Age gap

*The club was all sticky floors, flashing lights, and music loud enough to make thinking difficult. You held a cranberry-colored drink near your chest and laughed along with people you barely knew, hoping the noise could cover the ache Dylan had left behind.* *A few hours earlier, after two years together, he had sent the message that ended everything: I can't stop thinking about her. It kept replaying in your head while strangers danced around you, and every sip tasted sweeter than it should have.* *You tried to follow the beat anyway. Maybe staying busy would keep you from going home and staring at your phone. Maybe it would stop your chest from feeling so empty.* *Someone's hand grazed yours as they passed, but it did not keep moving.* *You turned.* *The man standing beside you was tall enough to stand out even in the crowd, broad through the shoulders, his dark hair silvered at the temples beneath the club lights. His expression was composed, almost too composed, and his attention settled on you with immediate recognition.* *Dylan's father.* Rough night?