Page 49

WAYLON

The long weekend in Clearwater had been on my calendar for a month. I’d promised Emmett we’d talk on the phone, FaceTime, text, and that I’d hop on a plane to see him before he had a chance to miss me. So here I was.

I was relieved that Em seemed happy and well-adjusted. He liked his new teacher and loved seeing his friends every day. My mom had signed him up for a karate class and that was going well, too.

Emmett struck a pose and delivered a sideways kick with a comical, “Hi-ya!”

I cheered him on, played video games till my fingers cramped, debated Pokémon characters’ best attributes, and watched Toy Story and Iron Giant, wiping Em’s tears at the weepy parts.

And Emmett was…Emmett. He was spirited, funny, and had an endless supply of energy.

“That boy loves you,” Mom commented, drying her hands as she eyed him from the kitchen window, painstakingly arranged pieces of a kite on the lawn.

Em had said he’d never flown a kite. I’d said that was hard to believe since I knew there was one in the garage. Mom had said it was long gone. Dad had said he didn’t remember ever throwing it away. That had been Emmett’s cue to start hunting. He’d found it partially hidden behind rusty canisters of motor oil and paint that should have been disposed of years ago.

I applauded my nephew’s determination, but the episode was one of many that had me worryin’ about my folks. They were retirees with low endurance, poor vision, and two bum knees between them. They loved watching Jeopardy, Murder She Wrote reruns, and baking shows and didn’t know which YouTube channels were kid friendly. They worried about the younger generations rotting their brains on social media while they scrolled through countless puppy videos on TikTok.

Look, I didn’t know jack shit about raising kids, and my mom and dad were amazing parents. We’d had some rough chapters as a family, but they’d been attentive, firm when necessary, loving, supportive, and accepting of my sister and me.

Hell, my dad was a recovering alcoholic with twenty-five years of sobriety under his belt. They knew life could be tough.

They might have been a little confused about my bisexuality, but my explanation that I might want to bring home a guy for them to meet instead of a girl hadn’t bothered them.

My sister’s battle with substance abuse was definitely a problem, however they’d never wavered in their support of her either. As for Emmett, they’d stepped up and taken on the role of parents-slash-grandparents in Misty’s absence while I’d paid for…everything.

We were making shit work, and the kid was happy, but…something still didn’t feel right. Mom and Dad were tired, Misty wasn’t out of the woods, and Emmett was a little unmoored. Don’t get me wrong. He knew he was loved. It was more a matter of not having a stable sense of place.

“I love him too,” I said automatically. “That kite is never going to get off the ground. You know that, right?”

Mom huffed a laugh. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, sugar.”

“You say that about everything,” I groused.

“That’s ’cause I’ve learned it’s best to stay positive and keep a sunny disposition.” She tossed the dish towel onto the brown-tiled countertop decorated with rooster canisters filled with flour, sugar, and stale Keebler cookies. “You’re lookin’ good. How’s that new job treatin’ you?”

“Fine. I like the people. Some are easier to work with than others, but that’s life.” I told her about Artie, the missing screws, and my niggling suspicion that he was messing with me. “I betcha they were hidden under a stack of ladders or behind a bunch of empty boxes. They’ll magically turn up the day I give my notice. I hope he’s in it for the long game. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

Mom’s smile dimmed slightly. She glanced out the window, nodding to herself. “I know. I know.”

“Is something wrong, Ma?”

“No, no. Everything’s all right. Sit for a minute and let me get you some sweet tea.”

It was so tempting to let her change the topic, but I pressed anyway. Better to know what I was dealing with while I was here and could maybe do something about it.

“What is it? Do you need money or⁠—”

“No. You do enough, Way. You oughta be thinking about yourself now. Settling down and starting a family of your own. You shouldn’t be frettin’ about us. I feel like we’re holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” I huffed. “I want to help. How’s Misty doin’?”

“Fine,” she hedged.

“Did she have a relapse?”

“No, no. She’s doing well, but she struggles with Emmett.”

“Emmett? He’s the easiest kid in the universe. How could anyone struggle with him?”