Page 135 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Leave him alone,” Pat said without looking up from measuring tea.

Myles didn’t know if she was talking to him or the house, but the door swung back open, so he didn’t ask.

They settled on the couch to chat, and the dregs of Myles’s tea were cold by the time he’d related their summer adventures.

Of course she interrogated him about Steven first, and he answered all her questions, including everything up to and including his phone conversation a few days prior, when Steven had told him they thought there was something living under his eaves that Ozzy was going to go up and investigate.

“And you know, he didn’t even sound panicked about it. Worried, of course, but matter-of-fact. Like it was under control, and he wasn’t the least bit worried.”

“People heal, Myles. Sounds like he’s making progress.”

Myles nodded. “Yeah. I think we all are. Jet still talks to Wyatt every day.”

“I’m so glad he made a friend,” she said, putting her mug down and turning, tucking her feet under her so she could face him.

“Me too.”

“Those kids he was hanging with here are very sus, according to my secret sources.”

“Secret sources?”

She waved a hand. “Sharon’s part of the local music scene, remember? You meet all sorts. Tell me more about this new kid.”

“You’d think the stray homeless kid we found in a parking lot would be the one to worry about, and not the poor little rich kids in their McMansions.”

“You’d think, yet here we are.” She wiggled her butt deeper into the couch cushions. “And what are you going to do about his father?”

“He’s there now, actually. This is his third visit.”

“You don’t go with him?”

“I did the first time. Priory was as much of a complete snob as I remembered. But he was nice enough to Jet, I suppose. It felt like I was more of a hindrance than a help, being there.”

“How does Jet feel about all this?”

“Ask him, if you want. I’ve come to the conclusion he will tell me what he needs to tell me when he’s ready. Plus, he facetimes with Ozzy about every third day, and I think he talks to him about it.”

“And Ozzy hasn’t told you anything?”

“Why would he? It’s Jet’s therapy. None of my business.”

“That killing you?”

It was, a bit, but if he’d learned anything over the summer, it was the necessity of patience, so he shrugged. “Like I said, Jet will tell me when he’s ready. Until then, I have to stay out of it.”

“That’s very…”

“What? Very what?”

“I don’t know. Parental? Trusting.” She leaned back. “You seem… grounded.”

He studied his hands, puckered from the hot water because his gloves had holes in them, and picked at a burst blister.

She took a hand in hers. “Okay. The cleaning, not so much.”

“What do you know about the cleaning?”

She squinted at him. “Jet does not call me Auntie for nothing.”