Page 67 of Lose You Twice

He nudges my shoulder with his. “Kai there?”

I keep my eyes on the pan. “Yes.”

Holden goes quiet.

Too quiet.

I glance at him. “Don’t even start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

He shrugs, which on a sixteen-year-old boy is basically a legal statement. “Was it weird?”

“Yes.”

“Bad weird?”

Seeing him in a tight white tank top? Definitely not weird. Hot, but also embarrassing when I totally got caught checking him out, which I will not be sharing.

“No,” I say. “Not bad weird.”

By 8:30, the twins are in pajamas.

By 8:40, Daisy has asked for water, a hug, another hug, a different blanket, and confirmation that dogs can go to college. Lily wants to know if library fines affect your standing with the tooth fairy.

By 9:00, they are asleep.

Justin is still working on his poster board, but the poster has a title now and fewer glitter piles than I expected, so I count it as a win. Holden takes the trash out without being asked, which makes me suspicious until I realize he’s just tired too.

The house is finally quiet around 10:00.

I stand in the kitchen under the harsh overhead light and look at the mess.

Dishes.

Glitter.

A towel on the floor.

Daisy’s socks under the table.

I clean what I can. Dishes first. Counter. Table. Glitter, which is a lie because glitter is never really gone. It just relocates and waits for you to believe in peace.

By the time I make it to my room, I have soup on my sweater. I peel it off and toss it toward the laundry basket, and miss by two feet.

Close enough.

My clean clothes are not folded because I haven’t had time to become the kind of person who folds her own laundry before everyone else’s. I dig through the basket on my chair for something soft enough to sleep in.

My hand closes around worn cotton, and I know I’ve found what I was looking for.

Kai’s old high school hockey shirt.

The dark blue material has faded over the years from washing, MERCER in black, cracked vinyl across the back, the letters starting to peel even more near the edges. This is one habit I’ve never been able to quit, no matter how much time passed.

For a second, I am fifteen again, standing in my bedroom with this shirt pulled over my shorts, trying not to smile too hard because wearing it felt like a secret and a promise at the same time. Kai gave it to me after a game because I was cold, then acted like it was casual when we both knew it wasn’t.