Page 58 of Wish For Me

“Of course. The owner’s very chill.”

Enzo waves, giving Leif a pointed look I can’t quite interpret, then takes off down the stairs, leaving Leif and I alone.

For a moment, I feel a surprising rush of nerves now that it’s just the two of us.

“I didn’t ask you if you were okay to stay,” I say.

“I’m good. I don’t have anything planned for the next month, honestly.”

Heishere early.

“Do you know who the owner is?” I ask. “You think they’d mind if I poked around?”

“No,” Leif says. “I mean, I don’t think they’d mind, because I’m pretty sure it’s my uncle Eli.”

“What?”

“He always talked about how this place would be amazing if someone had an idea for how to turn it into something. I think he thought about using it for a concert hall for my aunt Reese. But it’s way too small for the kinds of crowds she still pulls.” He walks over to the boxes against the wall. “I think we’ll know for sure in a second.”

He takes down a tub markedcamping gear, setting it aside to access another one labelledbaby photos. “Eli and Reese’s basement flooded last year, which would explain the need for storage.” He lifts off the lid, pulling out a photo of a very chubby toddler with curly hair and a very recognizable smile.

I laugh. “Enzo.”

“There’s his sister.” He pulls out another photo. “And me.”

I take the photo from him—an adorable pre-school aged boy on a tricycle strains hard to pedal the bike, which has a rope tied to its back. Attached to the rope is Enzo, balancing on a skateboard.

I laugh hard at that one.

“That was before I figured out basic physics,” Leif says.

We go through more of the photos: one with the whole family at Christmas, the kids all opening presents. Leif’s in the background, sitting in front of his father, gazing in wonder at a spaceship as his dad beams on.

“It was pretty sweet what your dad said today,” I say softly.

Leif doesn’t take his eyes off the photo. “Yeah. I’ve been a dick to him for years.”

“I’ve never seen you be a dick, Leif. And you definitely weren’t today.”

At the end of the sleigh ride, Leif had given his father a hug, and I’d seen the way his eyes were wet. They made plans to meet up to hang out a couple of days from now. Just the two of them.

Leif shakes his head. “All these years—I was being selfish.”

“He said himself he should have spent more time at home, didn’t he?” I remember Leif telling me that years ago.

“Yeah, but he did spend time with me. I have lots of good memories too. I had to remember that they were there, outnumbering the disappointments.

I lean my head on Leif’s shoulder, staring at the photograph in his hand. “It’s hard to remember our parents are whole people sometimes,” I say.

Leif goes slightly stiff under me, and I sit up again, wondering if I’ve misread all of our closeness. But he turns so he’s facing me. When he looks in my eyes, my whole body zings with electricity.

“Thank you,” he says, taking my hands.

“What for?”

“For always encouraging me to talk to him. Even if I was too chickenshit to do it before.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t do anything, Leif. I was just being a friend.”

---