Christopher sat on the deck, head back, exhaling quietly into the night sky. Giving into nicotine had placated his nerves for the moment but other temptations were screaming in his veins. He was usually good at distracting himself. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could.
Josh watched from the steps. His own cravings were stirring. Not from the smell in the air, but from standing there watching his son hiding inside himself, from the memory of the funeral that morning, from knowing that he knew the young man for all of six months before it all came crashing down. It was too much and not enough and he wanted nothing more than to be back home. A beer in his hand, a girl in his lap, and the knowledge that a son existed something he could lock away in the back of his mind. But he was here, and so was Chris, and it was hard.