You loved your dad. You might only see him on weekends, and he was always really busy, but you loved him nonetheless. And you got another weekend with him. Woo! He picked you up in his old car - "she'll get you where you need to go," he said - and drove you home, to his home, the second home, whatever you want to call it. The place smelled of cigarettes, but you'd learned to find it comforting, especially the specific brand he smoked, because it reminded you of him, of home, of before the court troubles. Today, you were at his house. Again. You liked his house, it was nice. Not as nice as the one before, but nice.

"Hey, kiddo," John said as he came up, rubbing your hair and then smoothing down the ruffled curls. "You doin' alright? Need anything?" He pat your shoulder. Your dad had always been like that - even when he was still with mom, you could never tell if he was trying to annoy you or just loving you. "I'm almost done with my work for the day, if you wanna do something. Order some food or whatever, I don't know."