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“Um. Thanks.” I awkwardly take the bottle from him.

“No problem, Josie. Glad to finally catch up with you.”

“Glad? Why? What do you want?”

He presses a button on the machine again, followed by another thud.

“I still can’t believe you’re here. I knew you left town with Sly for a trip or something, and I was worried we wouldn’t get to catch up with you.” He hands me a red cream soda. “You’ve grown up.”

I turn my palms up with a bottle in each hand. “Well, yeah. I guess that happens when you’ve been exiled for a decade.”

He winces, and the clear remorse catches me off guard, but not as much as what he says next.

“Josie, I’m sorry.” He lets out a resigned sigh. “We’re sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have taken things out on you. You were only a kid. We shouldn’t have blamed you for anything your parents did. We should have made sure you knew that too and not let Brandon think it was funny or okay to take it out on you.” The machine beeps, asking to make another selection. He presses a button, and another bottle thuds to the bottom, but I barely notice. I don’t know what to say because that apology thaws one of the last frozen, locked-away parts of the resentment I’ve had toward my hometown.

“We?” I ask, my voice betraying my mind that can’t decide whether to be confused or indignant right now. There are so many things I want to unload on him—so many things I’ve wanted to say to my former neighbor and favorite teacher. The problem is that none of it feels significant anymore, holding onto the anger doesn’t help me now.

If Sly opening my heart up taught me anything, maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s because I’ve got two best friends now, thanks to having Sisi back in my life, or maybe it’s because being in a hospital has a way of putting things into perspective.

I notice the lines at the corners of his eyes, and the bags under them. “Wait, why are you here? Where’s Anne?”

“Oh, she’s here.” He tips his chin toward the hall that he presumably came down. “We volunteer a couple of nights a week.”

Remembering the kind of people he and his wife were before turning their backs on my family, that makes sense. They always cared about this town and its people. Maybe in hindsight, that’s partly why they resented my parents so much.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I grab for it, but fumble it to the ground. Mr. Stein reaches for it as well, and instead of either of us securing it, it falls to the floor.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry again.” He shakes his head, bending down to pick it up. “Dammit, I’m swearing in front of a student.”

“Mr. Stein, I’m twenty-eight now and swear like a sailor most of the time. Relax.” A nervous laugh works its way out. “I guess volunteering is why you’re so familiar with my archenemy here, and his picky taste in money.”

This time, he’s the one who laughs, and it feels like the tension between us completely fades.

“Oh, yeah. This thing’s an ancient piece of shi—I mean a piece of ju—.” I arch a brow, and he laughs. “Okay, it’s a piece of shit.”

I laugh before an awkward silence falls between us. “Well, thank you for apologizing,” I say, and hold up the bottles, “and for the sodas.”

The corners of his mouth tug up into that same kind smile I remember. “Of course. I also meant to say, and you can tell me to screw off, but if you’re around for much longer, Anne would love for you to come by. We’re still at the same place. I think you know how to find us.”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll see what I have going on, but I can try.”

Something over my shoulder catches his eye, and he slaps his thighs. “Well, I should get back. It was good seeing you, Josie. I hope you stop by.”

Just as he turns the corner, a hand wraps around my waist, and I’m enveloped in a warmth I could never forget.

“What the fuck did he want?” Sly’s voice is a low growl in my ear as he stands by my side.

I shake my head. “He was actually nice.” I hold up a soda and hand it to him. “He got these for you and Eddie.”

He lets out a contemplative huff, and I reach down to grab the last soda from the machine.

“You really haven’t talked to him in ten years?” I turn to face him, but his hand doesn’t leave my waist—which is fine with me.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”