I walk away, and leave him standing there.
Without even thinking about it, I drive straight out to Wildflower. Jo's sitting out front, her knees pulled into her chest. She stands when I park, but stays at the top of the stairs, leaning against the porch railing.
"I know you're probably mad at me," she starts, trailing off, waiting for me to confirm.
I sigh and look up at the sky. It's the darkest part of the night. Fitting, since this also feels like one of the darkest moments of my life. I pride myself on caring for the people I love, even if that means using nontraditional ways, and I failed Mickey and Sara. Whether it was my responsibility or not, I wanted to help them figure out a way out of their mess. I don't know how I thought it all would end up, but I'd prayed this wouldn't be it.
I level my gaze on Jo. Her hair is tied in a messy knot on top of her head, her sweats are as ratty as her shirt. My heart squeezes, and I think about what I'd do if someone hurt her the way Mickey hurt Sara. They'd never get the chance to hurt anybody again, that's for damn sure, and nobody would ever find the body.
"I'm not mad at you, Jo." I'm at odds with my dad. My friendship with Mickey is very likely over. The last thing I want is to have conflict with the woman I love.
I reach for her, and she starts down the steps, placing her hand in mine. I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. The world around us is still, even the insects are asleep. She feels like an anchor, a tether, keeping me attached when everything feels off-kilter.
"Just to let you know," Jo says into my chest, "I take promises seriously. But I'll break them when I think safety is threatened."
I kiss the top of her head. "I wish I'd done the same."
"How so?"
"Sara made me promise not to tell anybody what was happening with Mickey, or call the police. That's a promise I should've broken." The weight of it all pushes down on my shoulders. Now that the problem has grown wings and expanded beyond the four walls of the Schultz home, I see how stupid it was to keep such a thing contained.
Jo palms my cheek, reaching on tiptoe to lightly kiss me. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You like to take care of people. In your own Wyatt way."
I look down at her. "Wyatt way?"
"Outlaw logic," she whispers.
I rub her lower back. "Can I call you Lady Outlaw?"
She laughs. "Hardly. I'm a rule girl."
"I bet you'd break some rules if you had to."
"Let's hope I'm not forced to."
"Can I force you back to bed for some sleep?"
She nods, a yawn widening her mouth at just the mention of sleep, and I follow her inside. At the sight of the closed door at the end of the hall, I ask, "Did Travis wake up?"
Jo shakes her head as she pulls back the comforter. "He's a heavy sleeper." We are exhausted, physically and emotionally, but she needs the same thing I do right now. We slip under the covers, and Jo pulls at me until I'm on top of her. She presses her face to my neck and tells me how scared she was. I push inside of her, and admit how relieved I am it's no longer my burden to carry. I tell her I love her, and she says it back.
Later, when she's asleep with her head on my chest, I find I can't quite calm my mind down. I keep seeing Mickey, the metal bars casting shadows on his face.
I'd been in shadow too, on that day when he found me.
30
Wyatt
Seventeen yearsold
Hunting.
A ritual. A rite of passage.
A Hayden tradition. I remember when Wes went. I remember waving goodbye to Warner when he went. I dreaded knowing I would be next, but I wouldn't be seventeen for two more years, and two years may as well have been ten as far as I was concerned.
Except two years really passed like two months, and today is the day. It's deer season. I want nothing to do with hunting deer. I want everything to do with making my dad happy.
