Page 78 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

She patted his hand. “Of course you didn’t. Because you want to believe everything bad is within your power to prevent. When really, the only thing in your power is you.” She smiled, and it was a kind, understanding expression that warmed a ball of something that had been sitting cold and inert in his chest for a very long time. “You can’t control your house any more than you can control your siblings. Stop trying, and maybe, start listening to it.”

Around them, music flared from its general, background hum to fill the room. Strains of “Rainbow Connection” and Kermit’s nasally voice engulfed them.

“Dad used to sing this song. Like, all the time.”

Tiffany raised one eyebrow.

Steven huffed. “Yeah, okay. Message heard.”

She smiled at him. “I hope so, sweetie. I really do. People miss you.”

“You barely know me.”

“But I know your people. Your name comes up a lot.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yes. Now…” She let him go and tucked her laptop into her bag. “I have a date with my own family tonight, so I have to get going.”

“They’re here?”

“Temporarily. I’m meeting them for dinner at the Mill.” She got to her feet, strung the bag’s strap across her body and situated her crutches. “I hope you have a good rest of your evening. Thank you for letting me use your space.”

“Anytime.” He stood with her and went to the door, holding it open as she stepped out onto the porch. “And I mean that. My front room is your front room. Anytime you need it.”

“Thank you. It’s always nice to have options.”

She was right about that. Steven didn’t like to think too hard about how many options he’d cheated himself out of by opting to stay alone in this house. Or how lucky he was to have found any companionship at all, given he never left.

“I am lucky I found him,” he said softly as he shut the door behind Tiffany.

The light in the foyer flashed strobe-bright a few times before going out completely. An eerie silence echoed through the rooms.

“Okay, okay. I’m lucky you brought him here.”

The light slowly brightened, and the music began to play again, softly, as if the house was humming to itself.

Steven hummed too as he flipped the sign, pulled his phone from his pocket, and headed for his kitchen. Behind him, the front door lock clicked on its own.

“Thanks.” He patted a door frame as he meandered through.

Lights dimmed behind him and brightened ahead.

He didn’t have to watch where he was going. He knew every inch of the place down in his soul. Instead, he pulled up Myles’s number and smiled. The quick snap he’d taken earlier in the week was of Myles, his ubiquitous damp wipe in hand, cleaning his fingers after shelving some books. If his eyes remained a touch sad, they were still focused on Steven and his camera, and he had a relaxed, maybe even contented, look on his face.

Steven had a detailed memory of Myles flipping that small white square of neuroticism over his shoulder before advancing on Steven and kissing him to within an inch of Steven’s control. He had an even more vivid memory of Myles giving up that control the instant Steven had applied a small amount of return pressure. They had almost done things that should never be done in the kids’ books section or probably any section of a shop that was still open.

“Heh.” He brought up the texting app and started typing.

STEVEN: Never asked if your cooking lesson went well yesterday.

Almost immediately Myles responded.

MYLES: No signs of food poisoning yet.

STEVEN: Well done.

MYLES: We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.