“You’ve got your entire life ahead of you, Neil. Don’t be so afraid to take what you think might make you happy.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” I ask her.

“But what if it does?” There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in her voice. “Isn’t it so much better to know for sure, to have what you think might make you happy, rather than let it go?”

“I …”

I don’t know. In theory, yes.

I just can’t get over this fear.

“If you don’t go for what you want, you’ll never ever get it. But if you do go for it, well … you never know what might happen.”

“It might not even matter,” I tell her. “It all depends on Wyatt.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I’ve talked to him, and we’ve not really gotten anywhere. I don’t even know what I could say to him that might start things over.”

“Well … maybe words won’t work. Have you tried showing him instead?”

“How would I do that?”

“Now, I can’t give you all the answers,” she says. “But who knows, maybe you could express your feelings better that way? You’re not exactly a wordsmith, kid.” Melanie looks at me and smiles. “I call ’em like I see ’em.”

She could be right, though. I don’t know; I wish that the answer were easier. I wish that words could be enough to show them that I’m sorry, that I want them back, that I want to undo what I did.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, and my blood freezes. Wyatt shuffles into the kitchen, dressed in a drab gray T-shirt and loose sweatpants.

“Well, good morning to you.” Melanie reaches across from me, turning on the microwave. “Mom’s at work, but we found another fourth for breakfast.”

“Mornin’.” Wyatt yawns, taking a seat at the table.

“Wyatt, Neil slept on the couch last night,” Lana says bluntly.

“Yeah, he did,” Wyatt tells her, sleep still heavy on his voice.

“Does that mean that he’s in trouble?” Lana asks. “’Cause when Mama is in trouble, Mom says that she’s going to make her sleep on the couch.”

Wyatt covers their face, but there’s no mistaking the grin plastered behind their hands.

“No, he’s not in trouble.”

Well, that’s something.

“Lana, go watch TV.”

“Okay!” Lana races back to the living room.

And just as Melanie puts the last dishes on the drying rack, she wrings out the sponge, leaving it in the sink. “Shoot, I think I left wet clothes in the washing machine.” Just like that, she strolls out of the kitchen, leaving the two of us there, mostly alone. Lana is currently distracted by princesses on the television.

I open up the microwave when it won’t stop beeping, and bring Wyatt their food before I sit down next to them.

That feels like the right move.