Page 56 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“I didn’t bring you a coffee,” he said, hefting the basket awkwardly. Because that was the most important takeaway here.

“No worries.” She held up an identical stainless-steel cup to the ones in his basket. “Already been and done that. Steven’s upstairs.”

“I’ll just—” He pointed at the next room with its centre arrangement of furniture where they had been working the night before. “Wait, I guess.”

“Oh no. He said to send you up when you got here.”

“Send me up.” An immediate image of Steven lounging in a king-sized bed invaded his brain. The idea of the tall trees outside the windows peering in did not help him banish it in the least. “Really?”

Her grin just got wider. “I don’t know what you just imagined, but that shade of red is not altogether bad on you.”

“I—shit.”

“Stop. Take a breath. He’s in the sitting room at the top of the stairs.”

“I don’t quite know why I’m…” Pulling in a deep breath, Myles shook himself and offered a less than confident smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have that feeling now and then, don’t we?”

He nodded. “I guess so, yeah.” But no, he’d never had it within living memory. In the way back? Before deployments and street living and booze? Maybe. But everything from before was a haze, and this giddy, wibbling stomach and uncertainty wasn’t how he saw himself.

“Go on up. And be gentle with him. And with you. You’re not the only one who’s nervous, yeah?”

“That should be a relief, right?”

She shrugged. “Should it?”

Gazing at the door leading through to the kitchen and the stairs, Myles squared his shoulders, gripped the basket tighter, and eased out a long breath. “No idea.”

“All the way up,” she called after him as he pushed through the door.

The kitchen he found himself in was the same one he’d already been in, but now, on his own there without Steven to distract him, he saw beneath the glamour that Steven had wrapped around the public rooms of the old building.

The space wasn’t dirty. Every surface was wiped clean. The floor itself was spotless, the rugs at each entrance laying flat and tidy. Stacks of tea boxes, cereal bags, and spices were neatly arranged along the back of the counter. However, even if the piles were neat, they were prominent. The corners of the room had their own mini hoards. Mops and brooms in the one behind the door, overflowing laundry baskets near the table, and tied plastic bags that looked like they were filled with pop cans in another.

Nothing was even messy, really, but there was an air of neglect around the edges of the room, like Steven had stopped seeing the parts of it he didn’t actively use. Natalie’s kitchen had begun to look like this when she’d grown too sick to maintain it the way she liked. It had taken Myles days to clean out her corners. This looked like it might take a bit longer.

Forcing himself to look away from what was not really his business, he turned to the stairs and started up.

Each stair had another miniature pile along the edge. Neatly folded towels, shoes lined up along the wall, stacks of books, even a few ragged pairs of bunny slippers no longer fit to wear. Carefully, Myles navigated the clear path up the middle.

As Stephanie had predicted, Myles found Steven sitting on a sofa tucked under an eave on the top floor.

Around him, once more, the room carried an air of neglect and clutter dropped and forgotten.

“Hey there,” Myles said as he took the last step, forcing himself to look at Steven and ignore the rest.

Steven pulled the blanket over his knees a little higher as he turned his head. “Hi.” Were his cheeks more pale than normal?

“How are you?” Myles held up the basket. “I brought coffee. And treats.”

“That’s great.”

“What’s wrong?” Hurrying across the room, Myles sank onto the other end of the couch, dropping the basket onto the floor at his feet and resting a hand on Steven’s shin. “What can I do?”

“Why would you think anything is wrong?” Steven shifted his foot so Myles’s hand hovered in the air for the split second before he let it fall.

“I—” Myles focused his attention on the basket. “Sorry. Nothing. Here.” He pulled out one of the mugs and handed it over. “This one’s for you. And there are cookies⁠—”