Noah nods and murmurs, “Okay,” and motions for me to come with him. I turn back to look at Gramps, and I don’t even recognize him right now. I follow Noah up the stairs, but I can still hear them as Noah walks me to my bedroom.

“Why don’t you just ship me off to an old folks’ home and be done with it?” Gramps’s voice is muffled, but I can still pick up this sharp bite to his words. “Isn’t that where this is all leading anyway?”

“Don’t say that,” Mama scolds.

“That’s not what anyone wants,” Mom says. “What we want is to make this work, but you’ve got to—”

“Forget it,” Gramps interrupts. “I’m going to my room, if that’s okay with you. I’m sorry, the guest room.”

“Ed . . .” Mama calls after him, just as Mom is saying, “Dad, come back!”

But there’s no response.

I climb into bed, and Noah even comes in and picks my blankets up off the floor from when they fell in the commotion.

“Noah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared.”

He looks at me, and in this moment there’s no trace of his mean older-brother-bully self. He’s just him again, and I know he understands because I can see in his eyes that he’s scared too, even if he tries to act brave and tough.

“Want me to stay in here with you?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s sitting down on the partially deflated air mattress that I never put away after Macy slept over.

“Thanks, Noah,” I whisper, as I lie down.

I hear Dewey bark outside. I try to fall back asleep, but even though it’s silent, I can still hear the sound of Gramps yelling, the sounds of that alarm echoing in my ears.

Chapter 25

THE MONDAYS (TIMES A MILLION)

When I come downstairs the next morning, Gramps is sitting in the living room with a mug of coffee, and the newspaper spread open in front of his face. Normally, I’d go sit next to him. But today doesn’t feel normal.

I take a seat at the table and pour myself some cereal, watching Gramps out of the corner of my eye. Noah sits down next to me, gives me a half smile and a “Hey.”

No jokes or mean remarks. Just “hey.”

I respond with my own half smile.

“It’s like last night never even happened,” Mom whispers to Mama as she walks behind her to reach into the fridge for her half-and-half.

“Yep,” Mama murmurs back.

I want to act like it never happened either.