Page 154 of Find My Way Down to You

He puffs his chest out. “For you two? I’ll make time.”

“Does anyone care if I have time?” I ask with a teasing smirk.

Dad presses his hand dramatically to his chest. “Oh, Your Majesty, our apologies! Can you spare a moment for your pooragingparents?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

“Don’t ruin your reputation for us,” Mom says dryly, but her arms hug my waist. Like she believes I really might leave them behind one day.

Dad’s phone buzzes. His coppery eyebrows knot as he reads the screen. It’s obviously the hospital.

“We can get lunch tomorrow,” I offer. “After my volunteer shift.”

That’s another thing therapy has helped me with. Twice a week, I volunteer at Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. In the pediatric wing with my dad. It took him by surprise when I suggested the idea. Me too.

I thought I’d never be able to walk through that hospital again. Not without breaking down. Remembering every detail from that night. The memories still come. But I’m better at managing them.

Better at leaving those ghosts in the past.

The kids are great too. They’re always so eager, so loud, living life as if time doesn’t matter. I sing my songs for them. Sit in their rooms until they fall asleep. Anything to help them forget where they are or what they’re experiencing.

Dad pockets his phone. “Nope. This is family time. We deserve this.”

My face splits into a grin. “Does that mean you’ll try sriracha on your burrito today?”

He pretends to consider it. “For you, Auggie? Hell no!”

Our laughter echoes through the room long after we’re gone.

“You’re late.”

Max glares at me from the doorway of Viva Catalina’s.

I grin, leaning against the front counter. I arrived an hour ago. Thirty-six minutes before my shift started, a new record.

“You’ll never get promoted like this,” I say, parroting the words she’s used against me so many times.

Max yanks off her bag. In one easy move, she flips me a very unfriendly finger before disappearing to the back.

“Is working the register really considered a promotion around here?” Arden, the new hire, asks.

I grab the tub of dirty dishes from their hands. “Absolutely. Did you clean the restrooms yet?”

They groan, skulking away.

The pizzeria’s busy today. Tables filled. Not an empty seat at the bar. January’s warm weather means the patio has a nice crowd too. All customers either around my age or younger.

I box to-go orders Junie and Tonia sling out. Eventually, Max joins me.

“Remind me to never sign up for a class that’s just called Shakespeare.”

“That bad?” I ask.

She sighs mournfully. “Worse.”

“Sorry to hear that. But you were still late.” I poke her shoulder. “That’s coming out of your tips. Compensation for all the extra energy I had to use.”

Max smiles wryly. “Then you can use that money to pay your half of the rent. Since you’re late…again.”