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“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that… I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking defeated. “My house doesn’t feel like home anymore. Maybe if they leave…”

“It still won’t feel like your house.” I throw a quick glance over my shoulder at mine before looking back at Milo. “Everything’s going to change now.”

Tears gather along Milo’s lower lashes, and unlike me, he doesn’t try to hold them back. He lets them fall, one after another, streaking down his cheeks.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I miss her. I miss her so much.”

My throat tightens at the ache in his voice, so painfully similar to my own it’s… crushing.

“I know.”

I miss mine too, I think to myself, but don’t dare say the words out loud.

While Milo seems perfectly comfortable showing me his broken pieces, I can’t find it in me to do the same.

“I hate it in there. Everyone keeps saying she’s in a better place. That she’s not suffering anymore. That she’ll always be watching over me.” He shakes his head. “I hate it.” My heart feels like someone’s reached into my chest and is squeezing it into a pulp with the way his voice breaks, uttering each word. “I don’t want her to be in a better place. I want her here. I need her here.” Milo’s tears feel like paper cuts across my skin, bleeding me out onto the sidewalk. “I need my mom, Max.” He cries. “I can’t live without my mom.”

I don’t know if it’s his pain calling out to mine, but I rush to his side, sitting on the curb, and wrap my arms around him.

Even though we’re the same age, Milo is taller than I am. He has more meat on his bones too, so I’m not surprised I’m unable to hug him all the way. Still, it doesn’t seem to bother him any, since he leans into my shoulder and cries freely, my T-shirt quickly growing damp with his tears.

“How are we going to get through this?” he sobs, holding me tightly.

“Who the fuck knows,” I reply.

Milo lets out an unexpected chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Cursing. You sound like a grown-up.”

My lips twitch just as another tear slips free.

“Yeah, well, I can curse. I’ve earned that right. And tonight, so have you.”

Milo doesn’t say anything. He just rests his head on my shoulder, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop falling.

“You know we ruined Halloween for the town today,” he says after a while.

“Who fucking cares? Halloween is overrated anyway.”

Another chuckle escapes him, but when he grows quiet again, my anxiety shoots up.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they’re right? Am I selfish for wanting my mom to have held on a little longer? Is she in a better place… away from me?”

My throat constricts as I look at him, so utterly grief-stricken. “Don’t you fucking believe a word anyone tells you. Your mom loved you.” Like mine loved me, I tell myself. “She fought as hard as she could because she didn’t want to leave you either.” My mother didn’t fight for me, but she didn’t want to die either. “Fuck anyone who tells you she’s gone to a better place. She should be here. That’s the better place. That’s the only place.”

Milo blinks away his tears, giving me a peculiar look. Probably because every word I just said goes against everything he stands for.

Milo isn’t selfish or ungrateful. He’s not rude or boisterous. He follows the rules to a T. But hearing me validating his feelings out loud must give him some sense of relief. Gives him comfort in knowing that he isn’t alone. As strange as it sounds, knowing he feels the same way I do makes me feel a little less alone too.

“Thank you,” he says, a spark of life returning to him.

“You can thank me by sending me those casseroles. I meant that shit.”