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Before Paul is able to get close to Milo, Jennine steps in front of him and plants her hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Whatever she says to him is enough to persuade him to go back inside the house and leave Milo alone.

I don’t realize how tightly I’m gripping my pencil until the damn thing snaps in my hand.

Paul didn’t even try to check in on Milo. Even though it’s pretty fucking obvious he’s upset.

“Get back in the house, girls. I could use your help finishing dinner,” Jennine says, casting one last glance at her stepson.

“Yes, Mrs. Fletcher,” Jordan and Amber say in unison.

Peyton is the only one who refuses to move an inch, her hands still perched on her hips.

“Peyton, inside. Now.” Jennine’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Peyton’s nostrils flare, but she does as she’s told, throwing Milo one last venomous look before disappearing inside.

When everyone is back inside the house, Milo glances over his shoulder to make sure no one can interrupt him.

My porch swing rocks back and forth as I watch Milo spend the next fifteen minutes stuffing every Halloween decoration into the trash bin, carved pumpkins and all. He slaps the dust off his hands as if declaring the job done the second there isn’t a single decoration left in sight. He then walks over to the curb and takes a seat, looking like he has no desire to go back inside.

Guess that’s my cue.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath before closing my notebook and jumping out of my swing.

Milo and I may not run in the same circles, especially now that we’ve started high school, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just let him sit there, all alone, with memories that only bring him pain.

This time of year is hard for me too. If there is anyone who can relate to him and refuse to celebrate this stupid holiday, it’s me.

I walk down my front lawn and sit on the curb without saying a word. He knows I’m here. If he wants to talk, if he needs to talk, then I’m here.

Milo takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his dark curls, then meets my gaze head-on. My heart breaks at the sheer misery written all over his face.

“Hey,” he mutters.

“Hey, back.”

“So… you, um… saw that, huh?”

“Hard not to.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

A sad smile touches his lips. “I doubt my dad would agree with you.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” He bows his head.

“Okay.”

We stay like that for a few minutes in complete silence. Just sitting there and not uttering a word could feel awkward and stilted for someone else, but not to me. It works for us. Like I said, if Milo needs to talk, he will. And if he doesn’t, or just can’t, well, that’s okay too. I just want him to know that he’s not alone. Not in this. Never in this.

“He promised me they wouldn’t put anything up. He promised,” Milo finally says, staring down at his feet. “So imagine my surprise when I got home today from practice and found…” He shakes his head, his hands curling into fists before he shoves them into the pockets of his letterman jacket. His jaw works for a moment before finally continuing. “When he started dating Jennine just a couple of years after Mom…” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. “I didn’t say anything when he remarried. I didn’t. Not one damn thing. I tried to be supportive when they moved in. Tried to be a good son. But this…” He points to the large trash bin overflowing with Halloween decorations. “This is too fucking much.”

I don’t say anything to the contrary because I understand him perfectly. In fact, I always thought it was odd that Mr. Fletcher was able to remarry so quickly. But then again, some people can’t live by themselves. They need someone to take care of them. And in Mr. Fletcher’s case, he probably needed someone to take care of both him and Milo.

My dad, on the other hand, wouldn’t remarry if a willing woman landed in his lap. It will always be the two of us. Not only because he’s got me to look after him, but also because he’d never bring anyone else into our misery. The two of us are miserable enough.