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As he shifted gears absently, he didn't put much thought into his destination. Almond Park was where he usually went to get his head around problems at work or at home, and he veered southwest off Banbridge Boulevard on autopilot, glad of the time of day. At this hour, it wouldn't be hard to find a secluded area away from the dog walkers, the joggers, and the half-naked college kids groping each other in the dark, and he knew just the spot where he could sit in peace and think about his son. With this is in mind, he was therefore stunned when he finally parked the jeep and took stock of his surroundings which were familiar, but still nowhere near where he assumed he'd be.\n\nFor a long moment, Malcolm kept his fingers poised to the right of the steering wheel and looked out the windshield at the \"Prairie Box\" house he grew up in, wondering why he'd driven himself here. For the past nine years, he'd been avoiding this place, loath to listen to his folks criticize his parenting skills on their home turf or coach him on how to raise his own sons. They always seemed to needle him about Reckless in particular, and as Malcolm thought about that, he grudgingly realized he'd answered his own question.\n\nHe turned off the ignition and stepped down from the truck.\n\nOn the doorstep he hesitated, unsure whether he still had a right to use the house keys his parents had given him in his teens, but finally he rang the bell, glancing left and right self-consciously. Within seconds, Ramona Barrett answered his call, gaped for a split second then bustled him in, pulling him down to her level for a kiss before hollering to her husband that their middle child was home. Instantly, a clattering of coffee cups and the sound of chairs being scraped back could be heard from the kitchen, and Malcolm straightened up to find himself enveloped in bear hugs, not only from his father, but also from his younger brother.\n\nAlready on edge from the circumstances surrounding this visit, Malcolm was overwhelmed with fresh guilt. For his family to be greeting him so enthusiastically said something very telling about how glaringly he'd been shunning them, and he coloured with embarrassment, not quite knowing what to say. His discomfort was plain to see, but while his mom and his brother Warren hurried to put him at ease, his pop was less accommodating. As soon as they'd hustled him into the kitchen for coffee and cake, Leif Barrett began his standard interrogation.\n\n\"How are the boys?\" he asked immediately.\n\nMalcolm took a sip of his coffee and hesitated.\n\n\"Ah, good....more and more, Sonny's becoming my right hand man down on site...and Kurt's trying to follow in his footsteps half the time. The other half he's trying to follow Dalton's and become a professional ballplayer.\"\n\nAlthough it was clear that Malcolm found this last bit more humourous than distressing, Leif was alarmed – not so much about Kurt who was still a little boy and clearly didn't yet know what he wanted from life, as about Dalton who didn't have much time to waste before he graduated college and officially became a man.\n\n\"A ball player?\" he queried his son. \"You mean you haven't knocked that idea out of Dalton's head yet?\"\n\nA resigned shake of the head was his answer, and Leif's frown deepened.\n\n\"Well, are his grades at the top of his class at least?\"\n\nThe probing tone in his father's voice was irritating, but Malcolm reminded himself to take it easy. Pop hadn't seen any of the boys except Kurt in months so it was only natural for him to be concerned about his grandsons. He wasn't going to like the answer to his question, but then, he still had a right to hear it. Malcolm counted to five then confessed the truth to his father.\n\n\"They're falling...again. He's taking summer classes now to make up for the ones he bombed last semester but his mind's not on them. I can see it.\"\n\nLeif harrumphed and gave his son a sharp look.\n\n\"Maybe he needs a little incentive.\"\n\nKnowing exactly what his father meant by that remark, Malcolm exchange a quick glance with his brother who stirred quietly in his chair.\n\n\"No need to convince me, Pop. I agree. If you'd been at the house a few weeks ago, you would've found the future Ty Cobb to be very sore and sulky.\"\n\nEver the softie, Ramona was not pleased to hear this. She was even less pleased two seconds later when her youngest son started chuckling.\n\n\"How's he doing now?\" Warren asked with a grin. \"Can he sit yet?\"\n\nMalcolm nodded but didn't share his brother's amusement. \"Yes, but he's going to lose that privilege again soon if he keeps on going the way he is. Already that boy's started testing me again —\"\n\n\"Nip it in the bud,\" Leif commanded. \"That grandson of mine's a charmer and he's gifted on the field but that can only take a kid so far. You remember those Tampas kids?\" he asked.\n\nTempted to roll his eyes, Malcolm nodded wearily. Growing up, all five of the Tampas brothers in the neighbourhood had proven to be spectacular hockey players, yet each one had had his pro aspirations crippled by freak accidents. Jay Tampas had been the only one of the five that the Barrett boys had known personally, but that fact had always been inconsequential to Pop. Every time he or Warren or Michael started slacking off in their studies to fool around in some rink or on some field Pop would straighten them out with a lecture about how the Tampas brothers had mucked up their futures by putting all their eggs in one basket – usually accompanied by some pretty hard swats to the bottom.\n\nLeif watched Malcolm's face carefully to see that his point was well taken and grunted as he realized that it was.\n\n\"Good. See to it Dalton doesn't turn out like them.\"\n\nA grim pall seemed to settle over the table then, and Leif quickly spoke up to dispel it.\n\n\"Last I heard, you gave your mother and me four grandkids, not three, son. What's going on with Reckless?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Mom jumped in with a pat on his arm. \"How's Rex, honey?\n\nMalcolm stiffened. This was the one question he truly didn't want to answer, but it was also the sole reason for his visit. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably from one parent to the other.\n\n\"Rex is...why I'm here...Mom...Dad...I think I've lost him.\"\n\nLeif jumped up immediately.\n\n\"LOST HIM?! Did he run away? When was the last time you saw him? Warren, call the —\"\n\nAs his father kicked the chair back and prepared to go running for the phone himself, Malcolm leapt to his feet and grabbed his arm.\n\n\"Pop! Calm down! He hasn't run away!\"\n\nFurious and more confused than ever, Leif shook off his hand and began to demand an explanation. Ramona shushed him, though, then turned back to their son, trying to get the facts.\n\n\"Honey, we don't understand. Did you fight with him?\" she asked. \"What did Rex tell you — ?\"\n\n\"That I \"suck\" as a parent...and his brothers back him up.\"\n\nAs Malcolm sat back down in defeat and pushed his desert plate away, Ramona gestured for Leif to keep quiet so she could probe for more details.\n\n\"I don't believe that. Sonny, Dalton and Kurt would never say you're a bad father to them.\"\n\n\"No,\" Malcolm groused. \"But they do think I'm a bad father to Rex.\"\n\nIt wasn't likely that his family would contradict him and they didn't. Not even his mom corrected herself to include Rex in the last statement she'd made, and Malcolm felt his face colouring as he faced his family, bracing himself for their criticism.\n\n\"Look, you and Mike and Trina and Jenny, you've all been telling me the same thing in one way or another for years. I know you agree.\"\n\n\"We do,\" Leif stated. As Malcolm shot him a look full of angry hurt at his bluntness, he narrowed his gaze at his son. \"Don't give me that. You said it first this time, I didn't, so to me, that means you're asking my opinion and this is it: your boys are right. You've been treating Reckless differently since the day your wife left and we've been trying to make you see that for over half the child's life.\"\n\nIt was on the tip of Malcolm's tongue to snap at his father, but he knew his old man was right and swallowed his pride.\n\n\"Fine, Pop. I know.\"\n\n\"Do you?\" Leif questioned angrily. \"Do you really?\"\n\nWarren put down his fork and scowled. Dad had a habit of browbeating them even after they'd admitted a fault, and Malcolm always seemed to get the worst of it.\n\n\"Dad, he just said he did. Maybe you should give him a break?\"\n\nAs Leif turned to snap at his youngest, Malcolm re-directed his ire. He knew what Warren was trying to do for him, and he appreciated it, but this was his fight. Pop had every right to get on his case tonight and he wasn't going to shy away from it if he could help it. He cleared his throat and addressed his father.\n\n\"Look, Pop. I know, okay. I know. I've been brushing you guys off for a long time, but...I'm here now and I'm ready to listen. Everyone keeps telling me that I'm not close to Rex the way I am with his brothers and...and I'm starting to see that.\"\n\nMalcolm glanced at his mom for support and she smiled her encouragement. Her husband did not. Leif had not raised his own sons to treat their sons as his middle child was treating Rex, and since Malcolm was finally coming to that realization and was willing to sit still and listen to the family's feelings about it, well, by god, Leif was going to tell him.\n\n\"When was the last time you told that boy you loved him?\"\n\nTurning back to his father, Malcolm squared his jaw defensively. He knew where the man was going with this, but he couldn't even throw it back in his dad's face. Every night before he'd gone to bed as a kid and even as a hulking teenager, Pop had made a point of telling him that he loved him, and this, despite the fact that most dads in their community didn't have a reputation for being candid with their kids. No matter how much trouble he'd gotten into during the day or how indifferent he'd acted toward that nightly ritual, Pop had always told him those three words, doing the same with Warren and the same with Michael.\n\n\"It's been awhile since I told any of the boys that,\" Malcolm admitted stiffly. \"But they don't need to hear it. I show them in other ways.\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" Leif replied. \"But how do you show Reckless that you love him? Do you hug him? Do you spend any time with him one-on-one? Do you talk to him about what's going on in his life? His friends? His homework? His plans for the future? Do you ever ask him what he wants to be when he grows up?\"\n\nAs Malcolm sat there and grew more rigid, unable to reply positively to any of those rapid-fire questions, Leif posed him the same one that had started this whole mess then paused, deliberately allowing his son the time to answer.\n\n\"When was the last time you spanked that boy?\"\n\nNostrils flaring, Malcolm gripped his coffee cup and squeezed. \"I...don't...remember.\"\n\n\"You trying to tell me that my sixteen-year-old grandson is a saint?!\"\n\nMalcolm shook his head and shut his eyes, bracing himself for an explosion. He didn't have to wait.\n\n\"GOOD GOD, BOY! I'M SURPRISED YOU EVEN KNOW THAT CHILD EXISTS!\"\n\n\"DAD!\"\n\nLeif ignored the outburst of his youngest as he glared at his middle son. This was the longest conversation Malcolm had ever sat through about Reckless, and it galled him to realize just how non-existent their father-son relationship had become. That Malcolm was here now, willing to discuss it, said something at least about his willingness to correct the situation, but why in god's name had he let it go on so long in the first place? Did Malcolm really think it could be fixed now? The longer Leif Barrett thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the answer was \"no\" but something still had to be done, and he forced himself to lower his voice.\n\n\"Malcolm,\" he began. \"Reckless is not just your son, he is MY grandson and he deserves a father.\" He paused to let that fact sink in then fixed his gaze on his wife. \"We probably have no legal right to say this, but we think you should give him up to your mother and me —\"\n\nWhile Ramona looked across at her husband, alarmed that he could be so tactless regardless of how completely she might agree, that was it for Malcolm. He was not going to sit around and listen to this, and he seethed with anger at the very suggestion.\n\n\"No! You are not taking my son!\"\n\n\"We can raise him for you and you can come visit if you feel like it —\"\n\n\"YOU ARE NOT TAKING MY SON!!!\"\n\nBefore his father could utter one more word on the subject, Malcolm shoved his chair back and stormed out. As Ramona gave her husband one of her wait-til-I-get-you-alone looks, Warren jumped up as well and charged after his brother, overtaking him as he was about to get into his truck.\n\n\"Mal! Malcolm, wait!\"\n\n\"Get off me! I'm not letting any of you take my kid! I came here to get some advice and to figure out what went wrong with my son, not to give him up for adoption!\"\n\nAs Malcolm turned his back, extracted his keys and disengaged the car alarm, Warren blocked his path. If simple advice was what his big brother came to get then that's what he'd give him.\n\n\"You want advice about Rex, Mal? Go home and hug the hell out of him! You've been avoiding that nephew of mine since the day Sofia left you and I'm sick of seeing it! Mom and Dad're sick of seeing it, and so is everyone else! I know you're pissed off at Sofia for leaving but you can't get back at her by abandoning her favorite kid! She's gone, Mal, she couldn't hack being a mother any more and she doesn't know what you're doing to him! The only person you're getting back at is Rex!\"\n\nMalcolm didn't want to hear any more. He shoved his brother aside and jumped into his truck, squealing the tires as he tore down the street. Considering the speed at which he drove, he wasn't at all surprised to find himself back home in less than half the time it took him to leave and he cut the engine, still fuming. As he opened the door to step out, he paused, pulled his leg back in then shut the door.\n\nHe never let his thoughts dwell on his ex-wife if he could help it, but with his sons' accusations ringing in his ears again and now Warren's, he didn't have a choice. Four hours later, he was cramped, uncomfortable and embarrassed by the tears of remorse he'd spent the last hour shedding but he was willing to acknowledge the truth.\n\nWarren was right.\n\nOf all their sons, Rex had been Sofia's \"baby\" and she'd bragged to anyone who'd listen that \"her\" child would be great and accomplish great things.\n\nThen she'd left.\n\nJust packed up and disappeared one day while Malcolm had taken the boys to visit his parents, leaving behind a \"Dear John\" letter for each of them. The boys, of course, had been devastated. All four of them had misbehaved and rebelled for weeks afterwards to signal their distress, and for two months, Malcolm had been lenient, letting them get the initial anger out of their system. Everyone had explained that he needed to be patient, that children need time to deal with something as catastrophic as the sudden loss of Mommy, but while Malcolm recognized that, he also recognized the fact that his newfound \"agony aunts\" weren't the ones living with four little boys running amok. He needed to tighten the reins again, and when he did, they were right back where they had been before.\n\nThe exception: Reckless.\n\nWhen Sonny and Dalton inevitably began pointing out that they were getting spanked for crimes their younger brother was not, Malcolm had simply told them that Rex was taking longer to adjust and needed more time. This was not true, but as the boys eventually gave up complaining to him – no doubt noticing they were getting spoiled in other ways that Rex wasn't – Malcolm stopped having to question his own motives.\n\nNow, thanks to Warren, Malcolm did.\n\nAnd he was ashamed.\n\nRex wasn't just Sofia's son, he was his too. What kind of a father was he to try and even the score with his ex-wife by sidelining the child she loved most? He hadn't even seen the woman since she'd split and had no idea where she was now. How could he turn his back on his own kid just to prove her wrong about the boy's future? To \"raise\" Reckless as the spoiled and undisciplined slacker Sofia swore he'd never be? She wouldn't even know if Malcolm had \"won\"! How in God's name could he be so damn callous to his own flesh and blood when he was the only responsible parent the boy had left?\n\nMalcolm didn't know. What he did know was that he had a helluva lot to atone for and the first person he needed to start with was Rex.\n\nAs he stepped down from the truck and fully realized the lateness of the hour, the temptation to wait until morning was great, but Malcolm refused to do it. He didn't trust himself. If he postponed his confession to Rex just once, it would be that much easier to do it again in the morning, and then again and again each time he saw his son.\n\nNo, this had to be done now.\n\nAs he expected when he entered Rex's room, the sixteen-year-old was fast asleep, sprawled on his side and facing the door with what looked like a Bible clutched against his chest. Surprised to find that it was one of their family albums, Malcolm extracted it gently then set it on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed and studied his son, slowly reaching out to run a hand over his wavy, brown hair. When Rex didn't stir, he leaned in next to kiss him, and as his lips connected with the boy's unblemished forehead, Malcolm was struck anew by a very depressing fact: The last time he'd sat beside his third son like this or made any attempt to tuck him in, the boy had been seven.\n\nSwallowing hard to dislodge the rising lump in his throat, Malcolm brought his hand down to Rex's back and rubbed circles in it to wake him up. The moment the teen opened his eyes and recognized who was patting him, he stiffened. It was more or less the reaction Malcolm had been expecting, but it still hurt, and he forced himself to smile as he reached up to stroke the boy's hair.\n\nRex didn't notice.\n\nThough he looked up into his father's face and listened to the man tell him some sob story about how Mom's leaving had messed up his head, Rex refused to swallow a single word. He was just starting to get used to the idea that the man didn't give a shit about him and he wasn't about to let his dad back into his heart just so it could get crushed a second time. The bastard could just forget it. He could beg Rex's forgiveness all he fucking liked and make a thousand promises about how much time they were going to start spending together and how many chats they were going to have, just one-on-one, but Rex didn't buy and he sure as hell didn't buy his dad's vow to start punishing him – for real – whenever he deserved it now. Fuck him. He wasn't that dumb.\n\nAbove him, Malcolm sensed his profound skepticism and stopped talking. He was disappointed but hardly surprised, and he definitely couldn't blame the boy. If he were in Rex's shoes, chances are, he wouldn't believe a damn word he was saying either, so with a promise to continue their talk in the morning, Malcolm stroked his son's cheek, vowed that he loved him, then left.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "After supper, once the boys had scattered to hook up with friends – or, in Rex's case, to disappear quietly upstairs – Malcolm collected his keys, slid behind the wheel of his Jeep Liberty and went for a drive. As he shifted gears absently, he didn't put much thought into his destination. Almond Park was where he usually went to get his head around problems at work or at home, and he veered southwest off Banbridge Boulevard on autopilot, glad of the time of day. At this hour, it wouldn't be hard to find a secluded area away from the dog walkers, the joggers, and the half-naked college kids groping each other in the dark, and he knew just the spot where he could sit in peace and think about his son. With this is in mind, he was therefore stunned when he finally parked the jeep and took stock of his surroundings which were familiar, but still nowhere near where he assumed he'd be.

For a long moment, Malcolm kept his fingers poised to the right of the steering wheel and looked out the windshield at the "Prairie Box" house he grew up in, wondering why he'd driven himself here. For the past nine years, he'd been avoiding this place, loath to listen to his folks criticize his parenting skills on their home turf or coach him on how to raise his own sons. They always seemed to needle him about Reckless in particular, and as Malcolm thought about that, he grudgingly realized he'd answered his own question.

He turned off the ignition and stepped down from the truck.

On the doorstep he hesitated, unsure whether he still had a right to use the house keys his parents had given him in his teens, but finally he rang the bell, glancing left and right self-consciously. Within seconds, Ramona Barrett answered his call, gaped for a split second then bustled him in, pulling him down to her level for a kiss before hollering to her husband that their middle child was home. Instantly, a clattering of coffee cups and the sound of chairs being scraped back could be heard from the kitchen, and Malcolm straightened up to find himself enveloped in bear hugs, not only from his father, but also from his younger brother.

Already on edge from the circumstances surrounding this visit, Malcolm was overwhelmed with fresh guilt. For his family to be greeting him so enthusiastically said something very telling about how glaringly he'd been shunning them, and he coloured with embarrassment, not quite knowing what to say. His discomfort was plain to see, but while his mom and his brother Warren hurried to put him at ease, his pop was less accommodating. As soon as they'd hustled him into the kitchen for coffee and cake, Leif Barrett began his standard interrogation.

"How are the boys?" he asked immediately.

Malcolm took a sip of his coffee and hesitated.

"Ah, good....more and more, Sonny's becoming my right hand man down on site...and Kurt's trying to follow in his footsteps half the time. The other half he's trying to follow Dalton's and become a professional ballplayer."

Although it was clear that Malcolm found this last bit more humourous than distressing, Leif was alarmed – not so much about Kurt who was still a little boy and clearly didn't yet know what he wanted from life, as about Dalton who didn't have much time to waste before he graduated college and officially became a man.

"A ball player?" he queried his son. "You mean you haven't knocked that idea out of Dalton's head yet?"

A resigned shake of the head was his answer, and Leif's frown deepened.

"Well, are his grades at the top of his class at least?"

The probing tone in his father's voice was irritating, but Malcolm reminded himself to take it easy. Pop hadn't seen any of the boys except Kurt in months so it was only natural for him to be concerned about his grandsons. He wasn't going to like the answer to his question, but then, he still had a right to hear it. Malcolm counted to five then confessed the truth to his father.

"They're falling...again. He's taking summer classes now to make up for the ones he bombed last semester but his mind's not on them. I can see it."

Leif harrumphed and gave his son a sharp look.

"Maybe he needs a little incentive."

Knowing exactly what his father meant by that remark, Malcolm exchange a quick glance with his brother who stirred quietly in his chair.

"No need to convince me, Pop. I agree. If you'd been at the house a few weeks ago, you would've found the future Ty Cobb to be very sore and sulky."

Ever the softie, Ramona was not pleased to hear this. She was even less pleased two seconds later when her youngest son started chuckling.

"How's he doing now?" Warren asked with a grin. "Can he sit yet?"

Malcolm nodded but didn't share his brother's amusement. "Yes, but he's going to lose that privilege again soon if he keeps on going the way he is. Already that boy's started testing me again —"

"Nip it in the bud," Leif commanded. "That grandson of mine's a charmer and he's gifted on the field but that can only take a kid so far. You remember those Tampas kids?" he asked.

Tempted to roll his eyes, Malcolm nodded wearily. Growing up, all five of the Tampas brothers in the neighbourhood had proven to be spectacular hockey players, yet each one had had his pro aspirations crippled by freak accidents. Jay Tampas had been the only one of the five that the Barrett boys had known personally, but that fact had always been inconsequential to Pop. Every time he or Warren or Michael started slacking off in their studies to fool around in some rink or on some field Pop would straighten them out with a lecture about how the Tampas brothers had mucked up their futures by putting all their eggs in one basket – usually accompanied by some pretty hard swats to the bottom.

Leif watched Malcolm's face carefully to see that his point was well taken and grunted as he realized that it was.

"Good. See to it Dalton doesn't turn out like them."

A grim pall seemed to settle over the table then, and Leif quickly spoke up to dispel it.

"Last I heard, you gave your mother and me four grandkids, not three, son. What's going on with Reckless?"

"Yes," Mom jumped in with a pat on his arm. "How's Rex, honey?

Malcolm stiffened. This was the one question he truly didn't want to answer, but it was also the sole reason for his visit. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably from one parent to the other.

"Rex is...why I'm here...Mom...Dad...I think I've lost him."

Leif jumped up immediately.

"LOST HIM?! Did he run away? When was the last time you saw him? Warren, call the —"

As his father kicked the chair back and prepared to go running for the phone himself, Malcolm leapt to his feet and grabbed his arm.

"Pop! Calm down! He hasn't run away!"

Furious and more confused than ever, Leif shook off his hand and began to demand an explanation. Ramona shushed him, though, then turned back to their son, trying to get the facts.

"Honey, we don't understand. Did you fight with him?" she asked. "What did Rex tell you — ?"

"That I "suck" as a parent...and his brothers back him up."

As Malcolm sat back down in defeat and pushed his desert plate away, Ramona gestured for Leif to keep quiet so she could probe for more details.

"I don't believe that. Sonny, Dalton and Kurt would never say you're a bad father to them."

"No," Malcolm groused. "But they do think I'm a bad father to Rex."

It wasn't likely that his family would contradict him and they didn't. Not even his mom corrected herself to include Rex in the last statement she'd made, and Malcolm felt his face colouring as he faced his family, bracing himself for their criticism.

"Look, you and Mike and Trina and Jenny, you've all been telling me the same thing in one way or another for years. I know you agree."

"We do," Leif stated. As Malcolm shot him a look full of angry hurt at his bluntness, he narrowed his gaze at his son. "Don't give me that. You said it first this time, I didn't, so to me, that means you're asking my opinion and this is it: your boys are right. You've been treating Reckless differently since the day your wife left and we've been trying to make you see that for over half the child's life."

It was on the tip of Malcolm's tongue to snap at his father, but he knew his old man was right and swallowed his pride.

"Fine, Pop. I know."

"Do you?" Leif questioned angrily. "Do you really?"

Warren put down his fork and scowled. Dad had a habit of browbeating them even after they'd admitted a fault, and Malcolm always seemed to get the worst of it.

"Dad, he just said he did. Maybe you should give him a break?"

As Leif turned to snap at his youngest, Malcolm re-directed his ire. He knew what Warren was trying to do for him, and he appreciated it, but this was his fight. Pop had every right to get on his case tonight and he wasn't going to shy away from it if he could help it. He cleared his throat and addressed his father.

"Look, Pop. I know, okay. I know. I've been brushing you guys off for a long time, but...I'm here now and I'm ready to listen. Everyone keeps telling me that I'm not close to Rex the way I am with his brothers and...and I'm starting to see that."

Malcolm glanced at his mom for support and she smiled her encouragement. Her husband did not. Leif had not raised his own sons to treat their sons as his middle child was treating Rex, and since Malcolm was finally coming to that realization and was willing to sit still and listen to the family's feelings about it, well, by god, Leif was going to tell him.

"When was the last time you told that boy you loved him?"

Turning back to his father, Malcolm squared his jaw defensively. He knew where the man was going with this, but he couldn't even throw it back in his dad's face. Every night before he'd gone to bed as a kid and even as a hulking teenager, Pop had made a point of telling him that he loved him, and this, despite the fact that most dads in their community didn't have a reputation for being candid with their kids. No matter how much trouble he'd gotten into during the day or how indifferent he'd acted toward that nightly ritual, Pop had always told him those three words, doing the same with Warren and the same with Michael.

"It's been awhile since I told any of the boys that," Malcolm admitted stiffly. "But they don't need to hear it. I show them in other ways."

"Fair enough," Leif replied. "But how do you show Reckless that you love him? Do you hug him? Do you spend any time with him one-on-one? Do you talk to him about what's going on in his life? His friends? His homework? His plans for the future? Do you ever ask him what he wants to be when he grows up?"

As Malcolm sat there and grew more rigid, unable to reply positively to any of those rapid-fire questions, Leif posed him the same one that had started this whole mess then paused, deliberately allowing his son the time to answer.

"When was the last time you spanked that boy?"

Nostrils flaring, Malcolm gripped his coffee cup and squeezed. "I...don't...remember."

"You trying to tell me that my sixteen-year-old grandson is a saint?!"

Malcolm shook his head and shut his eyes, bracing himself for an explosion. He didn't have to wait.

"GOOD GOD, BOY! I'M SURPRISED YOU EVEN KNOW THAT CHILD EXISTS!"

"DAD!"

Leif ignored the outburst of his youngest as he glared at his middle son. This was the longest conversation Malcolm had ever sat through about Reckless, and it galled him to realize just how non-existent their father-son relationship had become. That Malcolm was here now, willing to discuss it, said something at least about his willingness to correct the situation, but why in god's name had he let it go on so long in the first place? Did Malcolm really think it could be fixed now? The longer Leif Barrett thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the answer was "no" but something still had to be done, and he forced himself to lower his voice.

"Malcolm," he began. "Reckless is not just your son, he is MY grandson and he deserves a father." He paused to let that fact sink in then fixed his gaze on his wife. "We probably have no legal right to say this, but we think you should give him up to your mother and me —"

While Ramona looked across at her husband, alarmed that he could be so tactless regardless of how completely she might agree, that was it for Malcolm. He was not going to sit around and listen to this, and he seethed with anger at the very suggestion.

"No! You are not taking my son!"

"We can raise him for you and you can come visit if you feel like it —"

"YOU ARE NOT TAKING MY SON!!!"

Before his father could utter one more word on the subject, Malcolm shoved his chair back and stormed out. As Ramona gave her husband one of her wait-til-I-get-you-alone looks, Warren jumped up as well and charged after his brother, overtaking him as he was about to get into his truck.

"Mal! Malcolm, wait!"

"Get off me! I'm not letting any of you take my kid! I came here to get some advice and to figure out what went wrong with my son, not to give him up for adoption!"

As Malcolm turned his back, extracted his keys and disengaged the car alarm, Warren blocked his path. If simple advice was what his big brother came to get then that's what he'd give him.

"You want advice about Rex, Mal? Go home and hug the hell out of him! You've been avoiding that nephew of mine since the day Sofia left you and I'm sick of seeing it! Mom and Dad're sick of seeing it, and so is everyone else! I know you're pissed off at Sofia for leaving but you can't get back at her by abandoning her favorite kid! She's gone, Mal, she couldn't hack being a mother any more and she doesn't know what you're doing to him! The only person you're getting back at is Rex!"

Malcolm didn't want to hear any more. He shoved his brother aside and jumped into his truck, squealing the tires as he tore down the street. Considering the speed at which he drove, he wasn't at all surprised to find himself back home in less than half the time it took him to leave and he cut the engine, still fuming. As he opened the door to step out, he paused, pulled his leg back in then shut the door.

He never let his thoughts dwell on his ex-wife if he could help it, but with his sons' accusations ringing in his ears again and now Warren's, he didn't have a choice. Four hours later, he was cramped, uncomfortable and embarrassed by the tears of remorse he'd spent the last hour shedding but he was willing to acknowledge the truth.

Warren was right.

Of all their sons, Rex had been Sofia's "baby" and she'd bragged to anyone who'd listen that "her" child would be great and accomplish great things.

Then she'd left.

Just packed up and disappeared one day while Malcolm had taken the boys to visit his parents, leaving behind a "Dear John" letter for each of them. The boys, of course, had been devastated. All four of them had misbehaved and rebelled for weeks afterwards to signal their distress, and for two months, Malcolm had been lenient, letting them get the initial anger out of their system. Everyone had explained that he needed to be patient, that children need time to deal with something as catastrophic as the sudden loss of Mommy, but while Malcolm recognized that, he also recognized the fact that his newfound "agony aunts" weren't the ones living with four little boys running amok. He needed to tighten the reins again, and when he did, they were right back where they had been before.

The exception: Reckless.

When Sonny and Dalton inevitably began pointing out that they were getting spanked for crimes their younger brother was not, Malcolm had simply told them that Rex was taking longer to adjust and needed more time. This was not true, but as the boys eventually gave up complaining to him – no doubt noticing they were getting spoiled in other ways that Rex wasn't – Malcolm stopped having to question his own motives.

Now, thanks to Warren, Malcolm did.

And he was ashamed.

Rex wasn't just Sofia's son, he was his too. What kind of a father was he to try and even the score with his ex-wife by sidelining the child she loved most? He hadn't even seen the woman since she'd split and had no idea where she was now. How could he turn his back on his own kid just to prove her wrong about the boy's future? To "raise" Reckless as the spoiled and undisciplined slacker Sofia swore he'd never be? She wouldn't even know if Malcolm had "won"! How in God's name could he be so damn callous to his own flesh and blood when he was the only responsible parent the boy had left?

Malcolm didn't know. What he did know was that he had a helluva lot to atone for and the first person he needed to start with was Rex.

As he stepped down from the truck and fully realized the lateness of the hour, the temptation to wait until morning was great, but Malcolm refused to do it. He didn't trust himself. If he postponed his confession to Rex just once, it would be that much easier to do it again in the morning, and then again and again each time he saw his son.

No, this had to be done now.

As he expected when he entered Rex's room, the sixteen-year-old was fast asleep, sprawled on his side and facing the door with what looked like a Bible clutched against his chest. Surprised to find that it was one of their family albums, Malcolm extracted it gently then set it on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed and studied his son, slowly reaching out to run a hand over his wavy, brown hair. When Rex didn't stir, he leaned in next to kiss him, and as his lips connected with the boy's unblemished forehead, Malcolm was struck anew by a very depressing fact: The last time he'd sat beside his third son like this or made any attempt to tuck him in, the boy had been seven.

Swallowing hard to dislodge the rising lump in his throat, Malcolm brought his hand down to Rex's back and rubbed circles in it to wake him up. The moment the teen opened his eyes and recognized who was patting him, he stiffened. It was more or less the reaction Malcolm had been expecting, but it still hurt, and he forced himself to smile as he reached up to stroke the boy's hair.

Rex didn't notice.

Though he looked up into his father's face and listened to the man tell him some sob story about how Mom's leaving had messed up his head, Rex refused to swallow a single word. He was just starting to get used to the idea that the man didn't give a shit about him and he wasn't about to let his dad back into his heart just so it could get crushed a second time. The bastard could just forget it. He could beg Rex's forgiveness all he fucking liked and make a thousand promises about how much time they were going to start spending together and how many chats they were going to have, just one-on-one, but Rex didn't buy and he sure as hell didn't buy his dad's vow to start punishing him – for real – whenever he deserved it now. Fuck him. He wasn't that dumb.

Above him, Malcolm sensed his profound skepticism and stopped talking. He was disappointed but hardly surprised, and he definitely couldn't blame the boy. If he were in Rex's shoes, chances are, he wouldn't believe a damn word he was saying either, so with a promise to continue their talk in the morning, Malcolm stroked his son's cheek, vowed that he loved him, then left.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Reckless & His Dad's Belt (4)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "3", "views": "134" }