The house glows like a lighthouse through the dark as I pull into the driveway, my whole body aching from Stephanie's particur brand of affection. Eleven o'clock on a Monday night. Way ter than I wanted to be coming home on Shane's first day of college, but when Stephanie Bckwood decides she wants overtime, you give her overtime. The bills don't pay themselves.

  I take a moment in the car, studying my reflection in the rearview mirror. No visible marks, thank God. The colr left a slight redness around my neck, but nothing my kids would notice. I tug my shirt colr higher just to be safe.

  After a shower at the casino that was hot enough to scald away the evening's activities, I feel almost human again. My muscles protest as I grab my bag from the passenger seat and head toward the front door. The night air has a slight chill that hints at the approaching fall, and I find myself wondering if Shane remembered to bring a jacket to css today.

  I unlock the door as quietly as possible, expecting a dark, silent house. Instead, the TV flickers in the living room, casting blue shadows across the walls. I step inside, keys jingling in my hand.

  "Hey, Dad!" Diane calls from the couch, not taking her eyes off the screen.

  "Welcome home," Shane adds, gncing up with a small smile.

  My heart melts like it always does when my kids are unexpectedly sweet. They're both sprawled across the living room furniture, still dressed in their day clothes, a half-empty pizza box on the coffee table between them.

  "Hey, you two," I say, dropping my bag by the door. "Didn't expect to find you both still up."

  Diane shrugs, her eyes fixed on whatever reality show they're watching. "Wasn’t tired. First day jitters, I guess."

  "How'd it go?"

  I head straight for the pizza box and grab a slice, not bothering with a pte. The pepperoni and cheese are still warm enough that the cheese stretches as I lift it.

  "Dad, the campus is so nice," Shane says, his eyes lighting up in a way I haven't seen in months. "The library has these huge windows overlooking the quad, and there's this coffee shop where everyone hangs out between csses."

  I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. It's good to see him excited about something.

  "He wouldn't shut up about it the whole ride home," Diane adds with an eye-roll, but I catch the fondness in her voice. "Practically bouncing in his seat when he was showing me around."

  "I was not," Shane protests, though his cheeks flush slightly.

  I settle into the single armchair across from them, trying not to wince as my sore muscles make contact with the cushion. "So the csses were good? You both feeling okay about the workload?"

  "It's only the first day, Dad," Diane says, reaching for another slice. "But yeah, my professors seem decent. Except for Business Ethics. That one's gonna be a snoozer."

  "Mine were great," Shane chimes in. "Especially Introduction to Literature. The professor quoted entire passages from memory, it was incredible."

  I take a bite of pizza, savoring the normalcy of this moment. My kids, safe at home, talking about ordinary college things.

  "So," I say, trying to sound casual, "any interesting people in your csses? Meet any girls you like yet, Shane?"

  "Dad!" Shane practically yelps. "No! God, why would you even ask that?"

  Diane snorts into her pizza slice, clearly enjoying her brother's discomfort.

  "Hey, I'm just asking," I say, raising my hands in surrender. "College is a pce to make connections, that's all. If you do meet someone, just be careful, okay? That's all I'm saying."

  "Yeah, yeah," Shane mumbles, suddenly finding the pattern on the couch cushion fascinating. "Can we please talk about literally anything else?"

  "Sure thing, buddy," I say, taking another bite of pizza to hide my smile. "What else do you want to talk about?"

  Shane takes a moment, clearly trying to steer the conversation as far away from his love life as possible. "How was work tonight? You got home pretty te."

  I swallow hard, the pizza suddenly feeling like sandpaper in my throat. "Oh, you know. Just dealing cards for the regurs. Monday nights can get busy when the high rollers are in town."

  Shane nods, accepting my answer without question. Diane, on the other hand, gives me that look, the one that says she knows exactly what "dealing cards" really means. She learned the truth about two years ago when her friend's mother, who frequents the casino, recognized me at a school event and made some comments that were a bit too specific for comfort.

  After that, I had to come clean with her, at least partially. She knows I escort at the casino, but I've spared her the more intimate details. In this world, it's not a profession that carries much stigma, plenty of men do it to make ends meet, but I'd rather Shane remain in the dark.

  The thought of my son following in my footsteps makes my blood run cold. Over my dead body will he ever have to sell himself the way I do. That's why I work as hard as I do, why I take clients like Stephanie. So my kids can have options I never had.

  "Anyone interesting tonight?" Diane asks, her tone deliberately casual but her eyes sharp.

  "The usual crowd," I say, matching her tone. This is our dance, she asks vague questions, I give vague answers, and we both pretend Shane isn't sitting right there. "Nothing worth reporting."

  Shane stretches his arms above his head, his mouth opening in a massive yawn that he doesn't even try to hide. "I think I'm going to bed," he announces, pushing himself up from the couch. "Early css tomorrow."

  He shuffles over to where I'm sitting and bends down for a hug. I wrap my arms around him.

  "Night, Dad," he says, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

  "Goodnight, buddy. Sleep well." I give him an extra squeeze before letting go. "Proud of you."

  He heads down the hallway. I watch him until he disappears into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

  Diane waits until we hear his bedroom door close before she turns to me, her expression serious. "Dad, he's a freshman in college now."

  "I'm aware," I say, picking at a loose thread on the armchair. "What's your point?"

  "My point is, don't you think it's time to tell him the truth? About what you really do at the casino?"

  I shake my head firmly. "I'll tell him once he graduates. Not before."

  Diane shifts on the couch, leaning forward. "But don't you..." she hesitates, lowering her voice even though Shane's room is at the other end of the house. "Don't you ever, you know, with college students?"

  The question hits me like a punch to the gut. "Most of them can't afford me," I say, trying to keep my tone light.

  "But BU has a lot of rich kids," she persists, her eyes searching my face. There's no judgment there, just worry. "What if he finds out from someone else?"

  "He won't."

  "Dad, he worships the ground you walk on," she says softly. "He won't care what you do for a living. He thinks the world of you."

  "That's exactly the problem," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "What if he thinks it's a good job because of that? What if he decides to follow in my footsteps because he thinks it's... I don't know, gmorous or something?"

  Diane looks at me for a long moment. "Is that what this is about? You think Shane would want to become an escort?"

  "I never wanted this job, Diane. After your mom died..." I trail off, the memories still painful after all these years. "I did what I had to do. And even then I got lucky. But Shane has options. You both do. That's why I've worked so hard."

  "Dad, if you tell Shane you don't want him following in your footsteps, he'll listen to you."

  "I believe you, but..." I rub my hand across my face, feeling the day's exhaustion settle deep in my bones. "I don't know if I'm ready for that conversation yet."

  Diane nods, her expression softening. "I understand, Dad. I'm not going to force you to tell him."

  "Remember how you reacted when you found out?" I say quietly, raising an eyebrow at her.

  She snorts, a small smile pying at her lips. "I was struggling in French css and you had said before, you thought my french teacher was hot…"

  I try not to ugh at the memory. "You can't just ask your dad to sleep with your teachers to help your grades."

  Diane rolls her eyes. "I don't know, Dad. You said no, but I miraculously passed with a B+..."

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "That was on your own merits," I tell her firmly.

  It's a bald-faced lie. Ms. Du Bois had been quite... accommodating once I expined my daughter's struggles with French. Three private meetings with her after hours, and suddenly Diane's grade had shot up from a D to a B+. It wasn't my proudest moment as a father, but desperate times and all that.

  And if I'm being completely honest with myself, Ms. Du Bois had been... well, attractive isn't quite strong enough a word. Those gsses she wore, the way she'd let her hair down when we were alone...

  Diane gets up from the couch with a knowing grin. "Yeah, yeah, Dad. If I need help, I'll come running this year."

  A fsh of panic shoots through me. "Do you need a tutor? I can find you one."

  "Dad, it's day one," she says, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine."

  She stretches, reminding me so much of her mother it makes my chest ache.

  "I'm going to bed," she announces.

  "Goodnight, Diane," I call after her.

  "Night, Dad," she replies, her voice already fading as she disappears down the hall.

  I sit alone in the living room, the TV still flickering silently in the background. The house feels different now. Not empty, exactly, but changing. My kids are growing up, moving forward with their lives. And I'm still here. Stagnating.