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The rain gently spattered against the window of the coffee shop. She sat there, steaming latte on the table next to her, Walt Whitman\'s song of myself in her hand. She read

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

There was a gentle ding as the doors to the shop opened and a man stepped in. His hair was short cropped on the sides and long on top. He wore a western shirt with a bolo tie, very out of place in the New England coffee shop. He had an easy smile and easily commanded the room. But his eyes, oh his soft blue eyes, they told a different story all together. This was a man who had been hurt time and time again. A man who had hurt, maybe intentionally, maybe not, time and time again. The mischevious glint was an invitation, a dare, maybe it will work out, maybe it won\'t, but why not roll the dice and find out.

He ordered a coffee and sat down at the table with her. Noticing that she had been staring at her since the moment he walked in, he decided to strike up a conversation.

"Hi," he said, voice raspy and world weary, despite his young appearance. "I\'m Chet Hunter."

"Elaine McGinty," she replied. "Nice to meet you Chet."

_____________

Shawn woke from his day dream. He knew it would not have been the way they met, the way his true mother really was. But maybe that false reality was just a little bit better than the truth. Maybe that comfortable lie was just a bit easier than the harsh reality. His father, gone, just a memory. His mother, never there to begin with.

Join the Boys today with their guest, Luke Garrison, as they rewatch "Family Trees"