He had a point. A few months ago, I probably couldn’t have. Maybe even as recently as a month ago. But these days, getting something wrong didn’t seem like the catastrophe it used to. And it definitely didn’t seem as bad as messing up and never fixing it. “I think I can handle it. Maybe I could do blog posts, too. Like, a general advice sort of thing, as well as personalized responses.”

Brougham nodded, eyes widening. “I love that. And you know, being online means you’ll have a way bigger reach, too. It could get big. Maybe Ainsley could even push you on her channel?”

“Maybe. She has been begging me to join in on a video sometime.” The more I thought about the idea, the more excited I got. This was actually achievable. And I’d been missing the letters, badly. The rush of realizing I knew exactly how to help someone. The fulfillment I got as I saw my demand increase, as word of mouth snowballed. The sense of purpose.

And the extra cash hadn’t hurt, either.

Brougham and I finished our lunch as quickly as we could, then hurried to my dad’s.

“Hey guys,” Dad said as we burst through the front door. He was sitting at the kitchen counter eating his own lunch, a turkey and pickle sandwich, because he had the same taste in food as Satan himself. “How was the race, buddy?”

“Really good,” Brougham said. “I shaved a second off my two-hundred-meter freestyle.”

“Hey, great job.” Dad held out his hand for a high-five, and Brougham met him in the middle.

After Dad adjusted to the idea of me dating a guy instead of a girl—and honestly, for a minute there it looked like Dad was adjusting to the disappointment of me dating a guy instead of a girl—Brougham and I had made a point of spending as much time with him on Dad weekends as we could. I saw Dad so little as it was that if he was ever going to have a relationship with the people in my life, we had to be kind of a package deal.

Thankfully, when Dad found out about Brougham’s commitment to swimming—the day Brougham picked me up to go see Oriella live, in fact—he revealed he’d been on the swim team back when he was in high school, which I hadn’t even known myself, and the two of them were off. Sometimes I had to tear Brougham away from talking to Dad when he came around so we could get some alone time. I got it, though. Brougham didn’t get many chances to speak to an adult who had the time of day to hear about, let alone validate, his achievements. I was hardly going to begrudge him that.

… Like now, for example.