"You've got him."
"I don't know what he wants."
"Neither do I yet."
"You usually know."
"I usually find out."
I stayed where I was.
He hesitated before lifting Miles.
The crying got louder.
"See?" Derek said. "I'm making it worse."
"You've held him for ten seconds."
"What do I do?"
The answers lined up in my head.
"I'm making it worse."
Instead, I said, "Start paying attention."
He began pacing too fast. Miles cried harder. Derek slowed down, and a minute later, the crying softened.
"He's stopping."
"Yeah."
Derek looked down at him.
"Start paying attention."
"You make this look easy."
"You told me I do nothing."
"I know."
"Why?"
He swallowed.
"Because every time I came home, you already knew what they needed. I didn't."
"You told me I do nothing."
"You could've learned."
"I know."
"Then why didn't you?"
His voice dropped.
"Because I felt useless. Every time you asked, it reminded me."
"So you wanted me to stop asking."
"Then why didn't you?"
