Page 28 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

Steven hissed through his teeth as Myles cleaned the last cut. “You like the Oaks?” he asked through a tight jaw after a moment.

Myles shrugged but thought about it. “It’s interesting. Not the kind of place I ever expected to find Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“When I met him, he was a teenager. Knew everything. Tried everything. Got himself into more trouble than a pig in a slaughterhouse.”

“Wow. That’s an analogy.”

Myles grinned up at him. “Farm boy.” He jerked a thumb at his chest. “At least, that’s where I started out.”

“Started out?”

Myles shrugged. “Grew up on a pig farm. Hit high school and knew I wasn’t staying in butt-fuck nowhere. Due to the lack of actual butt-fucking, you see.”

Steven snorted.

“So soon as I was old enough, I signed up. Couple tours in the army. That’s how I know Ozzy. More time than I like to think about with no home at all. Where I met Lucky. Then rehab, my sister’s place for a couple years, and now here.” It was a condensed version, and it left out a lot of the heartache between middle school and the army, but this wasn’t the venue for that kind of soul-baring.

“With your sister’s kids.”

Myles winced and may have squeezed the bandage to Steven’s finger slightly harder than he’d intended.

Steven hissed.

“Sorry. Yeah. She died. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He patted the last Band-Aid into place and sat back on his heels. “But life keeps on keeping on, so… Thought it would be good to get the kids away from the house where their mom passed, and out of the city for a while. Give them a clean break, see what’s next. So here we are.”

Steven raised his injured hand a few inches. “Lucky me, then.” He smiled, and a pink flush dusted his cheeks.

“Glad I could help.”

A flop of hair fell into Steven’s eyes, and without thinking, Myles reached up and brushed it aside.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Sure.” His eyes were so blue. Almost enough distraction to keep Myles from fixating on his lips as Steven’s tongue darted out to dampen them.

Outside a door slammed, and a voice rose in sharp anxiety.

Steven jolted, and Myles almost went back on his ass, saved only by Steven’s surprisingly strong grip on his forearm.

“Jake,” Steven said. “I should—” He jerked a thumb at the back door.

“Yeah, of course.” Myles scuttled back and rose. “Go ahead. I’ll tidy this up.” He waved at the table strewn with discarded packaging and bloodied gauze. “Maybe keep him out there until I clear up the blood?”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I don’t mind.” Myles plucked the cloth from the back of Steven’s neck as he stood, replacing it with his hand when Steven shivered. “Look after your brother. Let me clean this up.”

Steven nodded, the pink in his cheeks deepening. He ducked his head and squinted at the rug in front of the door. “Thanks.” He turned to face the door, reaching, hesitating, then drawing his hand back.

Myles heard something about the midnight sun—more Robert Service, he suspected—then the door creaked open, and Steven straightened his spine. “Be right back.” He stepped outside, chin high, back tight, like he was walking into enemy territory.

Left with the detritus of the wound cleaning, Myles tried not to imagine himself posting up at Steven’s back for support. This wasn’t the street, it was Steven’s backyard. And Steven wasn’t a barely-adult, he was a grown man. He didn’t need a practical stranger getting protective over him.