The bus took him on its circuitous route as Stacy stared unseeing out of the window. He retraced the same route he took every morning during the week, but the bus didn’t stop at Washington today and Stacy kept his gaze on the glass so he wouldn’t have to see the high school down the street.
A kid, he thought randomly. So the guy stayed after with him. So they ate lunch together, laughed and talked and flirted until Stacy thought he’d come sometimes just thinking about him. So the f**k what?
He had a son. Darian—married? God. Stacy had been so sure…
Fuck it. Like misted rain, familiar anger descended over him, prickling his skin, his eyes. When he blinked, his vision blurred so he rubbed the back of his hand across his face to clear it. His mind tried to return to the scene in the parkin
