Page 95 of Lose You Twice

“I’m here,” a voice says from the stairs. “And this one is dressed and ready to go. Lily still needs to change, unless you want her wearing a tutu.”

Wren looks up at Lily, finally realizing what she’s wearing. “All right, come on, Lil, let’s go get you changed.”

Wren rushes back up the stairs, ushering Lily back into her bedroom to find a different outfit. My gaze must linger after her a beat too long as Holden clears his throat.

Right.

I turn to him. “What has to happen before everyone leaves?”

He nods toward the kitchen. “Toast is probably dead. Twins need breakfast, shoes, and their library folders. Justin and I are leaving in five. Our friend’s dad drops him off a little earlier than we normally go, but it’s the only thing that worked out.”

“Lunches?”

His mouth tightens. “Usually Wren does them. I can⁠—”

“I got it, Holden. Just tell me what they normally have in them, and you guys are good to go. I can handle it. Do you and Justin have lunch or lunch money?

He looks at me then.

Really looks.

For a second, I see the weight under his eyes. Too much for sixteen. He’s trying to be useful without becoming a problem, which means he has already learned hard lessons too young.

I know something about that.

Holden nods once. “Lunch boxes are on the counter. Daisy hates crusts. Lily says she hates crusts but will eat them if Daisy doesn’t know. They both absolutely hate mustard, and both prefer ham over the turkey, depending on what we have left. If we don’t have meat, just do PB and J.”

“Got it.”

His mouth twitches. “You sure?”

“Yes. Now what about you and Justin?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I think we’re good. I can eat after school if we get into a pinch.”

I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, fishing out my wallet before handing him two twenties. He looks like he won’t take it, so I cut him off before he can refuse.

“Look, I know how hard you have to work at practice. You will never be at your best on an empty stomach, and it won’t do anyone here any favors if you aren’t on your A game. And if you’re anything like your sister when you get hungry, I’m taking mercy on all of those that are around you throughout the day.”

That gets half a smile out of him.

He takes the money, putting it into his pocket. “Thanks, man.”

With that, I get to work.

It’s easier once there are tasks. A kitchen full of too many sounds and too much color becomes manageable if I sort it into steps. Burned toast into the trash. New toast down. Lunch boxes open. Sandwiches. Fruit. Granola bars. Water bottles. Napkins. Check. Recheck.

The kitchen is not organized the way I would organize it. Nothing is. Bread is in one cabinet, peanut butter in another, fruit snacks in a basket on top of the fridge like someone once tried to hide them and gave up halfway. The scissors are in a drawer with batteries, hair ties, tape, and one tiny plastic horse.

I find what I need anyway.

Partly because Holden knows where everything is.

Partly because I remember this kitchen.

Not exactly like this. There are different magnets on the fridge now, more bills tucked under one clip, fewer family photos since most of them had their dad in them, but the bones are the same. Same sink under the window. Same cabinet that doesn’t close unless you lift it first. Same table where Wren used to sit with her knees tucked under her, stealing fries from my plate while pretending she wasn’t hungry.

I push that memory aside and cut the crusts off the twins’ sandwiches.