You weren’t sure what to do next. You didn’t want your mother to see you this way—she was upset enough when you got drunk at your graduation, even with everyone passing it off as an anomaly—so you visited various friends, frat brothers, even a couple of the mosquito-bite girls, trying not to wear out your welcome, though you always did. You bulldozed everything and everyone in your path, and your charm wore thin when you vomited on carpets and emptied fathers’ liquor cabinets. Finally, one night on the phone, your dad said to you, “You’re not doing anything this summer, are you, son?” And so, gritting your teeth, taking a swift swig from the flask you stow in the glove compartment, you pointed your car toward Pine Rapids, the old hometown you’d left behind, a couple of lifetimes ago.

“Hello? JJ?” came the voice from downstairs.

He opened his eyes, his heart racing when he recognized the voice. Shit, he thought, worried he hadn’t had enough to drink yet to make him pleasant company. He sat up, and brought the bottle to his lips again for a couple of quick, burning swallows. He felt better as the warmth spread in his gut.

“JJ? Are you up there? Are you all right?” she called.

He put the bottle down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Be down in a minute!” he called. His voice came out hoarse, anxious. He cursed under his breath as he extricated his leg and his stump from the sheet that had twisted around him in his sleep.

He started down the stairs fifteen minutes later, having brushed his teeth, washed his face, slicked back his hair, washed and wrapped his stump, put on his leg, and dressed. He hoped he smelled all right. He wished he’d had time to shave, even bathe, but he didn’t want her to worry, so he had hurried.

When he’d first arrived at his grandparents’ place, he had resented the intrusion of her presence. He didn’t want anything to do with her—with anyone. Or with the house, for that matter. He simply had nowhere else to go, and it was convenient to couch his presence here as a favor for his dad. He liked at least to try to look like a good guy for his family, and figured it was best to stay at a distance, to keep up the illusion. Coming to Pine Rapids to “look after the house” was the perfect charade.

But late last week, she’d actually inspired him. Maybe he could make a little difference. So he got the broken window checked out. He cleaned the bathroom, and himself. He started to realize: He loved this old house. Grandma and Grandpa’s. It bothered him, what had happened. He wished he could make it right, or at least start over, and make the house come to life again.