Raising kids alone is like trying to juggle with one hand while riding a unicycle, impossible until suddenly it's not. Nearly two decades in and I'm still figuring it out day by day.

  "Shane, just one more. The lighting's perfect right now," I say, holding up my phone as my son shifts awkwardly on our front porch. The morning sun catches his profile just right, highlighting how much he's grown up. When did that happen?

  "Dad, we're going to be te," Shane protests, but he's smiling that patient smile of his. The one that reminds me so much of his mother it makes my chest ache.

  "Just stand by the door. First day of college deserves documentation." I tap the screen, capturing his reluctant pose. He's wearing a simple button-down I ironed st night, hair neatly combed the way he likes it. Not fshy, my boy, but put-together. Dignified.

  "Dad, come on," Diane sighs next to me, her tall frame casting a shadow across the porch. "Give me your phone. I'll take one of you two together."

  I hand it over gratefully. "Thank you, Diane."

  Diane takes the phone with the efficiency she applies to everything. At nineteen, she's already more organized than I've ever been. "Stand next to Shane, Dad. And try not to look like you're at a funeral."

  I ugh and move beside my son, putting my arm around his shoulders. He's still shorter than me, but not by much anymore.

  "Smile," Diane commands, and we obey as she clicks.

  "One more," she says, "and this time, Shane, try to look like you want to be there."

  "I do want to be there," Shane mumbles, but he straightens his posture and gives a more genuine smile.

  Click.

  "Perfect," Diane says, examining the photo with approval before handing my phone back.

  I clear my throat, the moment suddenly heavy with everything that needs saying. "Listen, Shane. Boston University is going to have a lot more women than you're used to at your high school."

  Shane rolls his eyes, the same expression he's been giving me since he was thirteen. "Dad, I know. You give me the same speech every time I leave the house."

  "Because it's a dangerous world we live in," I insist, hearing the worry creep into my voice. "The dynamics are... complicated. You need to be careful."

  "I know," Shane says, softer this time.

  Diane steps between us, her stance protective as always. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll keep an eye on him, just like always." She squares her shoulders, looking so much like her aunt Chloe it's almost uncanny. "You just make sure to take care of yourself, alright?"

  I pull her into a hug, feeling the solid strength in her frame. My little girl who's not so little anymore. "Thank you," I whisper against her hair.

  Shane joins the hug, his thin arms wrapping around both of us. "Alright, Dad. We'll be back before you know it."

  And then they're gone, piling into Diane's old Toyota Camry that she refuses to let me repce. The engine sputters twice before catching, and they're off down the street, Diane's careful driving a small comfort as they disappear around the corner.

  The house feels instantly emptier. I sink down onto the couch, the springs creaking in the sudden silence. Looking up at the ceiling, I let out a long breath.

  "I wish you were here, Macy," I say to the empty room. "You would've loved this moment."

  My eyes drift to the family photo on the mantel, the st one we took together. Shane was just a baby, Diane barely walking. Macy's smile looks so genuine there. I still can't reconcile it with what happened after.

  Eighteen years since I found her. Eighteen years of trying not to remember the blood, the gun still warm on the bedroom floor. Eighteen years of asking why and getting no answers.

  I shake my head, forcing the images away. Not today. Today is about new beginnings, not old endings. I'm about to make myself a cup of coffee when there's a knock at the door. Frowning, I check my watch.

  "It's not haircut time yet, is it?" I mutter to myself, heading over.

  When I pull open the door, I'm surprised to see Lara standing there, her red hair catching the morning light like a fme. My boss isn't exactly the type for house calls.

  "Sup," she says casually, leaning against my doorframe with that dangerous ease she carries everywhere.

  Despite everything I know about what Lara does when she's not managing the casino, I can't help but smile. She's always been kind to me, which is more than I can say for most of her associates.

  "Lara, hey... I'm not working till ter tonight, right?" A moment of panic hits me that maybe I've mixed up my schedule.

  "No, you're good," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "I just remembered your boy's first day of school was today. Thought I'd stop by."

  "Yeah, you just missed them. They left about ten minutes ago."

  "That's too bad." She actually looks disappointed, which is strange coming from a woman who terrifies most of Boston's underground. She reaches into her sleek suit pocket and pulls out an envelope. "Here."

  "What's this?" I take it cautiously.

  "Your bonus. Wanted to personally deliver it."

  I frown, confused. "I already got my bonus a couple months ago."

  Lara shrugs, her blue eyes gleaming with something I can't quite read. "Well, we decided since you've been with us so long, we wanted to help out. With your kid starting college and all."

  I open the envelope and nearly choke when I see the check inside. Thirty thousand dolrs. My hands actually tremble a little.

  "Lara, I can't accept this."

  She cocks an eyebrow, her expression shifting to something more familiar, the look she gives when she's not used to being refused. "Ahh, come on Willy. You're the best whore we've got."

  I chuckle despite myself. Leave it to Lara to reduce my job as the casino's high-end escort to its bare bones. "Still... it's too much."

  "Give it a rest," she says, softer now. "You've overlooked a lot for us. Just take it."

  There's a weight to her words that makes me pause. "Is this dirty money?" I have to ask. I've been careful all these years, making sure nothing I bring home to my kids could ever be traced back to the darker side of Lara's business.

  Lara rolls her eyes and ughs, that unsettling cackle that makes grown men at the casino shrink into themselves. "Will, I would never give you any of that dirty stuff. What kind of boss do you think I am?"

  I hesitate, but only for a second. Paying for BU for two kids isn’t cheap.

  "Thank you," I say finally, folding the check and slipping it into my pocket. The weight of it feels both reassuring and dangerous at the same time. "So, where are you off to now?"

  Lara checks her watch. "Gotta go grab my niece. She’s my number two now."

  "Oh?" This is news to me. "Is she nice?"

  The scoff Lara lets out is answer enough, but she eborates anyway. "No, but she is family." She shrugs as if that expins everything, and in her world, it probably does.

  "Oh, that's too bad," I say, trying to imagine what kind of woman could be reted to Lara and still be considered not nice by her standards. The thought is mildly terrifying.

  "Anyways," she continues, already turning to leave, "don't forget your favorite client is coming tonight. The Boderna Queen."

  My heart rate soars at the thought of Ms. Bckwood. The money's good, but the evening is always... intense.

  "See you ter," I call after Lara as she strides down my walkway, her red hair bouncing with each confident step.

  Once she's gone, I close the door and lean against it, exhaling slowly. The house feels even emptier now. I pull out the check and stare at it again, wondering not for the first time what my te wife would think of how I provide for our children.

  "Well… Work is work…"

  Astrolust