“I didn’t leave,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I just grew up. That’s what kids do, Mom. They grow up.”
She stared at him, recognition flickering across her face for just a moment before disappearing again. “Give him back to me,” she whispered, the knife wavering. “Give me my baby boy back.”
The naked desperation in her voice cracked something in Boone’s chest. He’d never be that child again. She’d never get back the years the drugs had stolen.
“Mom, I can’t.” He swallowed hard, the words scraping his throat raw. “I’m grown now.”
She froze, the knife going still against Johanna’s throat.Then her face crumpled, a terrible keening sound rising from deep in her chest. “My baby. I want my baby back.”
“I know,” Boone whispered, and he did. He understood wanting something so badly you’d destroy everything else to get it. “I know. Mom, please, put down the knife. You’re hurting Johanna. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“She works for him!” His mother jabbed a bony finger toward Walker. “They’re all in on it. The whole town knows what goes on at this place.”
Jonah shifted behind Walker, clearly calculating whether he could rush her before she slashed the knife. Boone shot him a warning look. His mother’s paranoia made her unpredictable—any sudden movement could end in blood.
“What exactly do you think goes on here?” A new voice cut through the tension, casual as a summer breeze.
River stepped from the shadows at the corner of the porch, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, snowflakes caught in his dark curls. He moved with the loose-limbed ease of a man who’d just wandered into a friendly conversation rather than a hostage situation.
His mother’s head snapped toward the sound, knife momentarily wavering. “Who are you?”
“River. We met a few months ago, remember? On Main Street in front of the hardware store.” He flashed his trademark grin. “You called me handsome and gave me a flower.” He pulled a dried flower out of his pocket and held it out to her. She hesitated, then reached out and snatched it, her eyes narrowed.
“Yes,” she said distantly. “I remember.”
“I fixed your water heater.” He leaned against the porch railing, nodding toward Johanna. “Mrs. C, you mind easing up on the doctor there? She’s got those cookies in the oven, and they’re gonna burn if this goes on much longer.”
There were no cookies. The kitchen was dark behindWalker. But the absurdity of the statement seemed to penetrate his mother’s frantic energy. Her grip on the knife loosened slightly.
“Water heater?” she repeated.
“Yeah, the one in your basement that kept making that knocking sound. You said it sounded like someone was trying to break in.” River shrugged, snowflakes melting on his shoulders. “You made me tea afterward. Earl Grey with two sugars, and told me about that quilt your grandmother made. The blue one with the stars.”
She blinked rapidly, the knife dipping an inch from Johanna’s throat. “I remember the quilt.”
“Course you do. You showed it to me. Said your boy used to hide under it during thunderstorms.”
Boone’s chest tightened. He had hidden under that quilt. He’d forgotten that.
River pushed away from the railing and took a casual step closer. “Listen, Mrs. C, I was thinking I could come by next week, check on that squeaky front door you mentioned. Maybe take a look at the gutters, too. They were looking pretty rough.”
“You... you would do that?” Her voice wavered.
“Sure. I’m good with my hands, and winter’s hard on houses.” River scratched the back of his neck, glancing around the porch as if assessing a maintenance job. “Truth is, I get it. Feeling like the world’s against you. Like nobody’s listening. Makes you want to tear things apart just so someone will pay attention.”
She stared at him, knife now held loosely at her side rather than against Johanna’s throat. “They took my boy,” she whispered.
“Nobody took him.” River’s voice dropped, all traces of his usual manic humor gone. “He grew up. That’s what kids do. And it’s hard as hell to watch, I bet.”
A strange, strangled sound escaped his mother’s throat.
“But I’ll tell you something about this place.” River gestured to the ranch around them. “These people? They actually give a shit. No joke. They’ve put up with me for months, and I’m a professional pain in the ass.”
Johanna inched away from the knife, and for once, Boone was grateful for River’s inability to shut up. He could see his mother listening—really listening—in a way she hadn’t been able to with him or Walker.
“I broke a window last week,” River continued, “and instead of kicking me out, Walker made me fix it and then asked if I was okay. Who does that? Normal people just yell and move on. But they want to help. They helped your son become someone worth being.”
Her eyes filled with tears, the knife trembling violently in her hand. “I just wanted him back,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m so tired of fighting everyone. The Goodwins, the doctors, the voices... I’m just so tired.”
