Whatever that meant, whatever the reasons, he could see Ember, five years old, going to war for her sister and herself when the world made it clear no one else would fight the way she would.
“I’m sorry you had to,” he said.
She straightened her spine, drew a deep breath as if to make space in her chest. “We had good families, Aaron. We were never split up, and no one mistreated us. So I count my blessings. But we were moved around pretty often, so there’s no Dad and Mom for me to reminisce about. Instead there’s the Dean family, the Camden family, the Rawls family, Jim and Petra, Mike and Donna…and with every name comes a memory of goodbye. Most of the time I’d just rather talk about the exploits of Claire and me.”
“Have you ever seen your folks again?”
“No. One more blessing to count. Though there wasn’t—um, abuse in the way you’re probably thinking. Neglect, but not abuse.”
As if neglect didn’t leave its own deep scars. No wonder she’d come all the way to Lunar Lane for Quinn. Aaron owed her the same openness, especially if he wanted to prove his desire for something real between them, but when he tried to speak of his mom’s hidden tears, his own lostness as an older child, all his words got stuck.
“Enough about me,” Ember said. Then as if they’d never left small talk, “You never answered about Dickens.”
The back door opened and shut.
She sprang to her feet and rushed to the kitchen. “You’re not hurt?”
To pull himself from the past, Aaron focused on Malachi’s voice. The voice of his friend, indeed closer than a brother.
“Just dirty.”
A long sigh from Ember. “I know what you said, but I wasn’t convinced you’d be in one piece.”
“How is he?”
“Had food and Tylenol, still awake.”
Malachi entered the room ahead of her and gave Aaron an appraising stare. Dirt smeared the knees of his jeans and the front of his shirt.
“You finished it,” Aaron said.
Malachi nodded.
A swamped feeling filled Aaron’s chest. He caved into the couch cushion and shut his eyes. In the back of his mind for the last four hours, the bear had been in agony. Because of him. But it was over now. He forced his head up. He couldn’t stay awake any longer, but first he had to say…
“Thank you, Mal.”
Another nod, but Malachi had entered planning mode. “You’re beat. You might as well crash here overnight. But the pup could wake and find you gone, get scared.”
“I left a note,” Ember said, “but that was hours ago, and…” She turned to stare at Aaron. “We didn’t clean the floor. He’ll find your blood. Oh, Aaron, he’s going to be terrified.”
“He knows the way here,” Malachi said. “He’d have come in that case. Likely still asleep.”
“I need to check on him.”
“Take the truck back. I’ll bring Aaron when the sun’s up.”
Unsurprising suggestion. Malachi might be on the road to mutual appreciation, but he’d still prefer a human stranger not spend the night in his house. Kind of hilarious given the time of morning.
“Are you sure?” Ember said.
“Go ahead,” Aaron said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
She moved to his side and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe, Aaron. And I’m glad the bear’s pain is over, for your sake.”
Her words touched one of the deepest truths about him, the thing Malachi called his Achilles heel. The regret that had clobbered him wasn’t in killing an animal to stay alive or to protect his home, but rather in the miserable messiness of the kill. Aaron covered her hand with his. When she alluded to his softness, he felt no shame. He only felt understood.
She must have seen he had no words. She gave his shoulder a final squeeze and said, “Good night.”
