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was a big
freakin' deal. He could see it in her brown eyes clear as day. And he sensed it
in her forced cheerfulness and busyness, prodding Ryan to get his stuff
together. Greg recognized she was fussing and scurrying around to avoid
actually dealing with him.
    "Ryan
Daniel, I told you to get this dirty bat bag into the garage before you left.
And here it sits, right in the middle of the hall. And your filthy old cleats,
too," she fussed at him uncharacteristically.
    Ryan walked over
and picked up the bag and shoes, a perturbed expression on his face. "All
right, Mom. You don't have to be a bitch about it," he said.
    Cara's eyes went
round, and without thinking, Greg stepped in. "Whoa, dude. That's not
gonna fly with me. You apologize for that remark," he demanded.
    Ryan slung the
bag over his shoulder, then looked at Greg. "You have no idea, Uncle Greg.
It's been hell around here today."
    "And your
disrespect is making the situation better how?" Greg asked him. He knew it
was a smartass question and probably wouldn't help the situation either, but it
made him mad to see Ryan treat Cara that way. Ryan shrugged and shook his head
as if Greg didn't understand at all.
    "It's still
not flying with me, Ryan. Apologize to your mother," Greg told him, a
darker measure of warning in his voice.
    Ryan finally
looked at her. "I'm sorry."
    "I'm sorry,
too, Ryan. I'm a little stressed with you guys all leaving in different
directions. I'm sorry if I've been a grouch," she said.
    He said nothing
else, but made his way toward the garage while Cara and Greg looked at one
another.
    "What the
hell is that all about?" Greg asked.
    "It happens
from time to time. He's a lot like Jason ... gets mad and mouthy." She
went back to checking luggage, but Greg easily read the stress in her body
language.
    "Sorry I
jumped in there. It just took me by surprise."
    She didn't even
look at him, but kept on struggling with the zipper on Ryan's suitcase.
"It's okay, Greg. He needed a little discipline. It's getting hard for me
to have much authority over him. He's a head taller and outweighs me by fifty
pounds now."
    Greg finally
took over with the zipper, gently pushing her hands away. "That doesn't
give him the right to speak with you that way. It isn't right."
    She straightened
and found his gaze with hers. "But it's what he knows. It's exactly how
his father spoke to me when he was mad."
    Greg suspected
as much, had actually witnessed it a time or two, though he figured Jason had
taken great pains to cover it up in public. "Well, it's not a something he
can't unlearn . We'll have ample opportunity to talk about that on our
ride to Norman."
    Ryan came back
into the room, a little more sheepish, but Greg could still read the boy, and
there was definitely a smolder of anger beneath the surface. "Do you have
everything you need?" Greg asked him.
    "Yeah."
    "All right,
then. Get this stuff loaded in the bed of my truck and wait for me there. I
want to talk to your mother for a minute." That earned him a dark look,
but Ryan did as he asked.
    "Wait. I
need a hug before you go. I don't think I've ever been separated from you for
two whole weeks. I'm going to miss you," Cara said. She reached to hug her
son, who sort of hugged her back. Greg wanted to kick his ass for his surly
attitude. But there would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to deal
with his own mess with Cara.
    "All right,
go on now. I'll be there in a few minutes," he told Ryan.
    They watched him
go, but as soon as the door closed Cara turned to him with a stricken look on
her face. "Oh, Greg ... I feel so bad about what happened Saturday
night."
    He felt
blindsided by that. "About what?" he asked gingerly.
    She looked
positively repentant and shot a look at the door to make certain her son was
truly out of hearing range. "About kissing you. I have no earthly idea
what came over me ... what caused me to do that. I'd blame it on the wine, but
you know I wouldn't drive under the influence and