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“Fun?” Elijah chuckles as I nod excitedly. “Alright, how do you feel about going to the ice rink? We’ll buy you good skates so that you can break them in for the games, and you can regain your bearings. Having a costume head on you shouldn’t be the first time you’re back on skates.”

“You’re right,” I say, grinning. “So we can go?”

“Yeah,” Theo says. “Let’s go to the one just outside of Santa Barbara that just opened up. They have two rinks. One caters to kids and the newbies, while the other is for those that are more comfortable on skates.”

“Perfect. Go tell Rachelle and Lili? They may want to bring the girls,” Elijah says.

Once Theo leaves, Elijah gazes apologetically at me as I finish my milkshake.

“What?” I ask.

“We may have to bring them,” he explains.

“And?” I ask, shrugging. “I started ice skating at about their age. I was faster on skates than on my feet. I went for fun, enjoyed it, and then started taking classes. I used to figure skate, and they’re some of my favorite memories. I just didn’t have the stamina for it anymore, and passing out isn’t conducive to wearing knives on your feet.”

“I bet it’s not,” he murmurs. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be bothered by the girls.”

“No, they’re awesome,” I say enthusiastically, beginning to pick up my glass to wash.

“I got it,” he says. At my glance, he chuckles. “I need to wash out the blender anyway.”

Accepting that, I watch as he does the dishes quickly.

“Are your pain levels always that high?” he asks.

“For my migraines? Yeah. The room spins are a bonus,” I reply. “I never know how I’m going to feel when I wake up for the day. It’s always a surprise.”

“Do you ever feel like you’d rather not wake up?” he asks, his eyes on the dishes as he dries them thoroughly.

“I never answer that question,” I tell him. “I feel like I float through life, waiting for something to end it. Everything is borrowed time, and one day, someone is going to punch my ticket.”

Elijah sets down the blender hard, but his features are neutral as he turns to face me.

“Why are you living on borrowed time?” he asks.

“Too many people have failed to kill me,” I say. “All adults, though there was an older kid at one of my foster homes who tried to put me through a wall. I think my face bothered him.”

“That’s not funny,” he protests before sighing. “Living on a deficit of time shouldn’t be something you should worry about at seventeen.”

“Maybe not. POTS can’t kill me, but it makes people really uncomfortable because I can’t be fixed,” I say. “I’m taking up space that should be reserved for⁠—”

“For what? Healthy people?” Elijah asks, snorting. “There’s a variety of different kinds of health and normalcy. I think you have a different perspective on life than most people do. When you have what you consider a ‘good’ day, you don’t want to waste a second. Most people spend entirely too much time rotting on a couch. Life should be lived, and from what I’ve seen, that’s what you’re doing.”

“I spend a lot of time in dark rooms, or trying to get my body to stop having a fit because I deigned to stand,” I say. “Not enjoying a day when I have energy feels like a crime.”

He looks like he might say something else, but the back door opens and I hear the stomping of feet.

“I hear we’re going ice skating?” Rachelle asks, grinning as she walks into the kitchen.

I can’t see the kids outside of wild hair and rosy cheeks as they’re swooped up into a parent’s arms and away from the kitchen.

“We are,” I say, sliding down until my feet touch the ground. These are really tall stools. “Are the kids getting dressed?”

“They are, and they’re also doing a potty check,” she chuckles. “It’s still a complicated dance to get out the door, but it makes things interesting.”

“I bet,” I grin. “Let me change into a long sleeved shirt since it’ll be cold at the rink, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Take your time,” Elijah chuckles. “The kids will be busy for a bit.”