Like the light was finding its own and gathering together, creating something so brilliant he could hardly bear to look at it straight on.

Sammy.

Something shifted in him, something deep, and he couldn’t find a name for it. Except all of a sudden a whole bunch of truths tumbled in on him. That in a couple of years he would be watching his child run around at this very same barbecue. That he would be about his father’s age when he’d died.

It was such a strange milestone to move toward. A part of life that his dad hadn’t even lived.

And he would be a father.

The idea of leaving his son behind, his son or daughter, to face the kinds of things that Ryder and the rest of them had had to face alone...

The kid was barely bigger than a lima bean at this point and he was already making him insane. Making him think about things that just about brought him to his knees.

Dammit, this was tough stuff. And he couldn’t quite find the words to say why.

He never had to find the words for his particular pain; all he had to do was figure out how to shove it down and deal with it. Because he was the oldest. So there was no one for him to talk to. He hoped that they had talked to each other. That Colt and Jake had found ways to give their grief a language. That Iris and Pansy and Rose had bonded with each other. And he had Sammy. Beautiful and bright, and he hadn’t wanted to put any of his pain onto her. He had only wanted to enjoy her particular brand of beauty. Her particular brand of brightness. That had been everything he wanted.

She saw him, and smiled.

“You look better,” he said, moving to close the distance between them.

“I feel better,” she said. “But then, this is a good time for me. And sometime in the early hours my enjoyment of this barbecue will rebound on me. I feel like our child hates me already.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Ryder said, not even sure why he was engaging in this strange line of conversation.

“He?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m just saying. You’re talking like you know its emotions. Me knowing its gender seems weirder?”

She laughed. “Not weirder. But maybe we’re both a little bit weird.” She shook her head. “Is this what it does to you?”

“I guess so,” he said. “I don’t have another frame of reference.”

There was a strange threat of awkwardness between them, and that was never the case for him and Sammy. Because Sammy was never awkward. And he had never taken her for someone who held things back, but he could feel it now. Feel himself doing it, and her doing it in response. Could feel a strange threat of tension between them that just wasn’t them. Not usually. Not them.