Summer quietly walks to us and leans down to coax him awake. “As much as Bo is in his zone in dreamland, I’m going to wake him up to ensure he sleeps during the night. Otherwise, none of us will get shuteye.”
Her hand snakes under him and against my chest to try and lift him up. The space between all of us is far too close. Summer’s long hair feathers my arm as she scoops up Bo. The moment she is standing with her son resting his head against her shoulder and her hand swirling on his back, I feel alone.
She begins to sway as he stirs. “He’s a cuddler. It’s nearly impossible to just lie with him, you’ll always join him on his nap.”
I sit up and stretch. “I have now experienced the proof.”
“I didn’t think about dinner when I was at the store,” she mentions.
I grimace. “Probably because you didn’t go to the store.”
Her eyes travel the room to avoid me and hide her pressed smile. “Very true. A drive around the lake it was.”
I stand and choose not to begin an inquest on how her time for air was or if it helped. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Oh, I’ll probably just make a sandwich or something.”
My eyes narrow. “Is that really dinner?”
With Bo now more awake, she bounces him gently. “Well, I normally don’t cook. I don’t really have time, and it’s just easier since I’m alon—” She ends her admission because Summer probably thinks I’m going to judge.
“Alone?” I finish the sentence for her.
“Something like that. Just seems silly, that’s all. Besides, I’m so busy with Bo that I think I forget half the time,” she confesses, but as soon as she realizes, a sound pulls from her throat. “I mean…”
I raise my palm to calm her. “Relax. I’m not judging you or taking this as a point that you need someone to watch out for you like everyone seems to want,” I partly lie. I’m not going to use this as ammo, but I’m not thrilled with the fact that she takes care of herself last. Bo is resilient and happy, but that doesn’t mean that Summer can’t follow suit.
Summer rolls her lips in, aware that I’m right.
I clap my hands together. “I’ve learned to cook…” Her eyes widen, and she seems impressed. “No other option when I was playing pro. Had to watch the nutrients. Anyhow, we’ll save your taste-testing for another night. I’ll run to the deli to pick up some meals they have. Pasta, chicken?”
Summer’s eyes flutter. “Oh, I...” Then her stance turns confident. “Sure. Thanks.” Her genuine smile looks good on her. It’s honest.
“No problem.”
“Do you think you can stop by the drugstore? They were out of Bo’s bath soap, it’s this special kind of natural stuff Iget. They ordered some more the other day, and it should be in now.”
I salute her. “I will complete my mission.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Our eyes struggle to break apart. It’s these long lingering moments that are not good for us. No wonder she fled earlier to get air.
I’m waiting patientlywhile the older man behind the counter searches in the back for Summer’s order. My eyes wander around as there is something quaint about Lake Spark in that everything is a throwback to another era. My sight lands on the wall of jars that are filled with candy that you put in a bag then they weigh at the end. It always made my grandmother give us stories about when she was younger. Zac and I would always listen then wrap her around our finger to get caramel toffees. Young us were charmers and were such a team.
“Summer Nix?”
For a moment my heart flurries from the sound of that name and how my last name sounds good on her. But then my heart drops when I have to remind myself that she has the name because of my brother.
I scratch the back of my head. “Yeah, that’s her.” He hands me the bag with a post-it attached, and I clear my throat. “Uhm, yeah, thank you.”
“No problem.” He smiles brightly at me, and I give him a curt nod.
I’m quick to leave, and when I’m out the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Balancing the bag andswiping my screen when I see it’s my mom calling, I answer.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, unsure if today she is doing better than the others. My parents are also finding a routine again since Zac’s passing. It’s just, I can’t help feeling that when they talk to me, it stirs everything up. I’m the other son. The one who is alive and for the most part well. It’s especially my dad who is quite cold with me.
