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Roy takes a swig of his beer before answering. “Same old, same old. Customers come in; I help them find what they need, then they leave.”

His tone is flat and devoid of emotion. I nod, unsure of how to respond.

I’ve never been good at these types of conversations, especially with someone as guarded as Roy.

We lapse into silence again, the only sounds being the chirping of crickets and the occasional burst of laughter from Charlie and Harrison.

“All right, boys,” Esther says with a single clap. “I think it’s time we turn in for the night.”

Robert nods in agreement. “Your mother’s right. We’ve got a big weekend ahead of us. I’m going to need everyone’s help getting everything in order.” Right before he disappears into the house, he remembers something. “Oh, and Charlie? Your list of morning chores is on the fridge.”

Charlie groans. “Aw, c’mon, Dad. I just got here. Can’t I sleep in?”

Robert chuckles. “Not a chance, son. The cows need to be milked.”

Esther turns to Roy with a concerned frown.

“Roy, honey, I’m not comfortable with you staying alone at the store with that head injury.

Why don’t we set you up in your old room?

” He starts to protest, but Esther cuts him off with a stern glare.

“I won’t take no for an answer, young man.

You need to be under observation, and that’s final. ”

“Fine, Ma,” he sighs, resigning himself to his fate. “If you insist.”

“Can I bunk with Roy?” Charlie asks. “Harrison can take my room, and Daniel can take the guest bedroom.”

“I’d actually prefer it if Daniel stays with Roy,” Esther says.

“What?” Charlie gapes. “But Roy’s my brother! And we haven’t seen each other since Christmas. Oh, which reminds me.”

He walks over to Roy and gives him a bone-crushing hug. Roy returns it with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, he’s your brother,” Esther explains, “but that also means you’ll keep him up all night. And he needs rest, not chatter.”

“Ugh, fine,” Charlie says, releasing Roy from his hold. “But the next time we all come to visit, I’m bunking with Roy.”

“Naturally,” Esther smirks, waving us inside.

Charlie shows Harrison to the guest room, and Esther grabs a few blankets and pillows from the linen closet at the end of the hall for me. After she walks away, Roy turns to me, glaring ferociously.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” he growls, sticking his thick finger in my face. “Ain’t no way we’re bunking in the same bed. ”

“That’s totally cool with me,” I tell him, hands raised in surrender. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Good,” he grunts before opening the door and walking into his room.

I follow after him and take a look around at Roy’s inner sanctum. The walls are covered with baseball posters, some of which have faded over time. A signed bat is mounted above the bed, and the bookshelf in the corner of the room is stuffed with autobiographies and trophies.

I pick up one of the trophies, a small golden figure of a player swinging a bat, and read the engraving. “MVP, Bomont Little League, 2005.” Twenty years ago. Damn, he’s old.

I feel Roy’s eyes on me as I continue to explore his room. When I glance over at him, I notice his cheeks are tinged pink. Holy shit. Is he…embarrassed?

With a scowl, he clears his throat and rummages through his dresser. He pulls out a pair of boxers and a faded shirt. Without warning, he strips off his grease-stained clothes, and I become privy to the fact that Roy is a “going commando” type of guy.

I quickly avert my gaze and busy myself with creating a makeshift bed on the floor, using the spare blankets and pillows. By the time I’m done, Roy is already in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin, fast asleep.

Unfortunately for me, darkness doesn’t come that quickly. I spend the next hour tossing and turning, unable to shake the nagging thought that’s taken up residence in my head.

Roy has a concussion. What if something happens during the night, like he stops breathing or slips into a coma?

I sit up, my heart pounding. I can’t take that risk. I have to stay awake and watch over him.

There’s a rocking chair in the corner of the room. It’s small, no doubt a relic from Roy’s childhood, and while I may end up stuck in it, it’ll have to do for now.

Quietly, I drag the chair out of the corner and position it at the foot of Roy’s bed. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminates his face. He looks peaceful, but not in a dead way. More like when you have no worries because your mind is in a dream world.

I remind myself not to be lulled into a false sense of security. I have to be vigilant.

For Esther and Robert.

For Charlie.

For myself.

As time crawls forward, my eyelids grow heavier and heavier, threatening to close and pull me into the sweet embrace of sleep. But I can’t give in. Roy’s well-being rests on my shoulders.

I pinch my thigh hard, the sharp pain jolting me back to alertness.

An hour later, my head droops, chin nearly touching my chest. I catch myself and snap it back up.

I lightly smack my face, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The sensation is jarring, but it does the trick.

For now. I know it’s only a matter of time before the exhaustion creeps back in, insidious and unrelenting.

Another hour later, in a desperate attempt to stay awake, I cross my leg over the other, squishing my balls in the process. I breathe through the pain, focusing on the discomfort. It’s a temporary solution, but I’ll take what I can get.

I study Roy’s face, searching for any signs of distress or discomfort as the hours tick on. His brow is smooth, free of the perpetual frown he wears when he’s awake. His lips are slightly parted, and the tiniest drop of drool pools in the corner.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. 3:27 a.m.

It’s going to be a very long night.