“Put me down!” Joe groaned.

Trenton hopped, readjusting Joe on his shoulder. “I’m going to take him to the lobby before he freezes to death.”

“You need help?” Thomas asked. “How’s the arm?”

“A little stiff,” Trenton said. He winked. “I barely notice when I’m drunk.”

“See you tomorrow,” Thomas said.

“Love you, bro,” Trenton said, turning for the entrance.

Thomas’s eyebrows pulled in, and he looked down.

I touched his arm. “We’re ready,” I said to Taylor.

“Okay,” Taylor said. “No problem. Travis already left. What a piss biscuit he’s turned into.”

We returned to the car, and Taylor drove through town, turning down various streets, until he turned into a narrow gravel drive. The headlights illuminated a modest white house with a red porch and a dirty screen door.

Thomas opened my door, but he didn’t take my hand. He took all the luggage from Taylor and made his way to the house, glancing back just once to make sure I was following.

“Dad and Trent cleaned up everyone’s rooms for the occasion. You can sleep in your old room.”

“Great,” Thomas said.

The screen door complained when Taylor pulled it open, and then he turned the knob to the front door, walking through.

“Your dad doesn’t lock his door when he leaves?” I asked as we followed Taylor into the house.

Thomas shook his head. “This isn’t Chicago.”

I followed him inside. The furniture was as worn as the carpet, and the air carried a hint of mildew, bacon grease, and stale smoke.

“Good night,” Taylor said. “My flight is early. Is yours?”

Thomas nodded.

Taylor hugged him. “See you in the morning then. I’ll probably leave around five. Trav said I could take the Camry since he’s riding with Shep.” He began to walk down the hall and then turned around. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?” Thomas said.

“It’s cool seeing you twice in one year.”

He disappeared down the hall, and Thomas looked down and sighed.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to make you feel—”

“I know,” Thomas said. He looked up at the ceiling. “We’re up there.”

I nodded, following Thomas up the wooden stairs. They creaked under our feet, singing a bittersweet song of Thomas’s return. Faded pictures hung on the walls, all featuring the same platinum-haired boy I’d seen in Thomas’s condo. Then, I saw a picture of his parents, and I gasped. It looked like Travis sitting with a female version of Thomas. He had his mother’s eyes. He bore all her features but her jaw and long hair. She was stunning, so young and full of life. It was hard to imagine her being so ill.