Vincent Kinsington

Chet and I were in Nate's car as it sped down the freeway. Chet was driving. I had never seen him drive before even though I knew he could. I found myself watching him. I tried not to. I didn't want to make him nervous.

His handsome brown eyes flicked to me before going back to the road. "Why do you keep staring at me?" he asked.

"You're hot when you drive," I said.

The corner of his lips turned up into a smirk. "Does everything I do turn you on? Driving, brushing my teeth..."

"...playing soccer," I added. "Yes. Everything you do turns me on."

His eyes darted to me again before going back to the road. He shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. His right hand left the steering wheel and reached out for mine. I entwined our fingers.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

My fingers tightened around his and I looked out at the leafless trees mingled with pine trees along the side of the freeway.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," I said.

"You're not supposed to feel a certain way," he said. "You just feel what you feel."

I paused as I evaluated myself. "I guess I'm nervous," I said. "But also excited and scared at the same time."

His hand squeezed mine. And much too soon we were pulling off the freeway and into the diner parking lot where Dean had told us to meet him. We were ten minutes early. I looked around the parking lot as if I could recognize Dean's car, but I quickly realized that was silly. I had no idea what Dean was like. I had no idea what car he drove. He probably wasn't even there yet seeing how early we were.

"Are you ready?" Chet asked me. The car was turned off. His hand was on the door handle just waiting for me.

"No," I said, but I opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. At least there wasn't any snow at the moment.

Chet followed me and we stepped inside the diner.

"Two of you today?" the hostess asked us. She was already grabbing menus.

"There will be three of us," Chet spoke when I couldn't find my voice. "The other one is coming."

She grabbed another menu and led us to a booth. Chet slid in first and I sat next to him. The booth was next to a large window that looked directly out to the parking lot and the freeway beyond it.

I scanned the restaurant just to make sure I didn't see another pair of golden eyes. I didn't.

The waitress came up to us and said, "Can I get you two something to drink while you wait for the other person to join you?"

"Lemonade for me," Chet said.

"Me too," I said. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," she said, but then she stood there frozen when she saw my eyes. "I've only seen eyes like yours on one other person," she said.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything.

"Sarah," the waitress called over the hostess and I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

"Doesn't his eyes look like Dean's?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, "I didn't notice before. Are you related to him? Cousins maybe?"

My throat tightened and I swallowed hard. My heart beat rapidly against my ribs.

"Are you Jennifer's boy?" our waitress asked.

I felt Chet's eyes on me, but I couldn't look at him. My fingers began to tremble. Chet reached under the table and grabbed my hand.

"Oh," the hostess said with sudden understanding and then she said harshly under her breath to the waitress, "It's none of our business," and ushered the waitress away. It was a small town. The waitress was about my mom's age. Maybe a little younger. Why had it never occurred to me before that the people here might know my mom as well as Dean? My mom had left this town long ago, but Dean was still living here. I didn't know if he had moved away and came back or if he had always been here. I guessed the later with how those two women seemed so familiar with him.

"Are you okay?" Chet asked me. I nodded, but didn't know if I really was. They said my mother's name which meant if they put two and two together then they would know she had an affair. I didn't want to be there anymore.

"Can we leave?" I asked.

"Now?"

I nodded.

"If that's what you want," Chet said.

I started to slide out of the booth when a loud engine roared and a motorcycle drove up. The driver parked it just outside the window we were at. People didn't usually drive their motorcycles in the winter. I didn't know a lot about motorcycles, but this one was black and silver and beautiful. The man turned off the engine and swung his long leg over the seat. He was tall and toned. He wore dark jeans and a black, leather jacket. He wore a black helmet with the visor down so I couldn't see his face, but I knew. It was strange to feel this connection with someone I had never met and hadn't even seen his face, but it was there. My being froze and I could no longer leave that booth.

He took off his helmet and put it on the handlebar. He ran a hand through his chestnut hair and then his golden eyes met mine through the window. I forgot to breathe. A small smile touched his lips and then he broke eye contact as his long strides took him to the door.

"His eyes weren't the only thing you inherited," Chet said.

"What else?" I asked.

"Your jawline."

He ran his forefinger over my jaw. His touch calmed me tremendously and I smiled at him.

"Hi, Dean," the hostess said.

"Hi, Sarah," Dean said, but didn't look at her as he headed straight for our table. He slid in across from us, but his eyes never left mine. I swallowed.

"You want your usual?" the waitress asked Dean.

"Yeah," he said and handed her the menu without taking his eyes from me.

"What about you two?" the waitress asked me and Chet.

I hadn't looked at the menu yet. Chet had, but I wasn't sure if he had decided on anything before he closed the menu when I said I wanted to leave.

"What's your usual?" I asked Dean.

"Cheeseburger and fries," he said.

"I'll have the same," I said. It was strange looking at golden eyes that weren't my own.

"Me too," Chet said. He passed his menu and mine to the waitress. She left us.

"What should I call you?" I hadn't meant to ask it out loud, but it was out in the open before I could take it back.

"Dean is fine," he said.

There was a small tendril of disappointment in my chest that I didn't understand. It wasn't like I wanted to call him dad. What else could I call him but Dean?

His eyes finally left me and landed on Chet. "Dean," he extended a hand across the table.

Chet shook it. "Chet," he said.

Dean's eyes landed back on me. "And what should I call you? Do you want me to call you Vincent."

"That or Vinny," I said.

He smiled. "Vinny it is then."

The waitress came back with our drinks. She put a lemonade in front of me and one in front of Chet. She put a glass of cola in front of Dean.

"I couldn't help but notice that this kid looks a lot like Jen," she said to Dean.

Hi sighed. "She hates being called that. And don't go spreading gossip, Heather."

My mom hated being called Jen? I supposed it made sense. I never heard anyone call her Jen.

"I don't spread gossip," Heather said sounding offended.

"Please," Dean said, "you're the biggest gossip in town, but this time, please mind your own business."

She huffed, but left us without saying anything else.

"Sorry," Dean said to me. "It was supposed to be her day off. I would have suggested we meet somewhere else if I had known."

"It's okay," I said.

"Really?" he asked. "Because you do look a lot like Jennifer except for your eyes. People are going to say things."

I shrugged. "I'm not from here. It bothers me more that they might say mean things about my mom more than whatever they might say about me."

"Hunh," he said, but I didn't know what that was supposed to mean. He took several swallows of the cola before he sat back and put one arm over the back of the booth's bench. "So, how long have you two been dating?"

"Since October," I said.

He nodded and sat forward once again. "And you were kicked out just because you wouldn't breakup with him?"

I nodded.

"I didn't think she was homophobic," Dean said.

I didn't have to ask him to clarify. I knew he was talking about my mom. "I think if Chet came from a rich family, she wouldn't have been opposed to it. My dad would have though."

"Ah. I see," he said. "Jennifer always did care more about wealth than anything else." He stared out the window. "And Greg always was a bastard." His eyes flashed back to me. "Sorry," he said. "I probably shouldn't talk about your parents that way."

"It's okay," I said, but I wasn't sure if it was. It was a strange conflict because Dean really wasn't wrong and my family had disowned me simply because I loved a man. But still, they raised me.

There was a long pause. I thought frantically of something to ask him, but my mind went blank. I looked to Chet for help. He was being unusually quiet. He just squeezed my hand under the table.

"What are you studying at the university?" Dean asked me.

"Entrepreneurship."

"Do you have plans for when you graduate?"

My plan had been to join the family business, but that wasn't going to happen now. "Start my own business I guess," I said. "I haven't figured out what yet."

"What about you?" he asked Chet. "What are you studying?"

"Sports Management," my boyfriend said with that familiar excitement he always got when he spoke about soccer. "I want to coach college soccer and then MLS and then maybe...Nevermind."

"You can tell me," Dean said.

"I tend to talk too much," Chet said. "Especially when it comes to soccer."

Dean smiled. "I really don't mind. I want to hear it."

And with that my heart warmed and turned to my biological dad. It was strange how I could love him already and not just that, but love him more than the dad that had raised me. Guilt came with that realization. I was a mess of conflicting emotions.

Our food was served while Chet talked about his plans to play in the MLS, get his masters and then coach. Dean never gave any indication that he was bored with what my boyfriend had to say.

There was a silence when Chet finished and while we ate. Then Dean asked me, "They really never said anything about me?"

"No," I said.

"But you knew I existed?"

"Not when I was little. I always knew I was different. I knew I didn't have my father's eyes and that he didn't like me for that. They never told me I had a different biological father. Other kids who heard it from their parents made fun of me for it. And I did learn my mom had been dating two men before she got married. I had been told she had grown up with one of them. And then it all made sense. Once I knew, it just became an unspoken thing in my family that everyone knew, but we weren't supposed to talk about. Mom would tell me I had to be careful and obedient and to never make my dad or grandma mad or we would be kicked out."

"So you don't know I took them to court when you were little to get custody of you?"

Goosebumps formed on my arms as a tingle ran down my spine and through my limbs. "No," it came out a whisper. In a stronger voice I said, "I just assumed you didn't want to see me."

His face reddened and a strange mix of sorrow and anger ran through his eyes. Then he sighed and his face returned to its normal color. "I didn't know you were mine at first," he said. "It was only when I heard rumors of a toddler with golden eyes that I began to suspect. And Jennifer stopped contacting me completely. There had been short periods of time when she would cut contact with me, but she would always eventually reach out to me again. This time she didn't. Greg wouldn't let me get close to you to confirm it. That was when I thought I would try to get custody of you. I didn't think I would win. I didn't think they mistreated you or anything. I just wanted a judge to say I could see you from time to time. But your family has a lot of money and I don't. I lost before I even began, but I tried. I tried numerous times over the years to see you, but they would never bend. I sent you birthday cards every year, but I'm guessing you never got them."

"No," I said. "I didn't."

"Why would you keep seeing her once she got married?" Chet asked. Then he said, "Sorry. I probably shouldn't have asked. I just can't figure it out. Nevermind me. I tend to be too curious and I tend to ramble."

"It's alright," Dean assured him. "I tried to let her go when she got married, but it's hard when you have a history as deep as we did. I could never tell her no when she was sad even when we were little. She would sneak out of her trailer and come to mine. She would knock on my window until I sneaked by my passed out parents and came outside. We would go to the little stream that runs through the trailer park to wash our bruises and cuts."

"Why were you hurt?" I asked.

He paused and studied me. "She really didn't tell you anything," he said.

"No."

He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. "I don't know if I should tell you," he said. "Do you want to know? About your mom's past?"

I took a moment to think about it even though I knew what the answer was. "Yes."

He nodded. "The trailer park we lived in was filled with drug addicts and alcoholics. Our parents weren't any different. My parents beat me. Her parents beat her."

I swallowed hard. The food I had just eaten turned in my stomach.

"We used to talk about how we would leave this place as soon as we turned eighteen. She worked all through high school while studying hard to get into a good university. She saved up her money. She was smart and determined. I wasn't. She was accepted into a prestigious university and she left. She didn't tell her parents where she was going. She never called them once she left. It was harder for me to leave. I have a little brother and I didn't want to leave him alone with our parents. She always said if she found a way she would never be poor again. She excused her parent's behavior on their impoverished state. She thought if they weren't poor that they wouldn't beat her or get drunk.

"We were still technically dating even though we didn't see each other often. She refused to come back to this town so the only time we did see each other was when I drove to see her.

"She told me when she started dating Greg. He and I even met a few times. When I found out how rich he was, I knew I had already lost, but still she would contact me and I would drive up every time to see her. Even after she was married."

"Didn't you ever try to date anyone else?" Chet asked.

I had wondered if he had a family of his own now, but there wasn't a ring on his finger. I was glad Chet had asked the question. It was one I wouldn't have been able to voice on my own, but one I wanted to know the answer to.

"There have been a few people here and there," he said with a shrug, "but no one like her. No one serious."

"What about your little brother?" I asked. I had an uncle I didn't know I had.

"He turned out like our parents," he said. "He is currently in prison."

"Sounds like my older brother," Chet said, "except our parents were nice."

"It's hard," Dean said, "when you only want the best for them, but they keep destroying themselves over and over again and they'd destroy you too if you let them."

"Yes," Chet said. Dean smiled kindly at him.

"What about your parents?" I asked Dean.

"They both ODed several years ago," he said. "Do you want to meet Jennifer's parents? They are horrible people, but I can take you to them if you want to see where your mom grew up."

"They are still alive?" I asked shocked.

"Yes," he said. "Your mom never mentioned them?"

"She said they were dead," I said.

Dean nodded. "I can understand why she said that. So. Do you want to meet them?"