“Well. I’m pretty broke so I can’t afford to buy one. And I have too many other priorities. Have you seen my car?”
That elicits a small smile. “My dad has a house.”
“It’s yours too.” I look over at him as I brake hard at a red light.
“It was mom’s too,” he ventures.
I swallow, thinking about how badly I put my foot in the shit back at the campsite. “Yeah,” I mumble so I don’t repeat history.
“She died,” he says.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I was a baby so it doesn’t matter.” By the look on his face, it does matter, a lot. But I don’t respond because I can’t think of the right words.
The conversation’s over anyway and he closes himself off again as the light turns green.
I make a right turn and pull up to the curb in front of mom’s house. “See,” I say. “That’s small talk.”
He nods as he steps out of the car and stares at the garishly pink house. “I see why you want a house of your own.”
I laugh. “After you meet my mother, you’ll understand how really desperate I am.”
Mom’s not home when we get inside, but Brambles is and he’s stoked to see Oscar. Once again, I’m shredded cabbage.
Oscar boxes with him until the dog settles, then he straightens up. “So what’re we gonna do?”
I think of how badly I need a job, but I can’t take Oscar with me to track down criminals and I can’t leave him alone so I’m fucked. “What do you do when you’re at home or the clubhouse?”
He shrugs as he steps into the living room and looks around curiously. “Hang with my friends, do some gaming.”
I almost say that Henri has a PlayStation 4 and he can use that, but it’s in her bedroom and she likes the Sims and other cozy games, which might give Oscar more ammunition to use against her. Also, I don’t think I should let Henri’s worst enemy invade her privacy.
“I guess we’ll have to do something together then. Like…” I try to think about what Henri and I did together lately. Nothing, Selkie. Not lately.
Fuck off, goddamn conscience.
“Do you like murder houses or escape rooms?”
His eyes light up, but he says casually, “I don’t mind them.” Like Henri, he’s at the be-cool stage of life.
Just then mom arrives.
“Selkie,” she calls. “What’s your car doing here? I thought you were camping.”
“Hi to you too, mom,” I say as she tracks me down.
“Elle,” she reminds me absently as her eyes travel to Oscar. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Oscar mumbles as he takes a small step backward.
“Relax,” I say. “She’s not going to hug you. Ten years from now, maybe. But not now.”
“I’m Elle,” mom says. “And you are?”
I fill in the blank. “Oscar Brody.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Nathan’s son?”
