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SIXTY

Jethro

AUGUST

My suitcase is so stuffed that I have trouble zipping it up.

“You should have let me ship another box,” my sister says. “That’s going to weigh a ton.”

“Not a weakling,” I grumble, even though she’s right.

Last night we all went shopping for school supplies at Target. Toby and Shelby loaded me down with notebooks and highlighters. A dictionary and a thesaurus. I also own a new calculator and mechanical pencils.

I put my foot down, though, when Toby wanted me to buy a 3-ring binder with superheroes on it.

“They have a Detroit hockey one,” he’d said.

As if . “I don’t need a binder, kid. But you pick one out for yourself.”

My first college class in over fifteen years starts tomorrow. I’m taking just one course while I officially apply to the program. Getting my feet wet, basically.

I’ll also be taking some scouting trips for the Cougars, looking at young goalies in the junior leagues. Trying to spot the next legend in front of the net.

I can’t wait.

The suitcase finally zips shut, and I ease it onto its wheels. “All right, Shelby. The room is yours. You can break out the ruffles or whatever.”

“Ruffles?” She puts a hand on one of her bony hips and gives me a stare. “Bitch, please.”

I laugh, and her eyes sparkle.

Four weeks ago, we stood outside the women’s prison for forty minutes until the gate opened at last, and Shelby ran out. She’s painfully thin and looks older than thirty-five. But she is off drugs, going to daily NA meetings, and doing great.

Since then, she’s been sleeping on one of the bunkbeds in Toby’s room. I’d offered to bunk with my nephew and give her my bedroom, but Toby insisted he wanted her close. He’s over the moon to have her home.

“You take care of yourself,” I tell her now, and it comes out sounding stern.

“I will,” she says, her smile fading. “I promise, Jethro. And I’m going to test every week, so you won’t have to worry.”

The testing is probably humiliating, but it’s part of the program that Shelby’s lawyer has laid out so that she can legally regain custody of Toby. As of this week, my father is Toby’s emergency legal guardian. But Shelby has a plan and a new job at a coffee shop.

“Bartending pays better, but coffee-shop hours work better with Toby’s schedule,” she’d told me.

I roll my suitcase out of the room as she says, “You take care of yourself, too, doofus.”

“That’s easy,” I insist. “I’ll get plenty of sleep and eat a lot of Clay’s cooking.”

My dad is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, car keys in hand. “Ready?”

“Absolutely,” I say, trying not to look like I’m straining to carry this monster of a bag down the stairs. “Toby!”

“Yeah?” he calls from his spot in front of the TV, where he’s wringing the last few days out of summer vacation by watching a superhero movie in his PJs.

“Come say goodbye.”

The sound of the movie pauses, and he joins us in front of the door.

But my sister hugs me first. “Have a safe flight. Text us when you get home.”

“I will,” I promise. “Walk me out, Toby.”

He does, barefoot. I roll my suitcase down the walkway and then heft it into the trunk of the car where my father waits behind the wheel. As Dad starts up the car, I turn to Toby. “Look, I got something to say to you.”

“What?” He gazes at me, suddenly serious.

“You know how I call you ‘my kid,’ and not ‘my nephew,’ and sometimes people get confused?”

His forehead wrinkles. “Yeah, it’s weird.”

“Not to me,” I say with a shake of my head. “I know you got your mother back, but you’ll always be my kid. It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time. I’m really going to miss you.”

“Oh.” His eyes get soft, and then his gaze darts away.

“Maybe we don’t say it enough, but I love you,” I tell him. “And you can call me at any time, for any reason.”

He sniffs. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. I’m keeping your room the way it is, because I know you’re going to want to visit. You and your mom.”

“Yeah,” he says. And then surreptitiously wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

“Come here.” I hold out my arms, and he steps into the hug. “I know you like it here better, but there will always be a place for you in my home. That never changes.”

He takes a sniffly breath. “Bye, Jethro.”

“Bye, kid.” I give him one more squeeze, and then let go. My eyes are burning, like they used to when Clay chopped onions in our tiny apartment.

My dad beeps the horn, but I take another minute to wave to Toby one more time before he walks back into the house.

It’s a quiet drive to the airport, and my dad has a Tigers game on the radio. After he pulls up at the Delta departures area, I open my door.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing my wrist.

I pause and turn to him.

“Just want to say thanks,” he says. “It’s been a tricky couple’a years around here. But you stepped up for Toby and your sister. And you put up with me to do it.” He clears his throat. “I hope you and your guy are happy together. You deserve that.”

For a long beat I’m literally speechless. “Thanks, Dad,” I choke out eventually. “I appreciate that.”

I’m so surprised that I almost walk off without my suitcase, and my dad has to honk the horn before I remember to turn back and fetch it out of the trunk.

Five hours later, I’m watching for the damn thing to show up on the baggage carousel in the Denver airport when someone lets out a whoop.

I turn around and spot Clay jogging toward me. I only get a moment to brace myself when he leaps into my arms. “You made it!”

“Right on time,” I say, my smile slightly crooked. “You didn’t have to pick me up.” It’s a forty-minute drive.

He hip checks me. “I wanted to, Jetty. It’s still the preseason, and my schedule isn’t off the rails yet.” He steps back and scans me from head to toe with bright eyes. “You’re looking tan.”

“That’s from standing around at Little League.” One of Toby’s friends is baseball crazy, so Toby reluctantly joined his team.

“Well, it isn’t from our beach trip.” Clay snickers.

“Clearly.” We’d rented an Airbnb in Traverse City, where it proceeded to rain all four days. We’d spent all our time in bed.

“I have dinner already prepped,” Clay says just as my bag appears on the carousel.

“Hold that thought.” I lunge for the thing and drag it off the belt. “Actually, whatever your dinner plan is, I’m in. I don’t even need to hear it.”

Clay chuckles. “All right. Come on.”

He leads me to the parking structure and heaves my bag into the back of his SUV. “Christ.”

“I know. Toby made me buy school supplies.”

He bleeps the locks, and we get into the car. I wait for him to start the engine, but he doesn’t. He turns to me and pulls me into a kiss.

Aw, yeah . I kiss him back. “See? This is what I came for. Not your cooking.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, kissing me again. “Even if it’s sous vide steaks in garlic butter with French beans and scalloped potatoes?”

My stomach rumbles as he releases me. “Okay, the cooking is a close second.”

He laughs as he starts the car. “Glad to hear I’m still first,” he says. “Did I mention the chocolate mousse?”

I groan as he reverses out of the parking spot. “Drive fast.”