Jake stood there, breathing hard like every inhale was a fight. He was thinner than last week. The scruff on his jaw had grown out more.
Before I could say another word, he shook his head in disgust. Lip curled, he turned away from the circle and walked out. His stomping footfalls were audible all the way up the stairs as he climbed to the main floor of the library.
No one in the group spoke for a long moment. The sound of the electric fireplace filled the space, as if its warmth could soothe away the tension.
Mara Ellison broke the heavy silence. Her voice was soft and quiet. She helped run the library with her grandmother.
“He’s scared.” She tucked a long, dark lock of hair behind her ear. “This has been hard for all of us, but the best we can do is not let it control us. We have the power to choose how we react to the hard things.”
The simple truth of it loosened the knot in the room. People exhaled. A few nodded. I caught Mara’s eye and gave a wan smile.
I kept the session going another twenty minutes, but no one’s heart was in it after that. Words came out flat, as if everyone had used up their energy.
Later, when the chairs were stacked and most had left, Mara lingered to help me wipe tables and clean the coffee machine.
She smiled faintly. “Well, that was an interesting session.”
“I shouldn’t have let Jake go on like that.” I shook my head.
Mara shrugged a thin shoulder. “It could have gone worse.”
I studied her. Mara was probably one of my closest friends, besides my brothers. With all the time I spent in the library, she was someone who was easy to talk to. It had been her idea to start the survivors group. After everything she had been through in her life, she was a true testament of strength.
“Thank you for your help.” I took the cleaning spray and rags from her. “And thanks for letting us use this space.”
She tilted her head at me. “Is everything okay?”
I gave her a look, and she sighed. “I mean, besides the whole Jake situation.”
I took my time putting away the cleaning supplies, thinking about her question. My initial reaction was to say that I was fine. Of course I was fine. I had to be, didn’t I?
But I wasn’t sure that was true. I felt…off. I had known it was likely my work in Amos Anderson’s case would get thrown out. The prosecution had planned for that possibility, but it still felt like I had failed in some way.
I didn’t say any of that to Mara, though. She waited, patient as ever, her big, amber-brown eyes full of concern. She shouldn’t be worried about me. She’d had enough worry for a lifetime.
Putting on my most convincing grin, I nodded. “I’m good, Mara. It’s just the heaviness around town, lately. But it will pass.”
She considered me, and for a moment I thought she’d seen through my lie, but then she gave a small nod. “Okay, but you need to take care of yourself, all right?”
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “You, too.”
A small smile curled her lips, and together we walked up the stairs, turning off the lights in the basement behind us.
After Mara walked me out and locked the doors of the library behind me, I breathed in the cool, clean night air. I leaned against my car parked in the tiny parking lot, trying to clear my head, cataloging the evening as if it were a case study: Group anxiety elevated. Individual escalation triggered by proximity to trial. Facilitator response insufficiently neutral.
The last note made me huff a laugh under my breath. Clinical detachment. I was the best at it.
But when I turned to my car and got inside, I found myself not going straight home. It was late. Dinner had long passed, so I had no reason to stop by my parents’ house.
Still, I slowed as I neared the bed-and-breakfast. I didn’t stop, but glanced toward a window on the second floor—the only one where the light was still on.
I told myself I was making sure everything looked safe there, after everything Jake had said.
But the longer I stared, slowing even more, I wondered whether that was the truth, or whether I was lying to myself.
5
Quinn
