“Yeah. But he wasn’t all bad. He’d take us for pizza.” Weekdays, especially right after work, he’d been sober and sometimes he’d be the one to pick up Milo. He’d been funny then, joking around, a nice guy in that moment. And Milo had always alternated between being skittish around him and big-time hero worship. “You loved him, and that counts for something. And he built the car with you.”

“And he went to a ton of my soccer games.” Milo exhaled hard, and I wanted to pat him like I had at the hospital, but that had been a mistake. Touching him felt too good. Too familiar. Couldn’t risk it.

“He did.” His dad had been a sports nut, particularly for soccer, waking up in the middle of the night to watch the World Cup and cheering for Italian soccer teams with names I couldn’t pronounce.

“It’s weird. Missing some things but not others. Wanting the family back together, but also knowing it wasn’t all that.” Outside, there was a rogue flurry or two. I really hoped there wasn’t snow while we were in Philly. Milo seemed weirdly antsy about driving despite being, as far as I could tell, really good at it. Like, he used his signals and changed lanes responsibly—that sort of basic stuff—but unlike the other times when I’d ridden with someone who drove a stick, the ride itself was smooth, not all jerky and bumpy, which was even more impressive given whatever was up with his leg.

“I get it. Parents are complicated.”

Milo snorted at that. “Says the guy with the perfect sitcom family.”

My hands fisted. I resented the hell out of that assumption. Milo didn’t know squat.

“April almost died last summer. That…takes a toll. Jeff, he doesn’t call home much anymore. Guess that’s how he copes. And it’s not the same as drinking, but I’ve found my mom, more than once, scrubbing the kitchen at 2:00 a.m. Dad, he’s not perfect either. Works too many hours. Doesn’t talk enough.”

That toll was a big part of why I tried to help out so much. Seeing my parents so stressed made me feel helpless, and I hated that feeling. Any amount of chores or nice deeds was worth it if it made them smile a little more.

“I’m sorry about Jeff. That sucks.” Milo had always gotten along with my older brother, who was in Bruno’s year. Now he was out in Seattle working for a tech company, and we mainly had to use social media to keep up with him. “And you’re right. I didn’t know.”