Page 43 of The Edge of Summer

I abandon my mission and turn to face the front door. My brother stands by the exit, his fingers twisted around the door handle. He instantly freezes, caught in the act of sneaking out. I’m equal parts mad that he is trying to slip outunnoticed and disappointed that he is being so obvious about it. In another life, I probably would have helped him.

But that isn’t the life we live. I have a new role to play now.

I raise a brow as I cross my arms over my chest. My water can wait. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I ask.

“Out,” is his blunt reply.

I sigh. “It’s one in the morning, Parker. You can’t just goout. Especially without telling me.”

He crosses his own arms in defiance. “Watch me.”

“I won’t have you wandering the streets in the middle of the night just because you’re angry at me. You can be angry in your bedroom.”

“I’m not a little kid, Delilah. Stop treating me like one!”

I clench my jaw, trying not to lash out in response. “Parker, I?—”

“Mama!”

Parker and I both pause. We stare at one another, not entirely sure that we heard right. Then another loud cry punctures the silence and my stomach drops. Usually we have this trouble when Sophia is settling into bed. After I read her a story, she sometimes asks for our parents. It breaks my heart every time. Tonight there was none of that, and I thought things would be okay. I should have known better.

Parker and I move at the same time, ascending the stairs and heading straight for our sister’s bedroom. Although we may be at odds most of the time lately, there is one thing we will always agree on: keeping Sophia happy.

Throwing open the door, I assess her bedroom. The soft glow of the pink night light reveals Sophia hiding under hercomforter, her knees tucked up to her chest. Her face is screwed up in pain and her eyes are closed.

“Soph,” I call gently as I kneel at her side.

“Sissy?” she whispers.

I stroke her soft cheek. “It’s me, Soph. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Her eyes slowly open, and then they fill with tears. Her bottom lip quivers. “I want Mommy and Daddy.”

Her words are like a dagger to the heart. White hot pain, so piercing it would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t there already, hits me in the chest. “Sophia, I?—”

I choke on my words. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. Not when I know that I’ll never live up to them. I don’t want to. Replacing them is certainly not my intention, but just knowing that I’m not even a fraction as good at this as they were paralyzes my voice.

Parker sinks to his knees beside me. “It’s okay to miss them, Soph,” he says. “I do.”

I miss them, too.

I urge the words to leave my lips.I miss them, I miss them, I miss them. But the connection between my heart and my mouth has been severed, and I can no longer manage speaking from the deepest parts of myself. My existence has been relegated to surface level.

Parker’s eyes fall shut, and then a lone tear streaks down his cheek. Without thinking, I reach over and set my hand on his, offering him a reassuring squeeze. He doesn’t return it, but he doesn’t pull away either. Is it sad I count that a success?

When Sophia calms considerably, I read one of herfavourite books. Her eyes slowly begin to droop and her breathing evens out. Still, she manages to grip my hand when I try to leave.

“Sissy, stay,” she pleads.

I am powerless to resist her, especially after being unable to offer her comfort earlier. So I crawl into bed beside her, tucking her against my side. She snuggles into me, her body relaxing.

To my surprise, Parker stuck around through story time. Now he stands beside the bed, watching us.

“Are you still going out?” I ask him quietly. I can’t physically stop him, but I am hoping that he has changed his mind.

“No,” he eventually says.

“Parker, stay?” Sophia asks groggily.