Cal breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his ride pull away from the curb. Spending two and a half hours in a car with a stranger wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his Saturday morning but sharing a ride beat five hours on a Greyhound any day of the week.

He missed his car.

Slinging his rucksack onto his shoulder, he started down the path to the house, taking in the fresh air and comfort of the familiar. This wasn’t the fanciest part of Cape May but it was pleasant enough, quiet most of the time with the only real noise from the new families that moved into the area. The sight of the trees budding and the garden ornaments made him feel tired, like his body could finally lose the tension that held him together in the city and he was suddenly weary.

“You look like shit.”

Cal laughed and looked up at the man standing at the door. “I look like a fucking goddess compared to you. Who bought you that shirt?” He threw his arm around his big brother’s shoulders when he got close and they held each other tight for a minute.

“Vanessa said it brought out my eyes.” Reese fluttered his eyelashes, and smacked Cal on the ass as he walked past into the house, laughing.

“I think she was pulling your leg. She here?”

Reese shook his head. “No, Brianna had a rehearsal and Devin wanted to go to some board game thing with his friends. They’ll be along later. How long can you stay?”

“‘Til Monday.” Cal lowered his voice. “How is she?”

Reese smiled but it was sad and worn. “Better. Sore. Bitching about every damn thing. But, fingers crossed, we’re passed the worst of it.”

They’d spoken about all this on the phone but Cal really wanted to see for himself. Reese had been cautiously optimistic from the beginning.

Their mom had been one of those women who never had a sick day in her life; Cal couldn’t even remember her getting more than a sniffle. So when she and her dad had sat him and his siblings down at the dining table after one of their monthly dinners—like they did when they were teenagers and they’d realized the whiskey had been watered down or someone had come home stinking of weed—they knew it was serious.

“Is she up?”

Reese shook his head. “Sleeping. Dad’s out back. Go hang out with him for a bit while I finish up the lunch.”

Cal grinned. “Keep him out of your hair, you mean.”

Reese laughed. “While I’ve still got it.” Having a chef in the family was a really good thing being that Cal could barely boil water. Having two chefs in the family didn’t always go so smoothly.

Cal found his father stretched out in one of the lawn chairs set up on the deck, beer in one hand and a hardware catalogue in the other. It was no joke that he looked like he’d aged about ten years in the last six months, his face deeply lined and his body somehow smaller.

Cal kissed him on the head and lowered himself into the chair opposite.

“He better not be boiling those asparagus,” the old man grumbled.

Cal sighed and wished he’d had the forethought to grab a drink before he came out. “I think he’s planning on just whispering sweet nothings to them until they soften up.”

His dad snorted and looked over at him, a soft look in his eyes. “How was the drive?”

Cal shrugged. “Okay. A couple of college grads coming down for some music event. I don’t know, I tuned them out before we got to Staten Island. Still, cheaper than an Uber. Reese says mom is doing better?”

Cal hated the serious look that came over his father whenever they had to talk about this. It made the man look fragile in a way he never thought possible. “It all seems that way. Yesterday, she complained that I’ve been using too much fabric softener so I think she’s definitely on the mend.” There was a smile of relief, until he added, “You shouldn’t have sold your car, Callum.”

Cal looked away, back up to the house, gazing up at the window to what was his childhood bedroom. “Yes, I should. I was hardly using it.”

“And what about this other money you’ve been sending? Please tell me you haven’t taken out a loan or anything stupid.”

Cal wanted to laugh. In a way, he was flattered that his father thought that he might be even considered for one given the extent of his student loans. He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “No, nothing like that.” His father waited, his eyes boring into the top of Cal’s head until he relented. “I-I got a second job.”

His father hissed through his teeth. “Oh, Cal—”

But Cal wasn’t having it. “No, don’t—it’s fine. We decided, all of us, to help out. Reese and Lizbeth put money in too, I just want to do my bit. It’s the least we can do, Dad.”

His father didn’t say anything but he reached forward and took Cal’s hand, squeezing it tight.

They’d never been close, not like Cal was with his mom but they’d always got along just fine. His dad never berated him for not wanting to help him in the kitchen or take a summer job at the restaurant. He hadn’t batted an eyelid the first time Cal had come home with a boyfriend, or when he’d turned up, red-eyed and emotionally wrecked and needing to come back home for weeks at a time during college. They never talked, or shared or got each other but it didn’t matter. And it had it’s advantages. At least, Cal knew his father wouldn’t be asking him about his second job and force him to lie about Harry or Ben, or the appointment he’d had to cancel to come down this weekend.

Cal held his father’s hand tight, letting him be the one to let go finally. He sat back in his chair. “The grass out front could do with a talking to. You want me to run the mower over it after lunch?”

His father shrugged and looked back at his catalogue. “That would be nice.” He took a sip of his beer. “Y’know, the back yard is looking a little shaggy too…”

Cal smiled, and strangely thought of Ben, and what it would be like to just sit and talk in the sun about grass growing while they drank beer and waited for lunch to arrive.