“Fine.”
“Good boy.”
He punches my arm, and I laugh. The car comes to a stop, and Rick gets out. He takes off his flat cap and runs his gloved hand over his bald head, watery blue eyes darting around as if expecting a secret service agent to drop from the skies and arrest us all.
“Hey, Rick.”
He ignores the greeting. “Who the fuck is that? Where’s Asher?”
A sudden jolt in my chest has me realizing not everyone knows Asher is gone—least of all Rick, who doesn’t watch the news at all.
“This is Z,” I say. “We can trust him.”
“Where the fuck is Asher?” Rick demands.
I haven’t had to say the words in a while, so it takes me a while to summon them.
“Asher’s dead.”
Rick’s face drops, and he leans against the hood of his car.
Everyone liked Asher. It was impossible not to. If he wasn’t a killer, he’d have been the perfect person. A great neighbor, loving husband, attentive dad. His loss is painful for everyone who knew him.
“I’m sorry,” Rick says, and I nod in response. “But you still want out?”
“Yeah. It’ll be me and … my girlfriend.”
Z snorts a laugh. “Loser.”
I look at him over my shoulder. “You’re married.”
“Yeah, exactly. I have a wife, not a girlfriend. What are you, twelve?”
“I’m gonna punch you.”
Rick snaps his fingers. “When? Where to?”
“If it happens, tonight. We’re waiting to hear back about a meeting. The location is the same as before.”
Canada. To cold. Somewhere remote, where a house is already waiting for us. Plenty of land for Motor to stretch his legs. It’s quiet, too, so Ella can write. Maybe I’ll finally teach her how to start a fire. We can stay there a while, then move again until we find somewhere more permanent.
Maybe somewhere near a school.
I don’t know if I can be a dad. I’d have no idea what to do, but I know Hunter will help, even if it’s from a distance. And Ella will make a great mom. Clumsy as fuck and probably forgetful but loving. Attentive.
Picturing her pregnant makes me smile.
Fuck.
What is happening to me?
I iron out the last of the details with Rick, then get backinto the car. Z immediately switches our phones on, and as we head home, I think about Ella.
This can work.
It has to.
Because if it doesn’t, I’m not just losing her anymore. I’m losing out on our future.
