He snorts. “They didn’t give up a single fucking thing, not really. It’s like they don’twantthis to work. Abrams said the same.”
This has to be some sort of cash cow for them. In and out. Bare fucking minimum and charging the earth for it. Worry stirs at me. “She’s got eight weeks left here, right?”
Eight weeks fully paid, because Brett’s father tried to bury her in this place without saying a single word to us.
He doesn’t say anything. But his shoulders tense. “We’ll work that out. She’s not going anywhere else.”
Like it or not, this place is the most decent of the bunch. “But they’ll let her stay as long as she needs? If we pay for it?”
“Yeah. They don’t have much choice, really.”
She has to be somewhere secure. But if it’s not here, it’ll be the public Center more than an hour away.
Neither of us mention out loud how the hell we’re supposed to cover the fees for a place like this. But I know he’s thinking of it too.
“We’ll make it work,” Oscar says finally. “That's all we can do.”
We have to.
Day 29 – Jake
Theo’sheadjerksupwhen I slam the door to my truck closed. “How’d you know I was here?”
I jerk my thumb to the door of the trailer behind him. “I didn’t. I came for Kenny’s suitcases. You look like shit.”
The stubble that covered his face a week ago is edging toward a full-grown beard. He glances up at me with reddened eyes, dark circles beneath them that probably mirror my own.
I study him. “Why’re you up here, Theo?”
He shifts over when I take a seat on the step beside him. Silence stretches out, before he sighs. “I keep thinking about how she was on her own up here. Rick left her. We were… doing what we were doing. And she was just counting down the days, Jake.”
She was so alone. I stare out into the dark forest. “I’ve had the same thoughts.”
They keep me up at night.
“It shouldn’t have been like this,” Theo whispers. His voice shakes. “None of it should have been like this. She deserved better than what she got, Jake. So much fucking better.”
“But you’re avoiding her,” I point out softly. “That’s not going to fix anything. Loitering in the corners of the Center isn’t going to help her either.”
Theo stares down at his hands, his jaw tight. “I don’t want her to have to…seeme.”
It takes me a moment to understand. “You’re not him. She always knew that.”
“Every time she saw my face, it would have reminded her of Brett,” he says harshly. “How could it not? I can’t even look at myself without seeing him. It feels like he’s still fucking here, Jake. And every time I see myself, it’s a reminder of how much I have fucked this up. How much I am responsible for this. ForKenny. I should have known better.”
“He—,”
“Hell, I did fucking know,” Theo snaps. He sinks forward, gripping his hair. “I knew something wasn’t right. We all felt it. But he was my brother. My twin. I should have known. I should have protected her, but I wasn’t fuckingthere.”
His voice cracks, breaks. “And it was so much easier to blame her. To hold onto that fucking voicemail when I didn’t have anything else, butI. Should. Have. Fucking. Known. And I can’t fix it, Jake. But I can try to stay away. Maybe… maybe she can heal that way. I’m not going far. I can’t – I can’tleaveher. Not again. But if we can bring her back… she’s not going to want me. And I don’t blame her.”
He's going to tear himself apart. Trying to force a distance nobody wants. I can see the desperation in every line of his face.
My hand settles on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. “Theo—,”
“I’m just like him,” he says darkly. “Look what I did to her. I tried to use my bark on her. I pushed her and hurt her – we’re one and the fucking same.”
“You’re not the fucking same,” I snap. “Jesus, Theo. Brett had somethingwronginside him.”
