Page 119 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

Which he had, until Natalie had reminded him that her kids deserved some portion of that money, even if Myles wanted nothing to do with it.

“So?”

“So he’s protecting his son’s future.”

“From me.”

“For Jet.”

“Jesus.” Myles glared at the portraits Jet had taped to the wall, of Tris, Ozzy, the dogs, three of his little sister. Some were layered underneath the rest so that he couldn’t see the subject. “It’s fucking hard to keep hating on the guy when he’s at least trying to be decent. A little late, but at least he’s trying.”

“Not that you need my opinion here, but Myles, I strongly suggest you do this. Eventually, Jet will know you had this choice. What you decide now might, years down the line, change how he sees you forever.”

“Yeah.” Didn’t he know that. How much had he learned to hate his father when he’d sold their family farm out from under them? How much resentment had boiled in him when he’d realized he would never get the choice of living off the land his great-grandfather had struggled so hard to hold onto? How much regret had he lived with, that the last place his mother had known, where all of Myles’s own memories of her had lived, meant nothing to his father?

Or was it that it had meant too much, and his father hadn’t been able to overcome his own issues to see what his kids had needed? “Goddammit,” he whispered.

All that bitterness had shaped the person Myles grew into. It had drawn him down dark roads he’d almost not managed to find his way back from.

“I know you pay me for legal advice, Myles. But as a father of teenagers, I can tell you that autonomy is very important to them.”

“You want me to let Jet decide what to do? With this? Do you know how huge it is?”

“I think you should present him with all the options. And I do mean all of them. Including the one where you assure him you’ll support his decision. Back him up. Show him that you trust him to make good decisions. That you’ll help if he trips up.”

“All the things my father never did for me.”

“If that’s how you want to characterize it, sure. Though in my experience, framing things in a negative light tends to show you a negative picture. What about doing all the things you feel your sister would want you to do for them? She was a good mother.”

“And a good sister.”

“And that. A good friend, too.”

Myles grunted. Sometimes he forgot Natalie had been a huge part of her community, of their father’s company, before and especially after he’d died. When she enlisted someone’s help, even as a professional, she drew them into her orbit as a friend too.

Much like Lucky seemed to have a knack for doing, Natalie had made her world a safe place for Myles to recover. Without her at the centre, though, it had become less and less so for Myles. Her friends were not his friends, as it had turned out.

But here, he had the makings of a new family. And he had Steven. Going back to Calgary would be harder than admitting he’d needed help had been, because he knew the void he was going back to.

What if Priory’s place as an actual father eclipsed Myles’s place, a mere uncle? And one who had dragged Jet away from his life just so Myles wouldn’t feel so alone? Would Shelly then want her own real father too?

“Myles?”

“Leave it with me,” Myles said finally. “I have to think it over.”

“Fair enough. Though I wouldn’t leave it too long. From the sounds of things, Priory has left this a little late himself.”

“Perfect.” As if the looming start of the school year wasn’t enough of a ticking clock.

His first thought was to go to Steven, to ask his advice, to demand he tell Myles what he should do. But that was an unfair burden to put on Steven. And maybe, if he was being honest, he was afraid Steven would tell him to go back to Calgary. Or maybe, what actually frightened him was that Steven would tell him that because he didn’t care if Myles stayed or not.

“Now you’re just being stupid,” he told himself.

And yet a part of him knew if Steven gave him the smallest encouragement, he might be tempted to chuck his entire life, and the kids’ lives, for the smallest chance of… what? Could he really decide to stay with a man he’d known only for a couple of months? Wouldn’t that just be using Steven as an excuse, much like he’d used Ozzy? Or alcohol, for that matter?

He scrubbed both palms along the sides of his scalp. “Jesus, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He needed someone to talk to. Someone neutral. Uninvested.