“This is it?”
He smirked.“What were you expecting?Dungeons and darkness?It’s just a house, with a few safety features and cameras.But it can’t be traced back to me.”
She got out of the car, rain smattering against her eyes.The house was on the small side, painted white, with stairs leading to the shining red front door.It reminded her of an apple.They struggled up the steps, Drew leading the way.He typed a keycode into the door, and then they were inside.It was charming, cozy really, not the type of house you’d think of when you heard the wordbillionaire.This was more like a family home, with a sitting room, kitchen with a dining area, and downstairs bathroom.
“I’ll show you to your room,” he said, carrying her belongings.
Upstairs was a larger bathroom with the promised tub, and three bedrooms.Hers was simple, painted white, with a double bed and chest of drawers.
“It’s not much, but it’s safe.”
He put her belongings down with such care, running his fingers through his rain-drenched hair.She had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him, to reassure him.
“It’s all I need,” she said.“I’ll get cleaned up and meet you downstairs.”
He nodded, leaving her to it.She pulled on some dry, comfy clothes, readying herself for what was to come, for the conversation she was about to have.She spoke with all sorts of people on a daily basis, no two days were the same.But calling parents to tell them their son they thought was dead, the son they buried, is actually alive and they are in danger ...yeah, not something she’d done before.But she could do this.She was Alana Montague.She came from nothing and worked her way up to this.She could do this.At that thought, she made her way downstairs, spreading a few papers out on the kitchen table.Drew was nowhere in sight.She pulled up a chair, took a deep breath and dialed their number before she could change her mind.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and her traitorous heart almost skipped a beat in joy when no one answered.Until they did.On the last ring.Her eyes flew open.
“Hello?”
“Hello, am I speaking to Mr.Davis?”
“Yes, you are.Who’s calling?”
“My name is Alana Montague, and I’m afraid what I’m about to tell you is going to come as a shock.Are you sitting down?”
There was silence on the other end of the line, until she finally heard some mumbling.
“I’ve got my wife with me.What is it?”
The whole sorry story came spilling out of her mouth.How she was a friend of their son who had to fake his own death for their safety and his own, but his past had caught up to him and now they were in danger, how she had organized everything for them, new identities, new lives.
She stopped speaking, pausing for breath.When she heard nothing, she worried that the call had disconnected.
“He’s okay?He’s safe?”
“He is,” she answered his mom.Her heart cracked a little.
“We’ve known.We’ve always known in our hearts.”
Then his dad was back on the line.“Tell us what we need to do.”
So, she did.She admired their attitudes, their calmness.How they were holding it all together she didn’t know, but she was grateful they were.
“Is he with you?Can we speak to him?”
A creak of a floorboard behind her.She whipped around to find Drew standing there, a shard of moonlight casting across his broken face.He shook his head, swallowing deeply.
“I’m so sorry, he’s not.But I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he can be.”
The lies tasted bitter on her tongue, like she had swallowed ash.
“Well, thank you, Alana.He’s lucky to have you.”
And I him, she added silently, before they said their goodbyes and hung up the phone.She placed it on the table, pushing it away from her like that would push away all of the stress, the lie she had just told.
“They are good people.I can’t lie to them again, Drew.”She turned to face him.“I grew up in foster homes my whole life.My parents didn’t want me, they threw me away at the first chance they got.You don’t know how lucky you are.”
