Lunch is a five minute alley walk away, and on a bright day like today with Axel next to me, I would have walked five hundred.

This building used to be an ice cream parlor, back when I lived here and my old home was still standing. We never visited but always drove past.

Now, it's a contemporary sports bar that specializes in pizza. Much newer, cleaner, and roomier than the burger joint the baseball people like.

"I think you're going to recognize someone here," Axel tells me as we both walk inside. My senses heighten immediately, scanning the faces for someone—anyone—familiar.

"Really?" I ask, nobody in particular striking my interest. We sit down at the rectangular bar that sits in the middle of the room, high tops surrounding it.

"Hey, Axel!" The bartender says cheerily, one hand in the air as a greeting. She makes her way over to us, a beat up gray rag draped over her narrow shoulder. She can't be more than a few years older than us. It's apparent in her split hair—one side jet black and the other baby pink.

"Claudia, this is Orion. He's visiting."

Axel turns and looks at me with a satisfied smile, his eyes glancing to catch Claudia's initial impression of me.

"Oh, visiting? Nice! I hope you like it here." She smiles and looks at Axel, possibly picking up on the way he's studying both of us.

"Actually, I grew up here. Moved out to California a few years ago and ended up in San Diego," I tell her.

"Nice!" She repeats. "Yeah, that's so cool."

The three of us exchange glances, an awkward silence filling the triangle we've created. Axel taps his fingers against the bar and looks at Claudia with eyes that say, "do something," while Claudia still holds a smile in my direction while staring at Axel. The whole thing is awkward and confusing.

"Wh— what is going on here?" I finally ask, my eyes bolting between the two of them.

Claudia bops up and down a few times like she suddenly has to pee really bad, making a soft squeaking noise.

"OkayIcan'tholditinanymore," she blurts in one quick string of words. "I know about you. Axel's told me everything."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Claudia!" Axel exclaims, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head a few times, hung in shame.

"I'm so sorry! You know I can't keep secrets!" Claudia sinks below the bar and then quickly comes back up, regret filling her face. "I tried to stay cool!"

"Everything?" I question, straining my neck.

"Yeah. Fuck. I guess mostly everything. Let's just say I did a lot of venting here over the years," Axel admits, stuck in the same position. "As recently as two days ago."

"So you probably hate my guts, too, right?" My question is directed at Claudia, a hint of anger bubbling in my throat.

It's not exactly because of Axel, it's because of everything. The way I chose to deal with the past. Sebastian flying home alone, me staying here, breaking up. Feelings towards Axel and how now everything is just a little bit more complicated. My siblings. My parents. My life.

"No! No, please! I don't hate anyone," Claudia tries to reassure me, her tone very genuine and convincing. I do believer her; she is clearly honest and just plain bad at lying. She throws her hands up in surrender.

"Axel," I begin, shifting to look at him. He turns to match my direction, ready to listen intently like a counselor before the session starts. "I really don't care. You're more than allowed to have friends and say whatever you want about me and what has happened in the past. It's human to vent."

"Let's just forget about it. I never said anything bad about you," Axel says, moving to face the bar again. Claudia pulls her lips in, locking them as to not say anything. She busies herself drying glasses a few steps down from us.

This alone shows me that maybe, just maybe, Axel has said something less than nice about me before. But I don't blame him—he has every right in the world to hate my guts and say anything and everything bad about me.

"Maybe this was a mistake," Axel says, "I was hoping this would be fun but now its the fucking opposite. I'm about ready to jump into that manhole out there." His arm gestures towards the front window where construction is taking place across the street.

"Nobody is jumping into any holes. Let's start over," Claudia says as she flips two glasses up onto the bar. She grabs a soda gun, filling the glasses with something bubbly. Then, she pours grenadine in each glass and finishes everything off with double shots of vodka. "Voilà! Nobody can be mad when they're drinking a dirty Shirley!"

Axel doesn't hesitate to grab his, taking a hearty swig. Just as he puts his glass down, a sturdy hand finds its way onto my shoulder. We look up at the same time and that's when I realize the other hand is touching his shoulder also.

"Son, look who you've brought!"

Mr. Fredericks is standing behind us. My face goes pale, every ounce of blood in my body draining into my toes and dissipating into thin air.

When I thought about seeing him again, it was something that felt right in my head, like a moment of confidence I didn't think through. But now seeing him in the flesh makes me more than nervous. Scared.

"Oh, wow. What a surprise," I choke, reaching for my drink.

"My dad owns this place. He makes all of the pizza," Axel says, eyes jumping between me and his father the same way they did when I met Claudia.

"Really?" I ask while swallowing my drink hard. This isn't the first time we've met, but it sure feels like it.

"Oh yeah," Mr. Fredericks pushes in, "A buddy of mine got me into making wood fired pizza. It's truly an art—a bit hard to perfect. I did it at home for a few years before finally opening this place last fall."

Axel nods in agreement. "So much pizza."

The two look at each other, and then back at me.

Part of me prays to whatever higher being that Mr. Fredericks doesn't bring up the subject of my brother, or my family, or anything. After all, I'm not sure how much he knows or remembers.

When my parents passed away, there wasn't any type of formal obituary that I wrote up or anything. I declined everything, too overwhelmed and shocked to do as little as shower for a few weeks after. I left everything in the hands of the lawyer.

"So, Orion, it's been a long time," Mr. Fredericks begins and I sigh internally. "I am so sorry to hear about your parents. Truly. How tragic. Your old home as well. Axel briefed me yesterday and I must say, I was ecstatic to hear you were alive and seemingly well."

His eyes travel to my ring finger before they meet mine again, giant blue blobs judging me like I'm about to get arrested next.

"Yes, I am here," I stifle, my famous last words this month. "I appreciate your condolences. It was very difficult, but I'm reaching the other side. This was one of my big steps—coming back home."

Axel is talking softly to Claudia now, letting his dad and me catch up, exactly what I don't want to be doing. I watch him whisper and lean in closer to the bar. Watching his mannerisms—the small things, like the way his triceps flex against his sleeve when he brings his drink to his lips.

"That's great. I've stepped away from the police to focus on this for a year and a half now. A big jump for me as well. Change can be hard, yes?" His eyes pierce through me, something unsettling radiating from his body language. Like maybe he knows more than I think, but yet, the information I've given Axel so far has been limited.

"Yes sir," I repeat, softly clearing my throat. "I'm looking forward to trying the pizza."

Mr. Fredericks smiles and finally breaks his eyes from me. What was he thinking? "Axel found this kid again, with the terrible family and drug-dealing brother I sent to juvenile detention. Hurray!"

"Of course. I'll make the special for you two, that sound good?" Mr. Fredericks says, now projecting his voice towards Axel. In one movement, he turns away from Claudia and looks up at his father, nodding.

"And Orion," he begins, louder and stern, "if you're going to date my son again, don't fucking disappear and shatter his heart."

Mr. Fredericks gives me some form of a grimace before he turns away, like the words were a knife he stabbed me with.

My mouth drops, letting it hang for a moment like this is a bad scene in a movie. I cover it with my hand, catching a glimpse of Claudia's uncomfortable stare and Axel's sudden shift. His lips are pressed together and his cheeks are red, not from blush, but anger. Everything about him is suddenly tense, and rightfully so.

"He had no fucking control. We weren't even dating," Axel spews at his father's back, standing up quickly from the barstool. He jabs his finger towards him but he doesn't turn around. Instead, he quickly disappears with the swing of the gray kitchen door.

Axel breathes heavily and I watch his shoulders bobbing.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles as he turns back to face me, placing a hand on the back of his head. His eyes nervously meet Claudia's, then mine, softening. "I am so fucking sorry. That was out of pocket."

"Axel, it's fine. Or, it's valid, I guess."

Axel shakes his head, now looking at me like I'm some sort of sad puppy that's been locked out in the rain. "You can't keep saying that. It's not fine—you don't deserve that. You're just going to keep taking punch after punch? For how long?"

I down another long swig, noticing Claudia has somehow disappeared, allowing us the privacy we're not getting in the middle of this restaurant. High top tables surround us, most of which are occupied and staring.

"I did something terrible. So yeah, I'm just going to keep taking it for as long as I need to. As long as it takes to make everything right with you."

Axel drops his arm and lets both hang loosely at his sides, sucking air in through his nose. "Don't do it for me though. Do it for yourself."

We stare at each other, eyes locked in a room sprinkled with strangers. We're front and center like this is theater hour and we've just completed the matinée performance. But my peripheral vision is blurred and all I see is the man in front of me. Something swells inside of my stomach, a mixed bag of emotions.

"You're still pissed at me?" I whisper, more of a statement than a question.

"One level down from pissed," he mumbles, unmoving. "But yeah."