His eyes narrow in confusion. “But my ears are working.”

“I know they are. But I meant, like, don’t tell anyone what I said.”

He tilts his head, looking even more confused. “But that’s not what you said. You told me I didn’t hear a word you said, but I did hear them. All of them. You said you told Becca you wanted to kiss her.”

“I know that’s what I said, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Is this another one of those finger of peaches?”

With a smile, I say, “Exactly.”

Nodding slowly, Tommy’s eyes shift around the room. Then he shrugs and bites down on a spoonful of cereal. “Who was that angry man?” he asks, milk trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“That was Becca’s dad.”

“Why was he banging on the door like that?”

I take a sip of my coffee and shrug. “I have no idea, buddy. He probably couldn’t find Becca and got scared.”

“Like you, when you couldn’t find Ma’am last time?” Last time are his new favorite words—the ones he overuses to the point of wanting to scrub my ears clean with steel wool. They change every couple of months, thank God. Last month it was in your butt.

I lean my forearms on the counter. “Yeah. Like that.”

“When can I see Ma’am?”

“Soon.”

“Is she going to be deaded, like Pa?”

“No, bud.” I say quickly, shaking my head. I look him in the eyes—eyes refusing to meet mine. “What’s going on? What are you thinking?”

“Everyone who goes in that hospital leaves. Pa deaded, Becca left, and now Ma’am will, too.”

I try to come up with something to say to take away his fears, but nothing forms because I don’t want to lie just to give him false hope. I’d done enough online research in the past forty-eight hours to know that if it is what the doctors suspect, Ma’am will be leaving. Maybe not physically, but her mind won’t be the same, and Tommy loves her, understands her, at least well enough to recognize that she may not be the same woman we’ve always known and loved. “I go to the hospital all the time and nothing ever happens to me,” I tell him, half joking, half hoping it’ll erase his fears.

Tommy rolls his eyes, a goofy smile spreading across his lips. “That’s because you’re invisible, Daddy.”

“You mean invincible.”

“No. Invisible.”

“If I’m invisible, then how can you see me?”

His eyes narrow, his mind deep in thought. “Silly Daddy. That’s what I said. Invincible. Like Superman. You Superman, Daddy!”

“Helloooo,” Aunt Kim calls, poking her head through the front door.

“Hey, did you know that I was Superman?” I ask her.

She rolls her eyes just like Tommy did. “Well, duh,” she coos, making her way toward Tommy and ruffling his hair. “No broken bones can keep your daddy down.”

Tommy smiles up at her. “There was a big scary man at the door last time.”

“A big scary man?” Kim repeats, her eyes on mine.

“Later,” I mouth, then focus on Tommy. “That reminds me… we need to talk about something, bud,” I say, my voice stern.

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah, uh oh.”

Tommy leans back in his chair and looks around the room. “I didn’t dinosaur stomp on my iPad. I promise.” He takes a mouthful of cereal, guilt written all over his face. He totally dinosaur stomped on his iPad.

I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “You can’t call people butt sniffers, bud. It’s not nice.”

He spits out his cereal with his laugh. “But he is a butt sniffer!”

I wipe the milk off the counter with a cloth. “It’s not funny.”

“Butt sniffer. Butt sniffer. Butt sniffer.”

“I have to get going. Be good to your aunt, okay?”

“Okay, butt sniffer in your butt last time!”

* * *

Becca answers the door to Chazarae’s house, a shy smile on her beautiful face. “You left your phone in my bed,” I tell her, holding it behind my back.

She throws her hand out between us, palm up.

I rock on my heels. “Yeah. No. I think I’m going to keep it.”

Becca bites down on her lip, her emerald eyes penetrating mine. She steps forward, closing the door with one hand, the other flattening on my stomach. “Please?” she mouths.

I shake my head and lean forward, my mouth to her ear. “You’re going to have to work for it.” I’m trying to flirt, though I’m almost positive I’m failing because both her hands are on my chest now, and all of a sudden I can’t think. I can’t see. I can’t even breathe. I try to swallow but my throat’s too dry, even though I’m pretty sure there’s puke in there, and now my eyes are starting to water and there’s some fucked-up acid shit in my nose and the air is thick and my vision blurs and dammit, she pouts.

“Don’t pout,” I breathe out.

She does it again. This time, batting her eyelids. Becca rises to her toes and presses her lips to mine. Just once. But enough for air to fill my lungs and for my vision to return to normal. I cave and hand her the phone just as her door opens and her dad appears. She steps back, her arms falling to her side. “You ready, Becca?” her dad asks.

“Good morning, sir.” I offer him my hand for a shake. “I need to apologize for my son this morning. He got a little rattled when he heard the banging on the door.”

He looks down at my hand, ignores it, and then motions toward Chaz’s car. “Let’s go.”

* * *

I get in my car, my thoughts running in circles as I drive the familiar streets to the hospital. I try to think back to all the encounters I’ve had with Becca’s dad, every word I’ve spoken, and I try to justify why he’s acting the way he is toward me. I understand, to a degree, but he wasn’t this bad when he was here for Chaz’s birthday and I’ve had zero contact with him since. I push aside the concern—for now, but not forever—and instead, I focus on Chaz.

Chaz is awake when I enter the room, her nose scrunched in disgust as she prods her breakfast with her fork. She forces a smile when she looks at me, “Oh, Joshua, thank the Lord you’re here. Go get me a chocolate bar, will you?”

With a sigh, I take the seat next to her bed. “Chocolate for breakfast, Ma’am? Who are you? Tommy?”

She laughs quietly—the exact reaction I was hoping for.

“How are you feeling?”

After pushing away the tray, she says, “I’m good. I just want to get out of here.”

“I know. But a specialist is coming in soon, so hopefully we can find out more and get you back home as soon as possible.”

Her smile reaches her eyes—eyes dark and aged and wrinkled, just like the rest of her. Her skin’s dry, cracked from the hours upon hours she spends out in her garden doing the work I used to do before my skating took priority. Heaviness builds in my chest and I look down at my lap.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

She shifts in her spot, moving the pillows to get more comfortable. “You know better than to lie to me, Joshua.”