Milo’s phone went off with a tune that was too cheerful for six o’clock in the morning. He braced himself and flung his arm out of the covers and into the chilly air to silence the alarm.

“Too early,” Donovan groaned, shifting in his bed.

“You say that every morning,” Milo reminded.

“’Cause it’s true,” Don said, his words sleepy and slurring together.

The faint pre-dawn light barely reached through the thin curtains, and the room was still dark. The running shower could be heard through the walls. As usual, Raine was the first one up. Milo pushed the blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Donovan had already fallen back asleep. He’d take another twenty minutes or so, and he might as well since Raine had the bathroom. Milo put his glasses on, grabbed his phone, and left the room. He peeked into the other bedroom, and Alice was still sound asleep in her bed. He didn’t usually wake her until six-thirty, giving her an hour before the bus arrived for school.

Milo checked the thermostat in the hall, confirming it was a few degrees lower than where he’d set it—not that he could do anything about it, except to start the coffee pot.

Milo padded into the kitchen and flipped the light on. He started work on their trusty old Mr. Coffee, and before long, the aroma of brewing, dark roast filled the apartment. While he waited for the liquid energy, Milo pulled out the stuff for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and started making his and Donovan’s lunches. Thankfully, the schools provided free breakfasts and lunches for Raine and Alice, which helped cut the cost of their groceries.

As Milo finished packing the food for him and Don, Raine swept into the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day. Out of all of them, Raine was the morning person. They may be sarcastic and blunt at all other times of the day, but mornings with Raine were actually rather pleasant. Their cobalt blue hair gleamed in the fluorescent light. Raine’s natural hair matched the rest of the siblings, which was a dark brown, almost black. But Raine liked to dye it every couple of months or so, always choosing the boldest colors.

It was something Milo admired about Raine—they were never afraid to stand out.

“Morning,” Raine said brightly. The cabinet door creaked as they grabbed a mug.

“Morning,” Milo replied, slightly less enthusiastically. He opened the refrigerator to set the lunches inside and pulled out the gallon of milk. He held it out, and Raine took it.

“Thanks. You visiting Mom this morning?”

“I am.” He usually visited every Friday morning and Tuesday evening, so that Raine and Alice got a chance to come if they wanted. Raine hadn’t come in a while, and he didn’t blame them. It was tough.

Rained poured themself some coffee, then slid a paper across the counter toward Milo. “Can you give this to her? I finished it a few days ago.”

Milo picked it up. “You drew this?” he asked, amazed.

Raine nodded, dumping a heaping spoonful of sugar into their mug, following it with milk.

“This is beautiful,” Milo said, trying not to get too emotional. He brushed his fingers over the detailed flowers. Raine’s art had gotten so good. That they made this for Mom… Well, Milo tried not to seem like it was a big deal.

“Maybe you could come with me next Tuesday? To give it to her?”

“I work that night,” Raine said, their gray eyes, so like Milo’s—and Mom’s—looking off into distances only Raine could see.

Milo wished he knew the right things to say. For two years, they’d all been living with grief, pain, and anger. And words never seemed like enough. He set the print in the basket on top of the fridge. “I’ll give it to her today. She’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” Raine said, and gave Milo a small grateful smile, their features recovering some of their usual morning spark.

Milo was tempted to give them a hug, or at least a squeeze on the shoulder. Touch like that would have been welcomed by Alice, and even Donovan—but not Raine. Milo settled for smiling back.

He went to the cabinet and pulled out his own mug, then filled it. Before returning the carafe to the warmer, he held it out to Raine. “More coffee with your sugar milk?”

Raine looked highly unamused. Then they drank the last of their “coffee” before letting out an exaggerated, contented sigh.

Milo laughed. Leaning against the counter, he drank his black coffee, and it wasn’t the only thing that warmed him.

Before Donovan got up, Milo took his quick turn in the bathroom. Then he got dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a cardigan. He started putting his work uniform in his backpack when Donovan finally stirred and sat up. He kept his hair shorter than Milo’s, but it always stuck out at odd angles in the mornings, making him look younger than he usually did.

Donovan was only twenty-one years old, but he was built rough and tough. At times like this, when he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and struggled to get out of bed, Milo felt that warm, caring instinct he’d had since they were younger and Don looked up at him like he was cooler than a superhero—when they weren’t fighting and annoying the hell out of each other.

“Bathroom’s free, but I’m about to wake Alice, so you better get in there while you can.”

“Alright,” Don said, scratching at his lightly stubbled jaw. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah, thanks for staying here with Alice.”

“It was nothing. Alice is the easy one. Remember when Raine was that age? Hell, even Raine now.”

Milo chuckled. “Still, I really appreciate it.”

“Dude, you should be going out more often—get yourself a boyfriend.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Milo said, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just sayin’”—Don got up and headed for the door—“You gotta care for yourself too.”

He left to snag the bathroom while he had a chance, and Milo finished getting ready. A boyfriend, huh? Or as Roger asked last night, a contract with a dom. Milo looked around the tiny bedroom, the overpacked space, the cracks in the old plaster walls. What man would be willing to take all this on?

When Milo checked his phone it was already six forty-five, later than he usually woke Alice. She was typically sluggish in the morning, so he hoped he could rush her along without affecting her mood before school.

Milo opened the door to Alice’s room, the hallway light shining in. Her phone alarm was going off on top of her dresser, and it was being ignored. This was why Milo always came in and made sure Alice was getting up. He silenced the alarm, then nudged her awake.

“Alice, it’s time to get up.”

She opened her bleary eyes, slowly focusing on Milo. Her eyes were a deep brown, like Don’s, and their dad’s. Milo smiled and brushed a few strands of her long hair out of her face.

“Okay,” she said.

“We’re a little behind today, so let’s try not to miss the bus.”

Alice’s eyes went wide at that, and she sat up. “No. I can’t miss the field trip today!” she said, scrambling down the ladder.

“That’s today?”

“It’s on the calendar.” She sighed, inflecting some good teenage exasperation. She put on her glasses and started pulling clothes out of her dresser. “Did you sign the permission slip?”

“I’ll go check. Don’t worry, Alice. We won’t let you miss it,” Milo said, heading out the door, feeling terrible and hoping he could find the permission slip.

Donovan was already out of the shower and sitting at the table sipping his coffee while Raine scrolled on their phone. Milo marched up to the wall calendar, and sure enough, among all the work schedules was the field trip to the science museum.

“Damn it,” Milo muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Don asked.

“I don’t think I signed the permission slip for Alice’s field trip.” Milo pulled down the fridge basket, their catch-all for important papers. Relief washed over him when he found a yellow paper filled with information on the field trip. “It’s here.”

He read the details.

He needed ten dollars. Only ten dollars.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes as he searched the kitchen for a pen, rifling through the junk drawer. He couldn’t find one.

“Here,” Raine said, standing beside him and holding out a pen.

Milo didn’t cry, but he probably looked close to it. And he hated that. His siblings shouldn’t have to see him falling apart over a pen and ten dollars. He had the money, just not in cash. He’d deposited his bartending tips into the bank yesterday, knowing he’d be paying the energy and phone bills online today. If he’d remembered about the field trip, as a good guardian was supposed to remember these things, he’d have kept out some of the cash.

He looked at the stove clock. It was almost seven. If he ran, he could make it to the closest ATM and back before the bus arrived. Milo quickly signed the permission slip, then rushed to the front door to slip his shoes on.

“Wait, Milo,” Raine said.

“I’ll be back before the bus gets here. Can you make sure Alice is ready?” Milo was already getting into his jacket.

“Hey, hold on.” Raine stopped him at the door, holding out a ten-dollar bill.

“No, that’s yours, Raine. You worked for it. I have the money. I just need to get to the ATM.”

“Milo, stop! Just take it. You can pay me back when you actually have time to get to the ATM.”

“I’ve got some cash too, Milo,” Don said, standing at the kitchen threshold and pulling his wallet out from his jeans.

“You guys shouldn’t have to,” Milo said. “I’m supposed to be the one to—”

“To what?” Raine cut him off. “To carry everything on your shoulders? Did you forget that we’re a family, and families help each other out?”

Before Milo could respond, Alice stepped into the living room.

“Are you leaving already, Milo? Aren’t you going to walk me to the bus stop?”

Milo looked at Raine, then Donovan, who mirrored Raine’s stubborn determination. He accepted the money, though he couldn’t help feeling stingingly inadequate.

“Yeah, kiddo. I’ll be walking you to the bus.” Milo took his jacket back off.

Alice eyed them all standing around, then shrugged as if their being weird was a regular thing, and went to put on her shoes. “Did you sign the permission slip?”

“I’ve got it. Hold on.”

Milo went back into the kitchen to put the money with the slip. Raine and Donovan followed. “Thank you,” he said to them.

“Idiot,” Raine said, but they smiled and looked at Milo with a softness they rarely expressed. “You keep forgetting that you’re not alone. We’re in this together, Milo.”

“Yeah,” Milo said, and this time, he couldn’t stop a few tears from escaping.