Lance looks at the list, skimming. Two parcels of luggage, and that’s all he remembers. He has no idea if there were, in fact, twelve socks and two pairs of shoes, et cetera, inside. Then, at the bottom of the column listing clothing, he sees it—“one (1) handkerchief, flowered”—and his shoulders sag in relief, to a degree he wasn’t fully anticipating.

“It looks fine,” he murmurs, and signs his name at the bottom. She nods and picks up a landline phone to call someone to unlock the gates.

Niall, predictably surly after the uncomfortable moment, isn’t smiling when Lance turns to him. This will be delicate, Lance thinks, as he switches to worrying his lip from the outside and gives Niall an apologetic smile.

“I need to go by and see my dad,” he says in a low voice. “He’s really sick. He’s in hospice care now.”

Niall’s face is completely blank, but his soft voice sounds properly apologetic. “Oh, dear. I didn’t realize.”

Lance nods. “He’s in a care home across town. I don’t…if you don’t mind, I’m really not sure I want you to see him.” He lowers his voice, as though ashamed. It’s surprisingly easy to act ashamed of himself; he has a store of that feeling, and it’s close to the surface, even if its origin has nothing to do with worrying what Niall will think of him. “Maybe you can go back to your hotel, and I’ll meet you there, after. It’s the Holiday Inn, right?” There are only two options in Dell, and Lance already knows Niall would never choose the Midnight Motel.

Lance tries not to hold his breath while Niall considers. Niall’s face is completely still, but his eyes, an ordinary medium-brown, somehow betray the volume of his thoughts. Lance knows how Niall feels about being around elderly people, and Lance has framed it so he doesn’t even have to betray a principle by not going with Lance for emotional support. The plan should be air-tight.

Still, he’s inordinately relieved when Niall nods slowly, his smile simpering. “I’ll text you my room number.” He makes a move toward Lance, and Lance braces himself for an embrace or a kiss. But then Niall’s look slides toward the woman watching them steadily from behind the plate glass, her phone apparently forgotten for the moment, and he aborts the movement. “I’ll see you soon,” he adds—very, very quietly.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Robbie

Eighteen years ago.

His dad has been dead for six months, and despite the pastor’s and everyone else’s promises that things will get easier—that they’ll be easier, any minute now—Robbie still feels either numb or terrified, all the time.

In the numb moments, he’s susceptible to his uncle’s claim that Robbie’s too young to take care of two kids. That he has his whole life ahead of him. That he should follow his girlfriend to college like he’s planned, and leave the raising of his brothers to a man who his parents hated so much that they barely spoke his name in the house, despite he and Robbie’s dad being one another’s only living relatives.