Page 140 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Okay. Just asking if you knew about it, not what you think about it.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” There was a short pause, then: “You shouldn’t undermine their relationship, though.”

“I know. I think—I don’t know what I think. Maybe it hit him how much he has left to do in life without his mom. How much she loved him, contrasted with how Priory treats him. It really upset him.”

“This surprises you?” Tris asked, sounding slightly confused.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Well. Not me. Oh. Hey. You have that fancy lit degree, right? Huckleberry Finn. Yeah or nay for the classics shelf at the Cabin?”

“Always assuming you can get kids these days to read it, maybe a good conversation starter about why it’s extremely problematic now, but also a product of its time. I’m a huge proponent about not censoring what they read, but also about talking to them about it.”

“Hmm. I’ll put it in the maybe box. When you get back here, we can see about you leading these discussions.”

“Tris!” The sharpish note in Ozzy’s voice startled Myles almost as much as Tris’s assumption and left him more thoughtful than immediately resistant to the idea.

“When I get back?”

“Well.” Tris chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You know. To visit. I assume you’ll visit, right?”

“That is where my people are,” Myles said before he even thought about it. And hearing himself say the words out loud startled him even more. “Well, shit.”

“Don’t worry,” Tris whispered, and giggled so Myles could imagine him trying to keep the phone away from Ozzy. “We knew you’d get there in the end.”

“Whatever. Ozzy?”

“Yeah,” he called, as if from across the room.

“What did you find in Steven’s attic?”

“OMG,” Tris all but squealed. “Would you believe kittens?”

“Seriously?”

“He had to tear out half the ceiling to get to them, too.”

“Tris!” Once more, Ozzy’s tone turned sharp.

Tris didn’t seem to notice. “No mama cat, though, which was sad. But we’re looking after them at the Cabin, so—hey!”

“Gimme that, brat.” There was some crackling, then: “Myles.” Ozzy’s voice was much more immediate, as if he’d taken Myles off speaker.

“Half his ceiling?” Myles asked, his stomach churning uncomfortably for Steven’s sake.

“Listen—”

“Is he okay? Is that why he didn’t answer my call? Is he freaking out? Shit. I should be there. And he was doing so well with his plan. Where is he staying? How is he⁠—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Myles clamped his mouth shut, though the questions brimmed over and made him pace across the living room.

“He’s fine.”