Chapter 3

Frankie wasn’t sleeping soundly anyway, so when dry coughing pierced the darkness, she just sat up, blinking herself the rest of the way awake. Leaning against the wall, her air mattress deflating with every move, she let her eyes adjust to the night. A slant of light came through a small part in the paisley-patterned curtains. In between the fits of coughing coming from the room next door, the house groaned and from somewhere in the expanse of greenery outside, Frankie could hear howling.

Brushing her hair out of her face, she grabbed her iPhone from where it lay beside her and looked up cough remedies. She ignored the several texts from her mom. As she scrolled through, she tried to think of the last time she’d been sick. She winced, remembering it had been last year. Her cough had been nowhere near as bad as Miles’s but Robert, her ex, had asked her to sleep on the couch so he could be well rested for work the next day. He’d loved her, as long as it didn’t interfere with anything else. She clicked on a pediatric site and read some of the suggestions, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. The coughing continued and she wondered if they had some water in there at least.

Pushing back the sleeping bag, she pulled a tee shirt on over her tank top and slipped into her yoga pants. The coughing continued and she wondered how much more his poor little body could take. With her phone in hand, she padded into the hallway and noted the light under the door. She knocked once, even as she pushed it open. The boys were propped up against the back wall with blankets strewn around them. Miles was hacking while Travis rubbed his back and Carter’s face twisted with worry.

“Hey,” she said. She moved into the room, ignoring Carter’s glare. The kid was going to fall over with the weight of the chip on his shoulder. Miles looked up, his watery eyes tired and scared, and continued to cough. Frankie frowned, uncertainty arguing with her growing concern.

“He didn’t mean to wake you,” Carter said gruffly. His eyes looked tired too and Frankie caught the briefest glimpse of his youth. And his fear. Travis made Miles sit up a bit more.

“I’m not worried about being awake, Carter,” she said, keeping her tone soft and steady. She stepped toward them and crouched in front of Miles, who was breathing in short bursts. She reached forward, like she’d done hours ago and checked his head: clammy, but no fever. She looked at Travis, who definitely gave off a more approachable vibe than Carter.

“I’m going to run the shower. The steam is supposed to be helpful,” she said firmly. Someone needed to make decisions and all three of the boys looked helpless in a way that pulled at something inside of her, something she couldn’t name and didn’t want to look at too closely.

Carter’s voice was flat. “He gotta be in the shower?”

Frankie shook her head and looked back at him, watching as he stifled a yawn. Travis stood and Miles started to cough again. His small frame shook with the exertion, small tears trailing down his dark cheeks. Frankie’s heart twisted in her chest painfully, like someone had tied a string around it and pulled. She held out her hand to Miles, noticing the subtle way Travis swayed on his feet. These boys were exhausted.

“Let me take him, okay? You two try to get some sleep,” she said, taking Miles’s small hand.

“No way. We can take care of ourselves,” Carter said, standing up.

Frankie appreciated the steel in his voice; it was clear they were able to look after each other. It amazed her that they’d done so in the month since Beth’s death. Frankie had never been put in the position of having to take care of herself, and when she’d decided she wanted to, the idea was ludicrous to the people around her. She had no doubt they didn’t want to need her or anyone else. Still, she had a phone with access to Google, so she figured she was one up on them there.

“You guys are exhausted. I trusted you to stay in my house. Trust me to sit up with your brother while you get some sleep. You trust me, right Miles?”

Miles nodded, his lips trembling, and Travis’s shoulders slumped. Carter’s stance was strained, like he was poised for fight or flight. When Miles leaned against her, resting his head against her stomach, not so much showing affection as needing the support, she made the decision for them. She picked him up, surprised by how heavy he was given his small body. His head fell to her shoulder and the feel of his forehead pressing into her neck made her heart pinch again. She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the older two.

“Just lie down for a bit okay?”

Travis nodded and sank down against the wall, but she felt Carter’s eyes on her as she left the room, her arms wrapped around Miles. Moving into the small bathroom, she set Miles down on the lid of the toilet and turned the faucet to hot. Miles’s coughing started up again and she took the small glass she’d left by the sink earlier and filled it with water for him.

“Take a couple sips,” she said. He did as he was asked, in between coughs, then laid his head against the counter. She shut the bathroom door, hoping to keep the steam in the room so it would settle into his chest. She leaned against the wall, unsure of what to do as the vapor rose around them. Her gaze locked on Miles’s watchful one. His eyelids looked heavy, but his coughing subsided into small bursts.

Taking an uncomfortable seat on the cold linoleum, Frankie wondered what they’d done before Aunt Beth had brought them home. If she hadn’t stayed with her aunt one summer long ago, she’d never have believed her capable of such a thing. Frankie mentally reprimanded herself, starting the phrase, “You can’t judge a book,” before cutting off her own thoughts. There was always more to people than what you saw. Frankie knew that more than anyone. Sometimes, a rough exterior housed a gentle heart and, in her family’s case, sometimes a shiny surface was a façade for a stark reality.

Miles fidgeted on the lid of the toilet, trying to find a way to be comfortable. His eyes were shiny when he sat straight up and came over beside Frankie, sinking down so his head could lean on her arm.

“How you doing?” She didn’t know why she whispered.

“I’m tired.”

She nodded her head, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Just close your eyes.” His weight fell more heavily against her side as the steam pumped into the air. His breathing was shallow but definitely more even than it had been. Her eyes drifted closed and for a little while, everything was silent.

Frankie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Miles started coughing again but she bolted upright at the sound. His shoulders were hunched as though he was trying to cough into himself. She rubbed his back gently, wishing there was something she could do, wishing she knew what to do. The door opened, hitting Frankie in the leg, just as Miles threw up. Before Frankie could respond to Travis’s questions, Miles began to cry in earnest.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed and her heart splintered into tiny pieces of helplessness. Travis crowded into the room with them.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Travis grabbed a towel, shooting Frankie a sheepish glance.

Frankie turned off the spray that had gone cold. “You’ll be all right, honey. I think you just needed to clear your chest. “

Miles nodded miserably and Frankie again felt useless and in the way.

“I’ll be in the living room,” Frankie said quietly.

The thick green curtains that hung over the living room windows were open, but the night was so dark it didn’t matter. Frankie stood by the window, looking through the trees to Ryan’s house. Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d made her way into this house? She felt like she’d aged since showing up. Settling herself into a corner of the couch, where she could see the stars like spotlights in the sky, she leaned her head back and listened. The coughing had stopped for now, and she could hear creaks of movement down the hall.

The long drive from Southampton, every mile closer to the unknown, coupled with seeing the house and finding the boys was catching up with her. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she was reluctant to sleep, despite the fact that the coughing storm seemed to have passed. Maybe the steam had helped. She smiled, happy her presence mattered to someone.

In the last few months, she’d felt less and less that what she did every day made a difference in anyone’s life. Even her own. She loved freelance writing and it filled a small space in her heart, but it felt like all its other parts were missing. Puzzle pieces lost—maybe never there to begin with—leaving her incomplete. She’d fallen into the same trap as the rest of her family: Putting on a show. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Frankie had no idea what or who she was, but not knowing seemed far better than pretending.

Frankie blinked, stretched out her legs, and took stock of the various aches and kinks she’d earned from falling asleep on the couch. When her gaze landed on Travis and Carter standing at the end of the couch watching her sleep, she jumped and scooted herself upright, her heart hammering.

“Where’s Miles?” Her voice came out rough and scratchy.

“He’s sleeping,” Travis said, his face blank. “He stopped coughing a while ago.”

Frankie nodded, still blurry. “Okay. Good. Uh—for future reference, it’s creepy to wake up and have you standing over me.”

“Sorry.”

Travis looked down and Frankie felt guilty for her snappy tone. “It’s fine. Just, you know, don’t.” Frankie wondered if she was dreaming the scent of coffee.

“You want us out?” Carter’s voice was abrupt, like his demeanor.

Frankie sighed. The easy answer was yes. The adult-responsible-not-about-to-get-played-by-a-bunch-of-kids response was: it was time to go. Frankie couldn’t quite put her finger on what was holding her back from the easy out. Maybe it was the way Miles’s body had shaken with every cough. Or the terror that had come into Travis’s eyes the night before when she’d wanted to call family services. Or Carter’s adamant belief they’d be split up. Or maybe it was her own desire to stay in a situation where she felt needed.

“How long were you in the shelter?”

“Why?” Carter’s voice was bold, but she could see his unease in the way his eyes darted around the room to his brother.

“I haven’t had coffee yet, Carter. I want some so badly I’m imagining the taste. Could you, please, just answer my question?” she said, not hiding a heavy sigh.

“We were there three months after our mom died. I was just about to leave, these two were gonna stay,” he said, looking at his feet.

“No you weren’t, man. Not without us,” Travis said.

“The shelter said they could stay but they thought I should go,” Carter admitted.

Frankie’s eyebrows drew together. “Let me guess, you didn’t get along well with others?”

Travis’s lips twitched at her tone, but Carter pinned her with a hard stare. “No. I didn’t. Then we met Aunt Beth.”

Stretching, she stood and watched both boys brace themselves. Seeing as they were both taller than she was, it would have been amusing, if it weren’t so sad. Frankie felt a hovering sense of loss when she’d heard Aunt Beth had died, and the loneliness of knowing she’d died without any family around had spurred Frankie into action. She wanted to know she mattered to someone; she needed to leave behind more than false fronts and superficial relationships. So she’d come here to honor Aunt Beth, to make sure the woman’s life had mattered to someone. Frankie was humbled by the fact that Beth had obviously meant a great deal to these boys. And they’d lost her, right after losing their own mother.

“You can stay until Miles is better. After I have some coffee, we’ll go over the ground rules,” she said. It felt like the right thing to do. At least for the time being. Her stomach growled and her mind imagined the smell of food.

“I, uh…I made some breakfast,” Travis said, his voice low. She’d started for the kitchen but turned to face him.

“Breakfast including coffee?”

He nodded, the smallest of smiles making his face seem younger.

“And actual food?” Frankie’s stomach gave another grumble.

“Just, like, eggs, and some toast,” he said.

“That counts,” Frankie said, smiling. She headed for the kitchen, thinking maybe a meal she didn’t have to make was a good trade-off for a few hours of lost sleep. At least for the moment. Once her brain was less jumbled, she’d figure out how to start the rest of her day. And maybe, her new life.