Chapter 7 #2
Which made Myles realize she already had her pajamas on, and he had no idea when that had happened. A lot of her care happened in his periphery, he realized, and if he wasn’t doing it, it fell to reason Jet was.
He should have noticed that before now. And if he’d missed something as obvious as her physical well-being, what else had he missed?
“Jet.”
Jet’s response was to glare at him, lips a flat line, eyes hidden in the shadow of his bangs.
“I’m sorry.”
Jet stared at him for a long moment. “Sure,” he said at last, then stepped behind the partition hiding the double bed from view of where Myles sat on the king. He didn’t come out before Myles heard the creaking of springs and Jet’s lamp went out.
“Perfect,” he whispered into the dark.
More thickly tense minutes rolled through the room.
Myles could hear Jet’s breathing and Shelly’s soft snores.
The sounds comforted him. They reminded him of the nighttime piles he’d made with Ozzy, Lucky, and various others when they lived rough.
Hearing the sounds of the others surrounding him in the dark made it feel like they were all, for the moment, okay. Safe.
“You’re better at caring for her than I am,” he said after a while.
Jet made no response, but his breathing hitched, telling Myles he was still awake and could hear him.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you do for her.
” He didn’t have to mention he’d only just realized it.
At least he had, and now he could do something about it.
“In some ways, caring for her is easier than caring for you. No. ‘Easy’ maybe isn’t the right word.
Simple. You help her get dressed, brush her teeth, braid her hair.
All of that makes her feel loved. Seen. What you need isn’t as tangible, so maybe I overlook it too often. ”
Rustling from Jet’s bed made Myles wonder if he’d sat up, rolled over or shoved his pillow over his head so he didn’t have to listen to Myles.
“Maybe helping her makes you feel like you’re doing something.
Feel like you matter. I don’t want you to think you don’t matter to me.
You do. I’m trained to run towards danger most people run away from.
Today I did it without thinking it might not be the best thing to do.
It’s something Ozzy used to always get pissed at me for. ”
“I hope he ripped you a new one,” Jet spat.
It would have been easier if he had. Black and white was always easier to deal with. When things got grey, Myles got drinking. But he didn’t do that anymore. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to feel the bite.
“He didn’t have to. You had that covered.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“I know.”
Quiet drifted through the darkness. Maybe less heavy than it had been? Myles wasn’t sure.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your feelings, Jet.”
More silence.
Overhead, beams creaked, like a ripple of tension passing through the house.
Jet’s light snapped on. There was more rustling, and his screen wobbled as he pushed it to one side. He stared at Myles. “Sorry I hit you,” he mumbled.
Myles nodded. “I appreciate that. I understand why you did, but I appreciate you know it wasn’t the best way to express yourself.”
Jet shrugged and shoved hair out of his face.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You scared Shelly.”
Myles quirked his lips up. “Jet, you know being scared is okay, right?”
He glowered.
“I’m scared every time she looks up at me and calls me My-my.
I have no idea what I’m doing. That you can take her hand and she just…
goes along. I’ll never be that for her the way you are, and I don’t know how you do it.
You might have been scared about the sounds of gunfire—which by the way, it was a door slamming. ”
“I know that. Now.”
“But you didn’t at the time, and neither did I, and that’s why it freaked you out, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a natural thing to be scared of. I’m scared of a six-year-old.”
Jet snickered, scrubbed the expression off his face, then snickered again. “She’s terrifying. I don’t blame you.”
“But you deal with it. That’s not nothing, and I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
When Jet looked over at him this time, there was less anger in his expression. “So we need each other.” His tone was flat, hard, demanding an answer.
“Hundred per cent, we do.”
“So stop running away from us.”
Myles nodded.
“That includes about coming here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You ran away from home because you couldn’t face Mom’s gone. It isn’t about getting us some space, it’s about you feeling better.”
“Can it be a bit about both?”
“Maybe.”
“Ozzy reminded me of something tonight.”
“What?”
“That this is my family. Tonight, I was on the edge of running back to Calgary with you guys, but he reminded me that my family is here. If these are my people, and you’re my people, then maybe this trip is as much about you and Shelly getting to know them as anything else.”
“And if we don’t like them?”
Myles snapped his head up from where he’d been studying the pattern on one of the throw rugs. He peered at Jet, watching him from the halo of light his lamp made around his tousled head. “Don’t you?”
Jet shrugged. “They’re all right, I guess.”
Myles made a concerted effort and managed not to smirk. “You know, tonight also made me realize that I do have to make some kind of arrangement for if something happens to me.”
“You’re not going to run into any more gunfire,” Jet said fiercely.
“No. I’m not. But we don’t know the future, and we need a plan.”
Again, Jet shrugged. “There’s Auntie Pat.” He frowned. “But she’s kind of a nomad.”
“Kind of.”
“Lucky’s got a lot going on here. He’s not going anyplace.”
“He does seem pretty settled.”
“Tris is kinda cool.” He hitched a shoulder. “For a grown-up. Rod’s all right.”
The fact Jet thought of Tris as a grown-up only emphasised how very young he actually was, despite how hard he tried to seem fully grown. Not that Tris wasn’t an adult. He was almost as old as Steven, after all. But he still seemed so very young to Myles.
“So this isn’t the worst place ever, and these aren’t the worst people you’ve met in your life.”
“Ha, ha.”
“I’ll talk to Lucky and Kreed,” Myles said, more to himself. “We need a plan.”
A warm brush of a breeze fluttered across his cheek, ruffled his hair in almost the exact way Natalie used to fluff his waves before he’d started keeping it military short.
He smiled to himself. Maybe he’d wait a bit and not shave it so short for a while. See how it felt.
Across the room, Jet nodded but didn’t say anything. At least he wasn’t completely averse to the idea of giving Lucky, Kreed and the rest some sort of family-adjacent status.
They watched each other through the dimness while the house settled around them.
“I’m going to bed now,” Jet finally said. “Can you… not go back down any more tonight?”
“Sure.” He was here now, and his hip ached from the earlier exertion, making the thought of hobbling down the stairs unpleasant. It cost him nothing to give Jet the answer he would never admit he wanted, though, without making it about anything else.
“Thanks.” Jet flashed him a stiff smile, then flopped onto his back, yanked his covers up and turned out his lamp again. “Night, Uncle My-my.”
Myles snorted. “Night, Jet.”
It might not be the hug-it-out moment Natalie would have wanted for them, but it was something. A start. He hoped they’d get to the hugging not fuelled by anger some day.