Sunday Morning
The buzzing on the nightstand pulled Dan out of sleep like a hand tugging him to the surface. Not loud, just persistent. Insistent.
He fumbled for the phone, blinking against the early light.
Liv: “Call me when you wake up. Nothing dangerous, but we need to talk.”
Dan exhaled through his nose.
We need to talk. Not a phrase Liv used lightly. Not even when they were married.
If we weren’t already divorced, I’d think this was a breakup call, he thought, dropping the phone back onto the table.
He glanced at the clock.
7:23. On a Sunday.
He groaned, scrubbed a hand over his face, and forced himself upright. His body protested like he was twice his age. Downstairs, the kitchen was cold and too quiet. The kind of quiet that still felt unfamiliar, even months after the divorce.
He started the coffee maker on autopilot, showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, and returned just as the coffee finished brewing. He poured a mug and stepped to the window.
The yard looked the same as always but it didn’t feel the same. Leaves scattered across the lawn in restless spirals. A garden waiting for someone to care about it.
He took a sip and called Liv.
She answered on the second ring.
“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter, “it’s comforting to see you’re still the one making sure I get up on Sunday mornings.”
He blew on his coffee, pleased with himself.
Liv didn’t laugh. Not even a small exhale.
Dan straightened.
“What is it? Did something happen?”
“Where did Leon say he was staying last night?” Liv asked, her voice steady but tight.
“With you,” Dan said immediately. “Liv…what’s going on?”
She took a breath, the kind that made Dan’s stomach drop.
“He told me he was staying with you,” she said. “And he told you he was staying here. But he wasn’t with either of us.”
Dan froze.
“What?”
“He went to a party,” Liv said. “And John saw him going into a club he shouldn’t even be allowed into.”
“John?” Dan blinked. “Who’s John?”
“The contractor fixing the house.”
“Right. Okay. And?”
“He went in after Leon. Got him out. Drove him home.”
Dan didn’t hear the rest. He was already moving, coffee abandoned, jacket half on, half off, keys in hand.
“I’m coming,” he said, breathless.
“Dan…”
But he’d already hung up.
It took less than ten minutes to drive over, but his pulse climbed with every turn. He parked crookedly on the driveway and was out of the car before the engine stopped.
Liv opened the door before he could knock.
She looked tired. Not angry. Not frantic. Just…worn.
Dan kissed her cheek, a reflex he hadn’t shaken yet, and stepped inside.
“Okay,” he said. “Tell me everything. Where’s Leon?”
“First,” Liv said, touching his arm, “you’re having a cup of coffee. I doubt you’ve had any.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she gave him that look, the one that had always shut him up.
“Leon’s asleep,” she added. “Come sit.”
Dan took the coffee but didn’t sit. He paced in front of the sofa, shoulders tight, mug clutched in both hands.
“Dan,” Liv said, rubbing her temple, “please sit down. You’re making me seasick.”
He dropped onto the sofa beside her, still wired.
“Okay,” he said. “Talk.”
She walked him through everything, calmly, clearly, but with that tremor of fear only a parent hears in themselves.
When she finished, Dan stared at the floor.
“We can’t start off by yelling at him,” he said finally. “He’ll just shut down.”
Liv nodded. “We talk. We explain. We tell him the truth: that if something had happened, we wouldn’t have known where he was.”
“And I get it,” Dan added. “He’s nineteen. He wants to go out. Fine. But he can’t lie about it.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Not uncomfortable, just heavy.
Then Dan said, “We should ask John to come over.”
Liv blinked. “Here?”
“Yeah. If he’s here when Leon comes down, Leon will know we’re united and that we know what happened, so hopefully he’ll be honest. And I want to thank him properly.” He hesitated. “I can pay him for his time. It is Sunday.”
Liv smiled faintly. “He won’t take it. But I’ll ask.”
She texted. John replied almost instantly.
“On my way. 30 minutes.”
Half an hour later, a knock sounded.
Dan was already halfway to the door.
John stood there in jeans and a hoodie, hair slightly mussed like he’d run a hand through it on the way over.
“John,” Dan said, shaking his hand. “Thank you. For last night. For bringing him home. And for coming today. I’m…really grateful.”
John’s handshake was steady. “It’s no trouble. I just happened to be there.”
“Still,” Dan said. “Thank you.”
Liv appeared behind him. “Coffee?”
John shook his head. “I’m good.”
They settled in the living room, John in the armchair, Liv on the sofa, Dan perched on the edge like he might spring up again at any moment.
They chatted lightly at first about the weather, renovations, stories from when they were young and stupid and thought nothing bad could happen to them.
Dan laughed. “When I was nineteen, I thought I could drink anything and still bike home.”
Liv snorted. “You couldn’t even stand.”
“No,” Dan admitted. “I really couldn’t.”
John smiled. “That’s nineteen. You feel grown, but you’re not.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Slow. Uneven. Trying to be quiet but failing.
Leon.
He appeared in the doorway, hair a mess, eyes squinting, hoodie wrinkled from sleep.
He froze when he saw John.
And Dan saw it, the tiny shift in his shoulders. The oh shit realization.
Good.
Liv stood. “Leon. Come sit.”
He obeyed.
Liv’s voice was calm but firm. “Leon, we need to talk.”
Dan leaned forward. “You told me you were staying here. And you told your mom you were staying with me. We had no idea where you were.”
Liv’s eyes softened, but her tone stayed steady. “If something had happened…we wouldn’t have known. That’s dangerous, Leon.”
Leon swallowed hard, shame burning through him. He glanced at John, bracing for betrayal.
But John said nothing. He hadn’t told them where Leon had been, only that he’d found him outside.
Liv’s voice wavered. “You should be grateful John saw you and brought you home.”
Leon nodded, unable to meet her eyes.
When John stood to leave, Leon followed him out. Cold air hit his face, sobering him further.
“Thanks,” Leon muttered. “For last night. And for…not telling them everything.”
John’s gaze was steady. “I don’t mind helping. But if you ever end up somewhere you don’t feel safe, call me. I’ll come get you.”
Leon nodded, throat tight.
“And one more thing,” John added. “Go inside and tell your parents yourself. Better it comes from you.”
Leon hesitated, then nodded again. “Yeah. I will.”
When he came back in, Liv and Dan were waiting.
Leon took a breath.
“I will tell you everything,” he said. “Who I was with. Where we went. I know I messed up. I won’t lie to you again.”
Liv and Dan exchanged a look, tired, relieved, still parents.
“Three weekends,” Dan said. “No parties. No late nights. And you keep us updated on where you are.”
Leon nodded. “It’s fair.”
And for the first time that morning, something in Dan eased. Not everything. But something.
