Summer Sons

This was, in a sense, research—

That was how it had happened, and also not how it had happened.

Knowing it was the right thing to do, to preserve the memory of Eddie as he’d really been, rather than what he’d become, didn’t fix how bad it hurt to be well and truly alone.

grown up,” she said. Andrew’s hand spasmed on the glass. Weaker crystal might have cracked. Troth stepped from the desk and laid delicate fingers on his shoulder in passing. “I remember the search, because my youngest was your age then. Edward’s parents were distraught. It was such a relief when you were both found.”

He wasn’t cut out for the life he’d inherited.

The disembodiment of the department gathering, his pretense at scholar-gentleman, dropped away at Sam’s slur on the -drew.

because nothing encompassed the particular set of feelings he might sum up as owned.

Troth was after him to fill Eddie’s shoes for her, to complete his research with her, to dredge the accident up for her—she forced her way into things no one else understood, probing secrets he’d rather leave buried. But he had questions to ask, and he needed her answers for some of them.

Eddie had left him this, also: a future to see through.