Ezra grabbed at my nose and beard. “All real there,” he giggled.
I pulled him into my arms and kissed his head. “I’m all real everywhere, remember that.”
“Good luck out there.”
“We don’t need luck,” I told him.
It was a cheesy moment, but I stopped myself from saying that all we needed was each other.
***
It was over two hundred miles of driving to reach Sugar Bay. We stopped a couple of times on the way, refueling and grabbing supplies. I paid in cash for everything, teaching Ezra how to stayunder the radar and how to pinch the rim of his hat so it would keep his face obscured. It was nice out, summer had ended and the fall chill was in the air. When we eventually reached Sugar Bay in Vermont, the trees were beginning to change color—only slightly.
It was a small, modest-sized town that had Ezra’s face glued to the window, looking around at the row of shops we passed, and the large arena which boasted an ice rink. His puppy dog eyes looked at me, as if he’d already asked the question.
“Once we’re settled,” I said, and hoped this time we could settle for longer than a week.
“You think they’ll find us here?” he asked, leaving a streak of fingers down the window. “If it’s as safe as you said, maybe we’ll be fine.”
That had been the hope. “Only time will tell,” I mustered. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I was such a planner. Everything in my life had a plan to it, even when I was in Sanctum—it was cage match, make money, then relax for a couple of days being bandaged up and using all the new tech, and being forced to drink the sometimes awful health smoothies. “We’ll probably have neighbors coming over. I remember buying this place. The people were very friendly.”
Ezra continued to look out of the window, but his hand searched for me, swatting it around and almost knocking the gearstick before finding me. “It’s a really nice place.”
The house was a small cabin-cottage off a small road, currently covered in leaves and pine needles. We had a view over the river that ran alongside the town and into the bay. As we parked outside, I could see already see a couple—a man and woman in matching green and orange fluorescent beanies and sweaters.
“What do we do?” Ezra asked.
“For starters, we’re married,” I told him. “Your name is—”
“Uh—fake name?”
I nodded, smiling at his innocence. “I’ll be James.”
“I can be Zack, it’s my middle name,” he said with a shrug.
“Perfect.” I leaned and gave him a kiss before we were forced to get out and greet the couple.
They were happy, like super happy, the type where you could see the whites of their eyes from how wide they were opening them. We stood to greet them as they speedwalked up the path to us. I wrapped an arm around Ezra’s shoulders.
“Hi there, I’m Marcie,” she said. “And this is my husband, Rory. He’s got a little Scottish in him.”
“It’s not usual for people to talk about the little Scottish people in them when they first meet,” I said, unable to hold my tongue. Rory went red in the face and laughed, holding out his hand for me. “I’m—I’m James and this is my husband, Zack. He’s not currently occupied by any members—or plugs.” The last part was supposed to be a whisper, but when you were surrounded by all this nature, sound could travel.
“So, what bring you fine folks to Sugar Bay?” Rory asked—or the small Scottish member inside him said.
“We own this place,” I told them. “Investment property, thinking of making the move.”
They glanced at each other, then back to us. “Oh really?” she said. “Well, this place has been vacant for a while. I mean, we did wonder when that godawful for sale sign went down. But we just assumed the owners took it off the market.”
“You knew the previous owners?” I asked.
Once more, they looked at each other. I looked to Ezra, and he was grinning so wide I almost laughed.
“Not really,” Marcie said. “We usually walk the trail through the woods, so we see some of the signs around the base. We live just over there. It’s nice and close, if you ever need a cup of sugar. You know, a little Southern hospitality.”
I had sensed a twang. “Oh, you’re not from here.”
“No, no,” she said. “I’m from Georgia. Couldn’t you tell?”
