Even now, I don’t feel like talking about it. The memories are enough. Apparently, Norah feels the same way.
A few minutes later, we walk down the stairs in silence and head for my car, which someone had retrieved from its spot by the river.
“Get in,” I say to Norah and nod toward the passenger seat. With a slight creak, I open the driver’s door, the scent of old leather filling my nostrils as I lower myself into the seat. I stare at the interior for a moment, letting my fingers curl around the steering wheel. The last time I drove this car feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then. I pull myself together, grab my keys, and insert the right one into the ignition. The engine roars to life, and after backing up, we pull out onto the road.
“It’s so damn unfair,” Norah whispers as we pull into the Paisleys’ driveway.
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, leaning on the steering wheel, both arms resting on it like I’m too tired to hold myself up. I stare at the front door. “She should be walking through that door. Not us. She should be the one raising Brandon. Not you. With all due respect…”
“You don’t need to say it,” Norah cuts in, her voice soft as she lowers her head. “She was his wife. His mom. That was her place. I’m grateful you’re all letting me stay, I really am, but yeah… you’re right. This isn’t how it should’ve gone.”
I whip around to face her, heart suddenly pounding. “Youdoknow I’m not saying you should’ve stayed in that hellhole, right?” My voice cracks on the last word.
She looks up, and there’s a sad smile pulling at her lips. “Of course I know that, Layne. I shouldn’t have been there either. None of us should’ve. She should be here. I should be somewhere—anywhere—else.”
Her freckled face turns toward me, her eyes too wise for someone her age. “No one deserves what happened in that basement. No one should rot in a cage like that. Not even those assholes.”
I shake my head slowly, the rage still coiled just beneath my skin. “Yeah, see… that’s where we’re different. I say let them rot. Lock them in and forget the key. Starve them, slowly. Keep them just alive enough to feel every ounce of what they took from you. Let their muscles waste away while they beg for something warm to eat, and never get it.”
A short, startled laugh bursts from Norah’s throat. “Jesus. There’s a little sadist in you after all.”
I chuckle, the sound catching somewhere between relief and release. “Must’ve inherited that from my dad.”
She laughs too, and for a moment—just one—it feels like we’re not drowning. Like maybe, somehow, we’ll be okay.
As the sound fades away, I look at her. “Shit, I really needed that.” Then I open my car door and get out.
With a heavy heart, I slide the key into the lock. It turns with a quiet click, and I push the door open.
This isn’t a mausoleum, Layne.
Brooks and Brandon live here. It’s their home.
The fact that Jen lived here too… it doesn’t change that.
I inhale deeply and step inside.
“I’ve never actually been to Brooks and Jen’s place,” I say, more to the hallway than to Norah.
She tilts her head. “Seriously? Why not?”
I shrug, staring down at the beautiful rug in the hallway so I don’t have to look at her. “When we were younger, she wasn’t really part of our group. I just saw her a couple of times at the mall. And after I came back… well, we got taken before I had the chance. Jen was Rebel’s teacher, not really someone I ever visited casually.”
I bend down and unzip my biker boots, placing them neatly beside the door. “Come on, let’s go find your room.” I nod toward a door that looks like it leads deeper into the house. When I push it open, I freeze.
My jaw drops.
A large, modern kitchen stretches out in front of me—clean lines, warm light, and a six-person dining table with sturdy chairs.
I step inside, my fingers trailing across the backs of the chairs.
“Good thing there’s a fruit bowl and dishes in the sink,” Norah murmurs behind me. “If not, I wouldn’t even dare touch anything. The rest is spotless.”
I walk farther in and glance around the corner. My eyes land on an enormous U-shaped couch that looks like it could swallow a person whole.
“Damn,” I whisper. “I’d watch movies there every night.” I nudge my chin toward the couch.
Norah doesn’t move. “It’s not going to be my home, Layne,” she whispers.
