Nate sweeps his hand along the clean counter. “Table’s set,” he says. “You want me to go get the kids?”

His partner gingerly sets a pan of grilled vegetables onto an oven mitt sitting on the counter. “In a second,” Ava says. “Milo still has a couple more minutes left of guitar lessons, but you can go wake Audrey up now.” They chuckle as Nate wraps his arms around their shoulders. “Never in my life did I think you’d say ‘yes’ to an eight year-old doing online guitar lessons.”

“Never in my life did I think I’d have an eight year-old to provide with online guitar lessons,” he responds, kissing Ava on the forehead. “But it’s funny how things work.”

Quiet, suburban life was never really the goal for Nate— satisfaction was. No matter where he ended up, all he wanted was to create the loving family he lacked in his own youth. A partner, a daughter, a son, a place to call home— that’s all he could have ever asked for. Although he’s no longer a field agent and his work is less frequent, he’s glad that his children have a father who puts compassion above all else.

The doorbell rings as Nate nears the hallway. He turns sharply and cracks the door open. It drifts over to the adjacent wall as his hand slips off the handle. An older man, brow furrowed slightly and hair greying with age, stands on the porch. His hands sit idly in his pockets as his gaze slowly meets his son’s. Ava peers around from the kitchen, asking who it is; although they’ve never seen Charles face-to-face, they hardly need a hint to know who this man is.

“I know this is unexpected, but I’m here with no ill will,” he says.

Nate lets out a gentle, bitter sigh. “How’d you get my address, Dad?”

“I asked your mother where to—“

“Mom hasn’t wanted anything to do with you for twenty-five years. Tell me the truth.”

Milo, with his scruffy hair and scraped knees, stands a few feet behind Nate. Charles eyes him curiously; for a second, he sees what his own son could’ve been. He sees a second chance. Nate was hardly a boy made in his father’s image, but Milo looks just like his father.

“Came to see the little ones,” he mutters. Milo smiles shyly, instinctively, before Ava ushers him into the kitchen.

Nate steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.” It’s been well over ten years since Nate last saw his father, and almost twenty since he last lived with him. Their last conversation was merely the tying of a loose end on Nate’s part.

“You seem so surprised to see me,” says Charles. “You’re the one who flew 3,000 miles to make a point first.”

“And I thought I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t gonna change my mind.”

“I know you’re not going to-- and that’s a consequence you’ll have to live with.”

“Consequence? Dad, this isn’t some petty decision like getting a tattoo or buying an expensive car-- this is my family. Something you lost the privilege of being part of.”

He turns up his nose. “Privilege? Awful selfish of you to deprive your children of grandparents.”

Nate leans against the bannister. The porch light flickers on beside him as the dark of the autumn evening slowly eats away at the sky. “Mom, her husband, and their daughter come and visit for Christmas. Leon drives into town, too. My stepsister has the sweetest son, just a few years younger than Milo. He’s always asking when his “other brother” is coming to visit. It’s made Ava and I entertain the thought of another kid. I don’t think I’m depriving them of anything.”

“I hope you enjoy the self-righteousness of taking away the one thing I have left.”

“How can you be a grandparent when you were never a parent to begin with?” Nate shouts. He lowers his voice again and steps further out into the driveway. He doesn’t want his kids to see him like this. “I have worked myself to the bone to get here. I have a house, a job, a partner-- a life that belongs to me. Milo and Audrey remind me that I can create what I never received. That I won’t become a shadow of you, and neither will they. I’m not chancing that.”

“I just want--”

“You want a legacy! You don’t give a damn about me or my kids. You want someone who remembers you fondly, and since your sons sure as hell don’t, mine is the next best option, huh?”

“They won’t come out a thing like you. I made you what you are. That’ll show eventually.”

Charles stands an inch from his son’s face, expecting him to grab him by the wrist and kick him down the driveway. Nate huffs out a short breath of air. “Get in your car and go.”

“What?”

“Get in your damn car and leave before I call the cops.”

“I thought you didn’t like the feds. You think they do more hurt than help.”

Nate grits his teeth, but keeps his composure. “Maybe you deserve it.”

When Nate walks back into the house, he gives Ava a gentle, reassuring nod. Audrey comes running clumsily up to him.

"Who was that?" Milo asks. Nate sighs. Honesty was never his father's strong suit, but it's always been his. He picks up Audrey, propping her against his broad shoulder.

"You know how you outgrow clothes?" he begins. "Sometimes, we outgrow people. And sometimes, it's because they're hurting us. They're no good for us, so we have to let them go. It's not always easy. Long before you guys were born, I had to let go of someone who cared a lot about me-- but also hurt me. He made me think hurting other people was okay, too."

"But what happens when they don't want to let you go?"

"That's their business." He ruffles Milo's hair and sets his plate down in front of him. He squeezes his daughter's nose, causing her to giggle obnoxiously as he places her into her chair. "Besides," he says, "Why would I want to worry about something I've already let go, when what I've grabbed onto is more wonderful than I could've imagined?"