He pulled away, leaving me a heart-thumping mess against the glass. He waved to the girls and walked right past them without another word, but then turned back around. “Oh, and Ember?” I blinked in response. “I’m still your whatever, for whatever you need.”

We dropped Sam off for dinner with her mom and pulled into our driveway. Gus made a big deal about carrying his gear in by himself, so I let him, despite stifling my laughter at the Josh-sized bag. He struggled ahead to the door, and I pulled April back.

“Hey, what was with that guy at the rink?”

“Who? Paul?” She innocently brushed imaginary dirt off her arm.

“Yeah, Mr. Not-Brett. You looked pretty close to the guy.”

“And you were nearly clawing off Josh’s clothes, so what does it matter? Not that I blame you. That guy is so sexy.”

The wistfulness in her tone made me sputter. “It matters because I don’t have a boyfriend! Also, you don’t get to call Josh ‘sexy.’ He’s six years older than you.”

“Whatever. Look, I’m glad you’re home and stuff, but don’t stick your nose into my business like you haven’t been gone these last couple of years.” She huffed into the house.

I felt like some kind of absentee landlord, trying to mop up damage I hadn’t witnessed. She was right. As close as we’d been growing up, leaving for college changed things. We’d both matured separately, and now there was a distance between us.

Inside the foyer, the scent of garlic bread and scallops enveloped us. “No way,” April muttered, haphazardly tossing her purse into the entryway.

“Mom?” I hung up my coat and cautiously approached the kitchen.

She stirred the contents of the steaming pot on the stove. Her hair hung wet down her back, and she wore clean clothes without my prompting. Her eyes may have been red-rimmed and swollen, but she was here. “Ember, would you grab the dressing out of the refrigerator for the salad?”

I looked at April and Gus, and we all shrugged with wide eyes at one another. Grams stirred the pasta and gave us a subtle nod.

“Come on, guys, you know the drill. Ember, salad dressing. April, pour the drinks. Gus, grab the silverware.” Mom gave out orders like she hadn’t been bed-bound for the last four weeks. Another heartbeat passed. “Now.” She pointed toward the dining room with an Alfredo-sauce-soaked spatula.

We jumped, scurrying to our assigned roles. No one spoke, afraid of shattering the fragile normalcy. We brought our assignments to the table, and took our usual seats for the first time since . . . yeah. Grams pulled an extra chair from the side of the china cabinet to sit next to Gus.

She left Dad’s seat empty.

“Gus?” Mom prompted and bowed her head.

Gus’s sweet voice filled the air as he said grace, but his voice stuttered after he asked to keep our daddy safe during his deployment. He was just so used to saying it. I jerked my eyes to Mom in panic that it would set her off. She paled, but held still and silent until he finished.

“I think that was perfect, Gus.” Grams kissed his temple.

“Now who’s hungry?” Mom raised her head with a weak smile.

Just like that, the tide of grief receded enough to breathe as we passed the dishes around. The clatter of plates mixed with Gus’s excitement over his day and his ability to share it with Mom. I stole glances at her in between bites; she was smiling down at Gus, listening to what happened with his day. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it was there.

April’s head drooped next to me, and she quickly brushed off a tear. I reached the small distance between us and took her hand with a gentle squeeze. Our eyes met, and something intangible passed between us, something that felt dangerously like hope.

She clung to my hand as desperately as I gripped hers. With a trembling lip, I raised my eyes to Grams’s. She gave me a slow smile and a single nod, and there it was again, hope coursing through me, the taste sweet in my mouth. I was scared to acknowledge it, to think it even, in case it jinxed us in this moment, but I couldn’t ignore my optimism.

We were going to get past this. We were going to be okay.

“You’re not at school,” Mom stated as she stared at the calendar. “Has it really been that long?”

“I’m at UCCS now.” I looked back to the living room where Grams sat in the corner stitching, but she simply nodded her head back toward Mom. I was on my own.

“Right,” she muttered. “I remember you saying that. Kind of.” She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “You moved home.”

“Not exactly. I live with Sam now. We have an apartment up toward campus, but I’m close enough to grab Gus and stuff when you need help.”

“You came home because of me.”

I didn’t reach out for her. We weren’t exactly a touchy-feeling, mother-daughter duo. “I came home because we lost Dad, and nothing was right in Boulder. This is where I’m needed, and I made the best decision I could with what’s been going on.”

“You’ve kept the house going, you and Grams. Thank you.”

I didn’t want her thanks. I wanted her to pull herself together and promise she wasn’t going to retreat into that cave of a bedroom. I wanted her to take care of Gus, and April, and mostly, herself. I wanted not to be the only adult in the family anymore.

Where did this anger come from? Shouldn’t I just be happy she was here for the moment? She was functioning? I didn’t want to feel this way, so I ignored it as best I could.