Twenty-Four
The next few days were spent with the family, and most nights ended much later than I would normally stay up. The kids were often tucked into bed with a team effort by the adults—although my niblings had a particular interest in Uncle James tucking them in. When the basement was quiet enough, my mom would open a bottle or two of wine. By the time we made it back to James’s place—once with the help of an Uber—it was late for us, but also late for Jonas. We hadn’t talked for a few nights, but we had messaged occasionally.
James’s words echoed through my mind when I considered calling Jonas. It was easier to be distracted.
Then a message came in while I was at my parents’ house.
Can you talk now?
Instead of responding with a text, I placed a call and climbed the stairs to fin
