Page 114 of Goode Tidings

"Let's start with water," I remind my brother. He has a long history of taking Oliver out for outlandish sweet treats and returning him home on a monumental sugar high.

Klein disappears.

"You gave me a pretty good scare," I tell Oliver, leaning down to hug him. My nose presses to that space at the crown of his head, where he still smells like a little boy. Except this time, he doesn't. Blame it on the camping, the hospital, changing hormones, or a combination of all three.

The backs of my eyes burn, but I don't want to cry now. I'll cry later, when the stress of the day can finally take over.

"Do you know what happened?" I ask, dragging a chair next to his bedside.

"Appendicitis," he answers. "Hurt so bad. Worse than oysters."

A year ago, Oliver decided to be adventurous at a restaurant and paid for it with a case of severe food poisoning. Instead of flying to Las Vegas for Klein and Paisley's joint bachelor and bachelorette parties, I was with Oliver at an urgent care that offered IV fluids, and they'd also administered medicine to ease the painful cramping. That was a rough couple of days, but this experience has been worse. Shorter in duration, but scarier.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," I say to Oliver. It's an odd feeling, accepting that Oliver will have painful life experiences and I might be powerless to stop them.

"Callum saved the day," Oliver says. His voice is a little slow. Thick.

"He did."

"Date him. If you want. He makes you happy." Oliver blinks heavily. "Hearts in his eyes when he looks at you. Gross, but cool."

I hold back a laugh. "I'm glad I have your permission."

Oliver closes his eyes and rests. I text Callum.

Hey.

How's Oliver?

I smile at the screen. I like the way he cares for my son.

He's doing well. Resting now. Still coming out of the anesthesia.

Still no sign of Justin.

I guess he's taking seeing us together pretty hard.

It's not you. Or us. It's me.

Why?

I think he has a lot of unresolved feelings from the time when our parents were married.

How did I not know any of this? He's never mentioned it.

Hiding from painful experiences is easy. Keeping them buried is more difficult. I think I shed light on what he's tried to hide from.

Do you know what old stuff he's upset about?

To an extent. But I'm not one hundred percent sure.

Any chance you can work on that with him?

I will absolutely try.

I know it's the last thing you want to do.

I'm not super excited about it, but it might make him a better father, and I'll do anything to see that happen.