“Found it!” Giana said, and she shoved me toward the scope. “Mars.”

I peered through, commenting on what looked like it could be an ice cap before Giana launched into an essay on the powerful snowstorms on Mars. I listened with a distant kind of awareness, leaning against the back wall of the dome and watching her work with the scope.

And I tried to make it work.

I wanted to be distracted by her, by science, by the stars and the universe. But while it should have reminded me how small my problems were, it somehow worked to do the opposite, and I found myself wondering why I’d moved so far away from my mom in the first place.

Maybe it was my fault she was searching so desperately for someone to love and take care of her, because I had been that person, and now I was gone.

My stomach twisted at the thought, even as another one chased right behind it, reminding me that she’d always been looking for a partner — ever since Dad left.

But still, I could have been there, I could have been doing more.

It was selfish of me to chase my dreams of playing in the NFL when I could have been home with her. I could have a full-time job by now, one with benefits and a decent salary. I could be taking care of her in every way she needs. At the very least, I could have gone to school somewhere close, in California, where she was just a quick drive away.

Instead, I was focused on myself.

All the thoughts and guilt warred inside me, and Giana must have seen, because her brows folded together when she looked over her shoulder at me perched against the wall.

“Come on,” she said, gathering her things. “Let’s go up to the deck.”

I followed her quietly up the stairs, and we were met with a soft, cool breeze when we reached the top of the observation deck. Giana tucked her cardigan around her more for warmth, and I slipped my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

There were a few small telescopes along the railing of the dome, but Giana didn’t go for any of them. Instead, she tossed her bag down to the side and slid down the outside of the dome to sit on the deck, patting the spot next to her for me to do the same.

“I hate that you’re this sad on your birthday,” she confessed when I sat next to her, my knees spread, elbows balanced on them, and hands clasped in-between.

I didn’t respond.

“Talk to me,” she pleaded, angling herself toward me. “Tell me what happened.”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head before I opened them again and stared at my sneakers. “Can’t,” I managed.

“Why not?”