“We’ve got time.” Oscar’s chest rises and falls against my cheek. Calm. Steady. Soothing. “No rush. We’re just waiting for Theo, and we’re going.”
But we don’t move. My hand reaches out, searching.
“He’s coming,” Oscar reassures me. “He’s on the phone.”
The door slams, the air around me shifting, and I breathe in the familiar leather musk. “Abrams is going to meet us at the house to check you over, Kenny.”
I force my head into a nod. Theo’s hand slips into my empty one, and I grip it.
They came.
“What was that?” I mumble eventually. “Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Theo murmurs. Anger threads his words, but he softens them. “My father had a role, I suspect. I’m going to find out. But you don’t have to go back there.”
Charles Rivers. He must…hateme. Not enough that Brett put me in there. That he nearly killed me. I don’t understand it, but the pain in Theo’s voice has me falling silent.
My eyes flicker open. I let them adjust, watching the blurry green threads of Oscar’s t-shirt until they sharpen, my eyes clearing. Turning my face, I glance at Theo.
He’s staring out of the lowered window, his face set in a deep frown and the top of his hair blowing messily. But my hand is curled up on his bare knee below the edge of his khaki cargo shorts, his fingers gripping mine. They’re covered in small cuts from the glass. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Theo swivels, scanning me. Lifting my hand, he presses his lips to my wrist. It feels like… reassurance. “They’re not worth that.”
My eyes slip past him, to the trees flashing by. “Thank you for getting me out.”
“What did I say?” Jake’s voice rumbles back to me. “You don’t need to thank us, Ken.”
I shift on Oscar’s lap, his arm slipping behind me and helping me upright. He winds down the window a few inches, and my lips stretch as I breathe in the rush of air. He’s watching me with a small smile. “Good?”
I push up the sleeves of Max’s hoodie with a small nod, curling my legs up and leaning my head against the glass, letting the air blow tangled strands of red across my face. Probably smacking Oscar in the face too, but he doesn’t say anything. Just holds me steady, one arm curved around my waist and the other stretched out along the edge of the window, so I can rest on it.
We drive through Widow’s Peak, and I turn my face away as we pass by Brett’s statue. “Everything looks the same.”
The diner. The stores. All of it so familiar.
“Nothing much ever changes around here.” Max twists in the front seat, his eyes scanning me. “You warm enough?”
Warm? I’msweating. His hoodie sticks to my back, but I’m not wearing anything underneath to take it off. Not that I would. I offer him a small grin. “I’m keeping this hoodie. Please.”
He can still wear it sometimes.
“All yours.” He winks at me, but the concern still fills his eyes. “I hope the house is okay. If we’d known you were coming home, we would’ve cleaned up more.”
“I don’t mind.” It’s not a cell. I look up at the two-story house as Jake pulls into the drive. The color has changed, the outside painted a dark, welcoming blue. Smart looking white shuttered frames line the windows, the flowerbeds that line the ground empty but turned over, ready for planting.
I wouldn’t mind planting some flowers. Maybe they’ll let me.
Jake is smiling at me. A sad sort of smile. “We’ve been trying to get it fixed up. In between everything.”
Me. In between me. “I like it.”
It looks homey. It alwaysdid, but there’s a certainty to everyone’s movements as doors swing open that hits a little harder. “You all moved in?”
“We did.” Max scoops me up from Oscar’s lap.
“I can walk.” I half-protest, but not too much.
“Let me.” He curls me closer to his chest. “Don’t we need to carry you over the threshold for the first time anyway?”
