Out of Character (True Colors 2)

Milo nodded sharply as he merged onto the highway. “Yeah. His is in special storage with a buddy of Dad’s who collects classic cars and stores some for people. He almost… Never mind.”

“What?” I hated when people did that. They’d get all pensive and stare off into space and then try to act like they hadn’t been on the cusp of some big revelation. Spill already.

“Nothing.” Predictably, Milo didn’t finish his thought, but his expression stayed distant and sad. “Just that I owe Bruno for a lot. That’s all.”

“I get it.” I stretched to try to stay awake. This was weird, too, being on the road to an Odyssey event, especially without any of my usual crew along. The previous summer I’d had a trip cut short by April’s illness, and that missed chance made me more determined to get a win here for Milo. Play hero, like I did at the hospital and with my family. “Katie and Brenda have both paid a couple of bills when my folks couldn’t. It’s what family does.”

I probably should have let Milo stew in quiet, but I figured I could give him some conversation since he was the one doing the driving. Might be rude to fall asleep before we were even out of Gracehaven’s city limits.

“Yeah. Family’s good that way.” Milo didn’t sound all too upbeat about that. Probably still thinking about Bruno and his dad.

“I’m sorry about your dad. He…” I searched for a compliment that wouldn’t sound false. “He was a good guy.”

“You don’t have to pretend. Everyone knows his liver went because of the drinking. And he yelled at you personally. More than once.”

When we’d been kids, his dad had had a weird sleep schedule, especially on weekends. He’d never been violent, but he had been loud a few times. It hadn’t taken long for most of our sleepovers to be at my house.

“Yeah. But he wasn’t all bad. He’d take us for pizza.” Weekdays, especially right after work, he’d been sober and sometimes he’d be the one to pick up Milo. He’d been funny then, joking around, a nice guy in that moment. And Milo had always alternated between being skittish around him and big-time hero worship. “You loved him, and that counts for something. And he built the car with you.”

“And he went to a ton of my soccer games.” Milo exhaled hard, and I wanted to pat him like I had at the hospital, but that had been a mistake. Touching him felt too good. Too familiar. Couldn’t risk it.

“He did.” His dad had been a sports nut, particularly for soccer, waking up in the middle of the night to watch the World Cup and cheering for Italian soccer teams with names I couldn’t pronounce.

“It’s weird. Missing some things but not others. Wanting the family back together, but also knowing it wasn’t all that.” Outside, there was a rogue flurry or two. I really hoped there wasn’t snow while we were in Philly. Milo seemed weirdly antsy about driving despite being, as far as I could tell, really good at it. Like, he used his signals and changed lanes responsibly—that sort of basic stuff—but unlike the other times when I’d ridden with someone who drove a stick, the ride itself was smooth, not all jerky and bumpy, which was even more impressive given whatever was up with his leg.

“I get it. Parents are complicated.”

Milo snorted at that. “Says the guy with the perfect sitcom family.”

My hands fisted. I resented the hell out of that assumption. Milo didn’t know squat.

“April almost died last summer. That…takes a toll. Jeff, he doesn’t call home much anymore. Guess that’s how he copes. And it’s not the same as drinking, but I’ve found my mom, more than once, scrubbing the kitchen at 2:00 a.m. Dad, he’s not perfect either. Works too many hours. Doesn’t talk enough.”

That toll was a big part of why I tried to help out so much. Seeing my parents so stressed made me feel helpless, and I hated that feeling. Any amount of chores or nice deeds was worth it if it made them smile a little more.

“I’m sorry about Jeff. That sucks.” Milo had always gotten along with my older brother, who was in Bruno’s year. Now he was out in Seattle working for a tech company, and we mainly had to use social media to keep up with him. “And you’re right. I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t.” My mom’s stress-induced cleaning fits and relentless insomnia could be particularly hard to cope with, but I didn’t kid myself into thinking that I’d had it worse than Milo. “But it’s not the suckitude Olympics either.”

“True. I…uh…picked up some doughnuts on my way to you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the back of the car, and I found a white bakery box right behind the console. As far as changes of subject went, that wasn’t a bad one.