Because whether she slammed it in his face or whispered for him to leave . . . he wasn’t walking away again.
Not this time.
CHAPTER 27
Luke raisedhis hand to knock at Amayah’s door, heart pounding with words he’d rehearsed the entire drive.
I lied. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
The door to Amayah’s house opened before his knuckles touched the wood.
Amayah stood there, eyes wide, hair pulled back in a hurried twist, silver crucifix catching the light. “Luke—I’m so glad you’re here. I need your opinion.”
He blinked at the unexpected turn in conversation. “My opinion?”
“I went over to the Crumps’ house.” Her words came out unusually fast. “The door was unlocked, so I went inside. My missing tree was there. The fridge was empty. There’s no sign their mother has been home in a while.”
Relief and dread tangled in his chest. “Funny you mention that. I looked into them too. Their utilities are overdue. They had a welfare check three weeks ago. No follow-up.”
A silence filled with uneasy understanding.
“We should talk to the kids,” he finally said. “Starting with Eli.”
She nodded and glanced down the street. “He’ll get off the bus soon. Maybe we can catch him then.”
Luke stepped in that direction. “It’s worth a try.”
The late afternoon air carried the bite of oncoming winter, the sky washed pale gray as Amayah and Luke stood at the end of her driveway.
Amayah folded her arms, trying to look calm even as unease pressed against her.
The school bus rounded the corner with its familiar groan and sigh, brakes hissing as it rolled to a stop. Doors folded open. A jumble of kids spilled out, laughter and chatter echoing as they dispersed toward their homes.
Eli stepped down last, backpack slung over one shoulder, chin tucked, eyes already guarded. If Amayah remembered correctly, he rode a different bus home than the rest of his siblings. Theirs would come in about fifteen minutes.
As Eli walked down the sidewalk toward his house, he moved like someone who’d learned the world wasn’t always kind.
“Hey, Eli,” Amayah called. “Could you come talk to us for a minute? I’ll make you a sandwich.”
He slowed but didn’t stop, gaze flicking between them, caution written deep into his posture.
“Just for a minute,” Luke added, his voice calm. “We’re not mad. No one is in trouble.”
A long beat passed.
Eli’s jaw hardened.
Then, reluctantly, he turned and trudged back toward Amayah’s house, every step heavy with uncertainty.
Amayah prayed she’d have the right words, the right actions.
Because the last thing she wanted was to cause more hurt.
Inside Amayah’s place, the warmth wrapped around them instantly. The heater hummed softly. Her favorite scents of cinnamon and vanilla lingered in the air.
Eli perched on the edge of the kitchen chair like he might need to bolt at any second, hands clenched tightly around the frayed straps of his backpack.
Amayah moved gently, as if approaching a startled animal. She laid a peanut butter sandwich on a plate and slid it across the table, then added an apple without fanfare.
