Page 102 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“But you don’t know what that fight was about.”

“Did it matter?”

Steven shrugged. “I have no idea. Did you know the kid?”

“He was kind to me. I bought him lunch. Told him about the Cabin.”

“And when did the guys start beating him up?”

“Ow!” Myles jerked his arm away when Steven had to use tweezers from the kit to dig out a particularly stubborn bit of rock.

“Maybe tell me the story from the beginning.”

Myles did, starting from breakfast that morning

and ending, well after Steven had finished wrapping his arm with more gauze and tape, with Steven’s arrival in the kitchen.

“What was I supposed to do?” Myles demanded. “I couldn’t do nothing.”

“Agreed.”

“But Jet was right. I should have answered my phone the first time.”

“There were times, when Jake was in high school, that he didn’t show up right after school. A lot of those times were because he’d been harassed, and he’d taken shelter from his bullies in the B and B. That was when it was still an empty building. And she would let him in, but not his bullies. There were days like that he would be over an hour late, and I was so spaced-out sorting and dusting books I didn’t notice. Stephanie was working across town at the time, and it would take her calling to ask about supper for me to notice he wasn’t there. And sometimes, even when she was here too, he would be late, and we’d lost track of time and didn’t realize right away.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that people aren’t perfect. You’re the one who keeps pointing that out, right? So don’t let Jet bully you into feeling you should be.”

“But he was right! And he was scared. He had no idea where I was, what I was doing.”

“But he still handled it. And you fixed the issue. You apologized. You’ll pay more attention from now on. Stop beating yourself up because you tried to do a good thing.”

“They have to be my priority.”

“Trust me, no one, not even me—especially not me—thinks differently.”

“But this weekend. It was… hard, Steven.” He bit into his lip, grimaced, but only pushed his teeth down harder.

Steven touched his cheek. He frowned when Myles didn’t stop and had to run his thumb over Myles’s mouth to draw his attention to it.

He finally let the already damaged lip go and sagged as he dabbed at it with one finger. “I thought being here would make things better,” Myles confessed. “But hanging out with them for two days, on my own.” He glanced at Steven, and the “without you” was heavily implied. “It was so much. It shouldn’t be.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

“Because they’re my family.”

“Which might be the shittiest reason anyone ever had for expecting things to be easy. Of course they’re your family, and of course you love them. So what?”

“So why is this so hard? I was so glad to drop her off.” He gazed at Steven, expression tortured. “What if somewhere inside, I was also dreading picking her up again?”

Steven shuffled to the edge of his chair, pushing his knees around Myles’s to encase him and bring him as close as their seated positions would allow. “Why wouldn’t it be hard? Look. What I know is that people wanting to have children have at least those nine months to get used to the idea they’ll be responsible for a whole other human being. And they still find it hard. They still have those moments of wishing to hell for just one little break for themselves.”

“Not like I didn’t know it was coming. When Nat’s diagnosis came down, we made plans. We discussed it. I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

“You made plans. And in the meantime, who looked after your sister? Who made sure she ate and slept and got to her appointments?”

“I did.”