We drove back to the construction site in silence. Bo let it ride, didn’t press, just turned up the radio and drummed his fingers on the wheel.
But all the way home, I kept feeling the weight of her stare. Like maybe this whole house thing, this life thing, was a sandcastle and she was the ocean, waiting to drag me back under.
I pressed my wrist to my mouth, biting down on the inside of my arm until I tasted metal, and told myself: This is real. This is mine. You don’t let go of something like this.
Not for anything. Not for anyone.
Not even her.
Bo was a world-class avoider of awkwardness, but he also had this uncanny way of waiting you out—like if he just stayed quiet long enough, you’d confess every dark secret on your own. He kept one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other picking through the paper sack for something he could eat one-handed. We hadn’t spoken since the diner, and I could feel thewords stacking up behind my teeth, waiting for an excuse to spill out.
The world blurred by in streaks of river water and roadside poppies. I stole a look at my reflection in the side mirror, just to check if I looked as wrecked as I felt. My skin was washed out, almost green, the blue of my eyes dialed up to max in the mid-morning sun.
I flexed my left hand, waiting for the tremor to go away, but it just kept shaking harder, like my body was short-circuiting. I shoved both hands into the belly of my hoodie, squeezing them into fists so tight it hurt. The bracelet dug into my wrist, just above the tattoo, a perfect slice of pain that reminded me: you’re not alone, you’re not a stray anymore.
Bo caught the movement. He glanced sideways, one eyebrow raised. “You want a sandwich?” he asked, voice neutral, like he wasn’t sure if I’d answer or combust on the spot.
“I’m good,” I managed. “Just not hungry.”
He let it go, eyes back to the road.
I looked up at the rearview again. She was gone. Or maybe she’d never been there at all. I tried to remember if I’d really seen her, or just built her out of paranoia and the static of old memories. The more I tried to convince myself it was a hallucination, the less I believed it.
At the next stop sign, Bo slowed, then double-checked the intersection three times before turning. “Want to talk about it?” he said, softer now.
I shook my head, but my voice came out anyway. “You ever think you saw a ghost, but then it’s not a ghost at all? It’s, like, something worse?”
He took his foot off the gas. “That’s heavy,” he said, but not in a mocking way. Just facts.
I pressed my forehead to the window, the glass icy against my skin even with the heat blasting. “When I was a kid, Iused to imagine my mom would show up out of nowhere. Like, she’d just come and claim me. I’d spend all night playing out how it’d happen, all the stuff I’d say to her.” I could feel Bo listening, a solid wall of patience beside me. “But then I grew up and realized, if she really wanted me, she would’ve come back already. And after a while, the only thing scarier than seeing her again was that I might never have to.”
Bo didn’t say anything right away. He drove, careful and slow, like every pothole was a trigger.
I took a deep breath, then another, trying to slow my pulse, but the air just rattled in my chest. “She was outside the diner,” I said, finally. “I’m pretty sure it was her. She looked right at me, but I don’t think she recognized me.”
He thought about that for a second, then nodded. “You want me to turn around?”
“No.” My hands were sweating now, the inside of my hoodie clammy and gross. “I just need to get home.”
“Copy that,” Bo said. He took the next curve at twice the speed limit.
We crossed the bridge out of town, the river glittering below, and I watched the sky get lighter, then darker again as we wound through the trees. My brain was still stuck on the woman’s face, the way she moved, the cold, glassy eyes.
I tried to think about the house instead—about the way the light would hit the reading nook, the sound of Quiad’s boots on the porch, the way his hand covered mine when he reached for it in the dark.
But the fear wouldn’t go away. It crept up my spine, pooling at the base of my skull. What if she came looking for me? What if she found me? Did she have a claim? Did I even matter enough for her to try?
We pulled into the gravel lot at the build site, the truck’s wheels kicking up a rooster tail of dust. The construction guyswere already outside, eating sandwiches on the tailgate and trading dirty jokes. They shouted at us, but I didn’t hear a word of it. Bo put the truck in park and shut off the engine.
I stayed there, staring straight ahead.
He waited. I could feel him watching me.
“Hey, Levi?”
I didn’t answer.
He tapped my shoulder, just a little. “You’re safe here. You know that, right?”
