“He got on the bus, insisting he needed to go to Two Harts. The bus driver realized something was off right away and she tried to explain this wasn’t that kind of bus. She was able to contact the police, and they recognized him immediately.”
“That does sound like an adventure.”
“Yes,” he said. “He asked when he could ride the bus again.”
I laughed softly. “Are you with him now?”
“We’re at home. He’s sleeping. Adventuring is exhausting, apparently.” He let out a heavy breath. “There’s more. I found out that he attempted to run away twice in the last couple of weeks. He never actually succeeded so no one notified me.”
“What?” I said in outrage. “Well, he is not going back to that place. I hope you know that.”
Gil was silent for a moment. “No, he’s not going back there.”
“You’re bringing him here.” It was a fact, not a question.
“Is that okay?” he asked quietly. “We still have two weeks until?—”
I refused to hear the end of that sentence. Not yet, anyway. “Of course, you dummy. Come home already.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Love is something two people do that means there’s a connection,and it’s very important.
—GABRIELLA G., AGE 9
“It’s Tuesday. That’s meatloaf day.” Mikey grinned as he sat at the kitchen counter watching me heat up dinner. “I love meatloaf. Gilly doesn’t make me meatloaf.”
“What does he make?” I asked.
Mikey made a show of looking around for Gil before he whisper-yelled, “Oatmeal. A lot of oatmeal.”
“Hey.” Gil appeared in the doorway. “That’s not the only thing I make.”
“Yes, it is ’cause Gilly’s not allowed to cook at home.” Mikey grinned and pointed at himself. “But Dad taught me how to make grilled cheese sandwiches and mac and cheese and spaghetti.”
“Really?” I leaned a hip on the counter. “I guess that makes you a better cook than your brother, huh?”
He nodded with enthusiasm. “One time, Gilly set the stove on fire.”
Gil’s cheeks turned pink. “It was a small grease fire. Over before it started, really.”
“And another time, we all got real sick after he made tacos and I was stuck in the bathroom for a whole day ’cause of it.”
“Bad meat,” Gil said weakly.
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “That’s no fun.”
Mikey shook his head. “So, Gilly isn’t allowed to cook. Dad said and that’s that.”
My eyes met Gil’s. “We will absolutely not let him cook.”
“When you and me get home, you don’t have to cook. I’ll cook us grilled cheese for every meal, Gilly, okay?”
Although Mikey had seemed happy the last week, I noticed he brought up home at least once a day. And every time, I told myself to calm down. It didn’t mean anything. Mikey was doing so well here that, just maybe, Gil was starting to come around to my way of thinking.
Gil shook his head. “No cooking when we get home, dude.”
“Mikey, why don’t you go find Oliver and let him know it’s almost dinnertime?”