Page 33 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“Maybe we should go back where they know people.”

“Maybe you should stay put and give them a chance to get to know your family. You belong with your people. They belong with you. Ergo, we are their people too. Give us all a chance to know each other.”

“God, I don’t know how to do this.”

“The good thing is you are hardwired to look after people, so you have that going for you. Give the rest a bit of time, yeah?” Ozzy turned for the door. “Don’t beat yourself up, Mick. Shit. Myles. That was always your downfall. People make mistakes. Or sometimes, there is no completely right answer. You have to let it go and move forward.”

“Move forward.” How did he do that when there was no path laid out? Being a hero he understood. He had a small trove of medals to prove it. Being responsible? Not so much.

Ozzy was gone, though, and Myles listened to his footfalls retreat down the steps.

Jet and Shelly returned eventually to find Myles still seated on the edge of the bed. As Ozzy had advised, he’d unpacked again and pushed the suitcase back under the bed. He wasn’t convinced going back to Calgary wasn’t still the right thing to do, though.

Shelly, already half-asleep in Jet’s arms, gave Myles a flimsy wave and drowsy smile from her bed once Jet had settled her into it.

Which made Myles realize she already had her pajamas on, and he had no idea when that had happened. A lot of her care happened in his periphery, he realized, and if he wasn’t doing it, it fell to reason Jet was.

He should have noticed that before now. And if he’d missed something as obvious as her physical well-being, what else had he missed?

“Jet.”

Jet’s response was to glare at him, lips a flat line, eyes hidden in the shadow of his bangs.

“I’m sorry.”

Jet stared at him for a long moment. “Sure,” he said at last, then stepped behind the partition hiding the double bed from view of where Myles sat on the king. He didn’t come out before Myles heard the creaking of springs and Jet’s lamp went out.

“Perfect,” he whispered into the dark.

More thickly tense minutes rolled through the room. Myles could hear Jet’s breathing and Shelly’s soft snores. The sounds comforted him. They reminded him of the nighttime piles he’d made with Ozzy, Lucky, and various others when they lived rough. Hearing the sounds of the others surrounding him in the dark made it feel like they were all, for the moment, okay. Safe.

“You’re better at caring for her than I am,” he said after a while.

Jet made no response, but his breathing hitched, telling Myles he was still awake and could hear him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you do for her.” He didn’t have to mention he’d only just realized it. At least he had, and now he could do something about it. “In some ways, caring for her is easier than caring for you. No. ‘Easy’ maybe isn’t the right word. Simple. You help her get dressed, brush her teeth, braid her hair. All of that makes her feel loved. Seen. What you need isn’t as tangible, so maybe I overlook it too often.”

Rustling from Jet’s bed made Myles wonder if he’d sat up, rolled over or shoved his pillow over his head so he didn’t have to listen to Myles.

“Maybe helping her makes you feel like you’re doing something. Feel like you matter. I don’t want you to think you don’t matter to me. You do. I’m trained to run towards danger most people run away from. Today I did it without thinking it might not be the best thing to do. It’s something Ozzy used to always get pissed at me for.”

“I hope he ripped you a new one,” Jet spat.

It would have been easier if he had. Black and white was always easier to deal with. When things got grey, Myles got drinking. But he didn’t do that anymore. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to feel the bite.

“He didn’t have to. You had that covered.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“I know.”

Quiet drifted through the darkness. Maybe less heavy than it had been? Myles wasn’t sure.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

“You don’t have to apologize for your feelings, Jet.”

More silence.