second, then grinned and bumped my shoulder with the barbell pad. “Look at you, Dad. Progressive now?”
“Careful,” I joked.
Between sets, we traded little updates. I avoided talking about Europe, and Lucas kept coming back into the conversation like a boomerang. Justin scrolled through his phone between presses, showing me a photo: Lucas on a climbing wall, arms stretched wide with chalk on his fingers. His face had lengthened, but the eyes were still the same bright blue from when he’d fall asleep in my lap during Saturday games.
“He’s looking at schools," Justin said. "We're visiting some next month. Says he wants out of Texas for a bit. I told him it’s not personal.”
“It’ll still feel personal. It was like that with Matt,” I said. “But it'll pass.”
Justin digested that in silence.
"You want to come over and say hi to everyone later?" Justin asked.
"Sure, that'd be nice."
Soon we wrapped up, wiping down our equipment. After grabbing our towels, we headed toward the locker room, Justin a few steps ahead of me.
* * *
The men's locker room was humming with showers and hair dryers. Justin and I targeted a row of lockers on the far end of the room. We each claimed a locker across from the other. Like old habit, we began stripping off our clothes to get ready for a sauna session.
Both shirtless and facing our lockers, I looked down at my feet and felt that familiar pull behind my chest. Something about that astringent mix of eucalyptus and disinfectant in the air brought me back to all my latest hookups there. A surge of adrenaline went straight to my groin.
Wonder how Justin compares to the other studs here, I thought. Or even how he compares to Matt.
And so I looked casually over my left shoulder to see what my straight boy Justin was working with now.
He stood with his back to me. He bent and lowered his 7-inch gym shorts, revealing a pair of royal blue boxer briefs, pulled tight against his globes. His back was as wide as it's always been. Still in good form. Clear and smooth, always naturally broader than Matt's. A little fullness around his waist, but it made him look strong and beefy.
At this point, I'd already dropped my gym shorts and briefs in one go. I stood there nude, almost daring Justin to turn around.
Just look at what your dad's working with, buddy, I thought. Matty already did.
My cock twitched with another surge of excitement.
Justin tossed his gym shorts into his locker. Sweat soaked down the seam of its crack.
He then wrapped one of the fluffy white towels around his waist. Only then did he drop his boxer briefs down to his ankles.
The towel dance? I thought. Really?
I didn't remember Justin ever being that shy in the high school locker room when he'd towel-whip his buddies, but maybe things change.
He bent forward again to remove his socks, and I hooked my own towel around my hips.
As Justin started rummaging through his locker, his towel unhooked at the front. It began slipping off.
Justin grabbed the left end of the towel immediately. But the other end fell around his hip, swiping right-to-left, undraping those firm asscheeks in one fluid motion.
Nice, buddy.
Still full and steely and sparsely hairy. Justin's dumper still had a good amount of that football heft keeping it perky. Definitely fuller than Matt's. Where Matt's was tight and lean like a swimmer, Justin's was round and meaty like a football player who plays hockey on the side. A light dusting of dirty blond fur peeked out of his crack and blossomed near his taint.
Justin chuckled nervously and readjusted his towel around his hips before turning to face me. I said nothing and slammed my locker door.
We ambled into the dry sauna, which was just big enough for four guys to lounge comfortably. When that earthy smell of cedar hit me, I felt every muscle loosen. Inside, it was dim and empty. We took the middle bench, bottles of water sweating beside us. For a minute, we just breathed.
“Lucas came here once,” Justin said suddenly, voice softer in the heat. “Told me he snuck into the campus gym with that buddy of his. Said it felt weird to be in the locker room.”
"Why's that?"
"I think he just wasn't used to being in a college setting yet. Loads of guys walking around buck-ass-naked. You know, this generation isn't used to it like we were."
"Shame," I said simply.
We fell silent again. The pop of the heating rocks cut through the quiet.
“So,” Justin said, picking a subject out of nowhere. “Uncle Patrick texted me about the camping trip.”
“Did he.” I took a sip of warm water.
He leaned his head back, eyes closed. “I think he's looking forward to being social again. He’s okay, right? Uncle Pat?”
“As okay as any of us,” I said. “He’s been through it. Divorce makes you live in your own bubble for a while.”
“Yeah.”
"Maybe I should pay him a visit," I thought out loud. "He might like the company."
Justin eventually checked the little wall clock. “Ten minutes.”
“Just a couple more,” I said.
We stayed. The air shimmered, and I could feel my pulse behind my eyelids. Justin leaned forward, elbows on knees, breathing steady, sweat running down the length of his nose. We listened to the soft clicks of the thermostat, and the wood creaked when we shifted.
"Welp," I said, clapping my thighs once. "What do ya say we hit the steam room, then head to your place?"
"Yeah, but let's hit the showers first," Justin said. "I'm ripe."
After leaving the sauna, I gestured to Justin where the showers were and followed closely behind him.
* * *
When we turned the corner into the narrow hallway leading to the showers, it hit me that Justin had never been down here before.
Which meant he had no idea the showers were communal.
Yeah, man. Just like in the old days. I loved that UT kept that setup.
The whoosh of water echoed ahead of us, bouncing off the tile. Some guy was already in there. Maybe two. That’d be a nice little surprise for my boy.
As we reached the end of the hallway, the room opened up into that familiar square space lined with old ivory tiles.
Justin stopped short, like he’d walked straight into a wall. Four showerheads, two on each side. Nothing between them but air.
The two on the right were taken by a pair of college hunks: one pale, one tan, both solidly built.
Justin froze there a second too long. I tapped his shoulder twice.
“Hang it up, sport,” I said, nodding at the hooks.
Without wasting a beat, I unfurled my towel and hung it on the closest hook. Without even looking at Justin, I walked ahead of him. I felt a rush through my chest, imagining him staring at his daddy's muscle ass peacocking in front of him.
Yeah, buddy. I still got it.
I took the shower in the back, turned it on, and let the hot water smack my shoulders. I glanced back at Justin, not saying a word, just giving him the nod.
He blinked once, and I saw it click in his eyes: Screw it.
He dropped his towel and tossed it onto the last hook like he was trying not to think too hard about it.
And there he was.
My big boy.
It had been a while since we bonded together like this.
An above-average penis on him. Maybe not as big as Matt's and mine at fullness. But nothing to be ashamed about. Reasonably girthy even flaccid. A natural bush. I could see that, unlike Matt, he didn't trim his inner thighs, so he was fairly furry from his dick down his legs.
Behind us, the two hunks kept talking, barely noticing. Justin walked over to the last showerhead beside me, trying to play it cool, but I could hear the slight shift in his breath as he stepped under the spray.
“Little nervous there, sport?” I muttered. “Thought your generation was used to this shit.”
Justin blushed as he flipped on the water.
“We are,” he smirked. “Just didn’t think it’d be here and now with you, Coach.”
“Eh, nothing we haven’t seen before.”
“That’s fair,” he said, then shot a quick look at my crotch like I wouldn’t catch it. Cute.
We showered in silence after that, just the echo of water and the low rumble of the other guys talking. We lifted our arms to scrub out the sweat. Pits musky in the steam.
Justin keeps it natural too. Full, dirty-blond bushes in his pits, clinging to his skin under the water.
I lathered up my cock and balls and felt the pressure rush down the length of my penis. Running my hands between my scrotum and thighs, I saw my whole package jostle around, gaining weight the more it was touched.
I turned slowly to rinse the suds off -- and sure, maybe a little slower than necessary to show off some more angles to my son.
Yeah. I’ll admit it. I liked showing off. Made me feel young again.
We shut off our showers at the same time and headed back to the towels. Justin walked ahead again, his back straight but his steps a touch too careful. Rivulets of water coursed down his back. Some sped over the curve of his prominent cheeks and dropped to the floor. Others buried themselves in his crevice in between.
We made our way to the center of the locker room like we were in no rush and slipped into the steam room. It was quiet. I closed the door behind us with a solid, heavy pull.
* * *
The eucalyptus hit harder in here, warm and sharp. The fog had thinned just enough to see the outlines of the room. I grabbed a spray bottle on the bench and doused the radiator, letting the hiss of steam curl around our ankles.
Justin sat at one end of the single bench. I dropped onto the other end, legs stretched out, leaning my shoulder into the wall.
Not long after, the door swung open, and a young man strutted in. When he sat down between Justin and me, I caught a closer look at his face.
My heart jumped.
I recognized him from a few weeks ago in this very steam room. We had jerked off together.
He was blond. He didn't have a hair on his body, from his neck on down to the towel around his waist. His pecs were outstanding. Not very full but enough muscle underneath to give some good lean definition. His nipples were small and tight. The steam already collected in droplets across his smooth chest.
I felt my cock inflating as my mind flashed back to seeing his college boy cock spurting a load up to his chest.
He gave me a knowing look, then turned to Justin to suss him out. Justin kept staring at the wall in front of him. Oblivious.
I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I weighed the decision in my mind.
Should I get up and leave? Should I ignore him so he won't start anything?
The blond stud just glanced at the ceiling, his head resting on the wall.
Then he tilted his head in my direction again, his expression pointed.
We doin' this shit or what? his eyes asked.
My heart in my throat -- without even thinking -- I nodded.
He spread open his towel, and his cock sprang up. With his right hand, he slapped the head of his penis on his left palm. Smack. Smack.
Justin jumped in his seat, speechless, his eyes wide open, staring at the college boy's dick.
I kept my eyes on the stud next to me and slowly unwrapped my towel. My own semi-hard cock was now reaching a good six inches.
"What the fuck," Justin muttered.
"Easy, Justin," I said. "This is just guy shit."
Justin did a double-take, as if it sounded familiar.
The blond perked up. "You guys know each other?" he said.
"Something like that," I interjected.
"Cool," he said simply.
He continued to stroke his dick, while I copied his rhythm. We continued silently as the seconds dragged on. Out of the corner of my eye, through the mist, I saw Justin's silhouette reach into his towel.
Justin's hand didn't move much at first. I gathered he was fingering the tip of his cock underneath the towel. Soon his hand was making broader motions, and I could tell his cock was now reaching full size.
Annoyed, the blond stud turned to Justin and quietly barked, "You gonna show or what?"
"It's OK, Justin," I whispered.
With both of our eyes on him, Justin peeled back the two ends of his towel and dropped them to his sides. There, straight at attention from his untrimmed bush, was my eldest boy's ramrod. I'd give it seven inches.
By now, the steam had cleared a tad. The humid air still clung to my skin, but the three of us could size each other up better.
Justin, the coed, and me -- all under the light of a single bulb -- began stroking with abandon.
My eyes darted from the blond boy's dick to Justin's. Another surge of pride. Justin and I outsized our middleman down there.
I reached out and grabbed the blond's cock at the base. He bit his lip. He turned to Justin and gave a curt nod. To my shock, Justin reached out and grabbed the stud's throbbing cockhead above my hand, while the stud put his hands behind his head.
I slid closer to the hunk, my shoulder grazing his armpit, and Justin followed suit. Dad-and-son service. Justin's and my hands now touching, we stroked the blond boy's silky cock together, avoiding each other's gaze.
Sooner than expected, he grunted a couple of times and blew his load then and there, pools of cum collecting in his tangled pubes.
Without a word, he stood up and left the steam room, the slam of the door echoing behind him, leaving us dumbfounded.
After a brief silence, the thermostat clicked once more, and the room began filling with steam. Justin's silhouette sat in the corner quietly. I gave a small cough.
"That fucker left me horny," I mumbled.
Justin laughed and whispered, "Same."
Looking back at him, I saw he had resumed stroking.
I slid across the tiled bench toward Justin and saw his face more clearly. Beads of sweat decorated his brow, and his dirty blond hair was plastered down. His hazel eyes looked up at me curiously, his thick lashes blinking nervously.
"What is it you said before, Dad?" he asked. "This is just guy shit?"
"Yeah," I smiled.
"Not the first time I've heard that."
"Look, we're men," I said, absentmindedly flicking my cock. "Sometimes we just gotta get our needs met." Then I hesitated before adding: "I found a map online to find other jerk buds. This is a big spot."
"No way."
I seized Justin's cock firmly. "You'd get some good attention," I said.
"Whoa, Dad--"
"That's a big ole dick, bud."
"...Yeah?"
"I'm kinda jealous of it," I lied. "Let's get you off."
Justin looked like he wanted to say something, then tilted his head back again and closed his eyes.
I took the chance to look down and really inspect what Justin was working with. He and Matt were circumcised, sure. I made sure of that. I didn't mind my own uncut cock, but I'd seen enough men in the locker rooms to know what's expected.
Justin's big, rosy head was throbbing above my left hand. His shaft had some decent girth, and some light green veins were more prominent when his dick was erect. I put my right hand to my mouth, spit up a thick wad of saliva, and dropped it onto his dickhead before coating it all.
My eldest boy. His cock was full and strong in my hands.
Still, I thought to myself, Matty's got him beat.
Justin huffed and puffed as I picked up the pace. His feet rested on their heels while his toes curled up tight.
Clenching his open towel with both hands, he looked nervously at the door. His chest rose and fell faster. Trimmed chest hair dusted his pecs and framed his large pink nipples.
"Fuck, I haven't cum in a while," he said.
"That's it, J.J.," I said, using a nickname I hadn't used in ages. "Good goin'. Show your dad all that spunk, boy."
"Oh fuck, Coach," he said with a whimper I didn't expect.
"Let's see how you made me a grandpa, buddy."
"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, eyes now wide at the fuckpiece between his legs.
"Nothing dad hasn't seen before, J.J."
A heavy exhale, and Justin thrusted his hips up, plunging his cock through my fist.
A couple jets of splooge arced up the mist and fell right on my chest. I chuckled with surprise.
I wiped my son's cum up with my right hand and flung it down to the puddled floor.
My mind came back down to earth, and I listened to the sounds around us: A bit of chatter elsewhere in the locker room. The hiss of the showers. A maintenance cart rattling over the tiles.
Justin drew a slow breath, eyes fixed somewhere past my shoulder. He still wasn’t looking at me.
“We should go,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant.
We wrapped our towels back around our hips. I flipped my cock up, pinned at the waist. It was still throbbing, but I'd take care of it later.
The moment felt fragile in a way I couldn’t quite name. We skipped a second shower, changed fast, and headed out into the brighter hallway.
* * *
We walked out of the gym a little quieter than when we came in.
In the plaza outside the rec center, Justin cleared his throat. “So… you still wanna come over? Say hi to everyone?”
“Sure,” I said, tentative. “If that’s all right.”
“Yeah. Why not.” He gave a shrug meant to look casual.
The earlier easy joking had evaporated, replaced by something we were both pretending wasn’t there. We decided I’d follow him home, and we split to our cars -- him toward his beat-up SUV, me toward my navy sedan.
The drive was short. A/C blasting, shirt still damp against my back. The hot afternoon sun blazed through the windshield.
Before I even pulled into the driveway behind him, I spotted Lucas on the front lawn.
My eldest grandson was flat on his back, their golden retriever Sunny sprawled across him like a furry blanket. Lucas was rubbing the dog’s belly in lazy circles, looking up at the sky.
He glanced up when he heard us drive in. His blond hair fell across his forehead in that floppy way I remembered from when he was smaller.
When we got out of our cars, Justin already had a rehearsed smile on. Lucas sat up, brushing grass off his elbows.
“Hey, Dad,” he called to Justin, pushing himself upright.
“Hey, bud. Grandpa’s here.” He motioned toward me.
Up close, Lucas looked older than the last time I’d seen him -- still gentle around the edges but taller.
“Hi, Grandpa,” he said, offering a quick hug.
"Hiya, sport," I said. "Where's your mom?"
"Oh, she took the girls shopping."
"Shopping again?" Justin said, with a hint of exasperation.
Lucas shrugged. “Yeah... Oh. Dad, Uncle Matt texted. He wants to know which weekend works for the Georgetown trip. The campus tour.”
Justin nodded. “We’ll check tonight.”
He gave Lucas a gentle nudge. “Go wash up, bud. I wanna talk to Grandpa.”
“Okay.” Lucas gave the dog a final scratch and skipped inside. The retriever scrambled after him, nails clicking on the pavement.
When the door closed behind them, the cicadas buzzed louder in the trees. A dog barked down the street.
Justin let out a breath. “He’s doing okay, I think. But I feel like I’m missing half of who he is lately."
"I think the camping trip this year will be good for us all then. Lucas loves those birthday getaways. Remember when your Uncle Patrick and I would take you boys back in the day?"
"Yeah... It'll be good for me to get away too, I reckon," he sighed. "Vanessa and I barely talk unless it’s schedules and school forms. And we’re not... connecting. At all.”
I waited.
“I mean. Not physically,” he said, voice low. “I’m not getting what I need. I don’t think she is either.”
I nodded, slow. “You’re stretched thin. I get it. You settled down early -- at what, 23? Remember Justin, I wasn't much older either when we had you. But it always works out. One way or another.”
He gave a small, grateful sound.
“Thanks for the hang today, Dad. Even if it got a little weird.”
“It's guy shit,” I murmured with a wink.
He started toward the house, paused like he was about to say something more, then let it go.
Back in my car, I caught a glimpse through the window as I buckled in: Justin leaning back on the couch, Lucas’s blond head disappearing down the hall with the dog darting at his heels.
Something in me tugged, faint and unfinished.
I pulled away from the curb, that feeling still in my chest, and turned the radio up.
I think I'll give Matt a call.
-- To be continued --
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