Page 133 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

The flight and taxi back to the house passed in a pained blur for Myles. More leg room only went so far, and while a four-and-a-half-hour flight was not an eight-day drive, it was still a trial for its own reasons.

The three of them were still standing in the drive, staring at the house, long after the taxi driver had filled out his log and driven away.

“We can’t stay out here forever,” Myles said.

Shelly leaned on his good leg and wrapped an arm around his knee. “Can we go back to the nice house now, Uncle My-my?”

“Shells, we live here,” Jet said, stroking her hair.

“Do we have to?” She peered up at Jet, then Myles, who very much wanted to tell her that no, they did not have to live here.

“Come inside,” Jet told her, crouching to pick her up. “Let’s go see your room. You remember the pink blanket on your bed?”

“I like the green one on my bed at Mr. Lucky’s house better.” Her voice became more pinched and shrill as she spoke.

Jet shot a look at Myles.

“Take her inside. I’ll get the bags.”

“Leave them,” Jet snapped. “I’ll come back.”

“I can⁠—”

“Uncle Myles.”

“Jet.”

Jet closed his eyes, soot-black shadow on the lids reminding Myles who he was dealing with, but the moment passed, and Jet looked at him again. “Without the yelling, right?”

“Right.”

“So leave the bags. You’re in pain. I’ll come get them in a sec. Come inside and help Shells get reacquainted with old grumpy pants.” He indicated the house with a nod of his head in that direction.

“That what we’re calling him, then?”

“Unless he tells us otherwise. He’s going to act like a jerk, no reason I shouldn’t treat him like he’s a jerk.”

“Maybe if we’re nice to him⁠—”

“Him first.”

That seemed a little too nuanced for house-to-human relations, but Myles let it go. He was in pain, and wanted nothing more than to sit down, and maybe call Steven. Just hearing his voice would go a long way. Towards what, though? Easing a newly forming addiction? Sighing, he followed Jet on the trudge up the walk to the front door.

The door did not voluntarily open to admit them. In fact, Jet’s key momentarily stuck in the lock, and Myles was tempted to tell the building to stop throwing a hissy fit.

Once inside, the welcoming vibe of returning home after a long time away did not materialize. Myles might once have said there was a cold, dead aura about the place, but now he recognized sulking when he felt it in the air all around him.

Shelly climbed up on the extra-wide reading chair and pulled the blanket off the back over her head.

“Do you think Grandpa’s assholery infected the place while he was building it?” Jet asked.

“Maybe he just misses your mom. Like the rest of us.”

If the house had any thoughts on that assessment, it didn’t bother to try and communicate them.

“I’ll go get our stuff. Make sure he lets me back in.”

While he waited for Jet to get back, Myles texted Steven that they’d made it home.