Nick remembered coming home, still shaken from watching glossy wooden boxes lowered into the ground, and finding shattered glass everywhere. Michael had called the cops. Chris had holed up in his room to cry. Gabriel had stormed out—probably on a mission of vengeance.

Nick had cleaned up the mess.

Five years, and the memory still had the power to knock the breath out of him. “I don’t really want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said softly. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” Nick tried to shake off the emotion, but it wouldn’t loosen. “It’s a stupid thing to be upset about—I mean, we still have old memory cards and stuff. We just—we never reprinted anything. And then after they were gone, no one really felt like taking pictures of anything meaningful.”

“Your brothers weren’t into trips to Sears wearing identical sweaters?”

Nick half smiled. “No.”

Adam pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Say cheese.”

“Don’t take my—”

“Too late.” He turned it around so Nick could see.

Adam had snapped the picture before Nick had started talking, so the photo captured his mouth in a thin line. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes dark.

“Delete it,” he said.

“No way.” Adam leaned close to whisper along his jaw. “I felt like taking a picture of something meaningful.”

Nick blushed. There was a good chance he might melt right down these steps.

Adam grinned and said, “Wait, now I need another picture.”

This time, Nick let him, but then he snatched the phone out of Adam’s fingers.

“If you delete them, I’ll just have to take more.”

“I’m not deleting them.” Nick turned the phone around and took a picture of Adam. Unruly hair, crooked smile, solid grip on Nick’s heart.

He texted it to himself.

Adam took his hand and tugged. “Come on. Show me the upstairs.”

At the top of the stairs, Nick pointed at each room in turn. “Chris, Michael, Gabriel, me. And the bathroom. I told you: thrilling.”

But there was something thrilling about Adam’s being here, in the upstairs hallway, breathing the same air. Anxiety had faded, leaving only longing and contentment.

Adam started forward, and Nick expected him to head for his bedroom. But Adam went to Gabriel’s door.

Nick didn’t follow him, but he crossed his arms to lean against the wall. He didn’t want to think about Gabriel now.

“I expected your brother to be a slob,” Adam said, leaning around the door frame to peer in.

Gabriel kind of was a slob, but they’d all learned pretty quickly that if they left the place a mess, there wasn’t anyone around to pick up after them. Nick frowned. “Why?”

“Because he’s careless.”

“He’s not—”

“He is. He’s hurting you and he doesn’t even realize it.”

Nick couldn’t exactly deny that.