When I pull up to the trailer, I don’t think I even turn the engine off. I just throw it in park with the handbrake on and run for the door. There’s still yelling, but not crashing and screaming, so my heart rate eases up just an iota.
The noise that the door makes when I yank it open makes me wince, because I think that might have been the final death knell in us needing to replace the damn thing, but I can worry about that later. Inside, I find kind of what I was expecting, kind of not.
“Silas!”
Sky runs for me as soon as she sees me. She looks like she’s been crying, but she isn’t right now, and seems content to throw herself into my arms. I hoist her up until she’s balanced on one hip with her arms looped around my neck, even though she’s getting a little too big for it at ten years old, and keep my eyes on everyone else.
Maddi is moving towards me slowly. Her phone is in her hand, but I think the screen is broken. Her face is set in anger, gray eyes flashing precipitously, just the way Cade’s do, and it makes her look more like him than ever. She’s fourteen now, and every day she looks more and more like her brother, somehow.
She keeps moving steadily until she’s standing next to me, and I take a step forward to put her behind me, feeling her fingers tangle in the back of my shirt for comfort once I do.
Of course, the person here who looks the most like Cade is Kyle.
The one and only time I met him, I was amazed how similar they seem. The same lean but muscular build, the exact same perma-tanned skin tone and dark, perpetually messy hair. The same slate-gray eyes and high cheekbones.
But where Cade’s all combine to make him look like a model who got lost in the discount section of a Dollar Tree, Kyle looks gaunt. Still strong enough to be intimidating, but with that thin-skin-stretched-over-bone thing that you get from too much meth and not enough decent food. His eyes have a hint of crazy to them, of course, and his fingers are twitchy with uncontrollable anxious energy.
He was pacing the living room and smoking a cigarette when I walked in, but now he’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of me, the intruder, with his daughters in hand.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“Go get in my truck and lock the doors.”
Sky makes a sound of protest when I put her back on her feet, but Maddi grabs her hand and hauls her through the door. I plant myself in front in case Kyle makes a run for them, but he stays still, continuing to focus on me.
At least that probably means he didn’t come for them. I know an abrupt custody battle for some perceived value has always been one of Cade’s biggest fears.
“Kris?”
I don’t know what I’m asking her. I guess I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.
Cade’s mom is standing in the corner, also smoking a cigarette. She looks upset and a little mussed, but not visibly bruised and about as sober as she always is, as far as I can tell. That seems like a good sign.
She sighs like she’s trying to expel so much breath from her lungs that they’ll never refill themselves again.
“Get out, Kyle. We don’t want you here. See?”
Kyle scoffs. “Is this your new boy toy or something?”
I wrinkle my nose without thinking, because no thank you, and Kris lets out a humorless laugh.
“Just get out. You know what Cade’ll do when he sees you. I don’t know what you thought was gonna happen. You fuck off all these times and then when you need a place to squat, we’re what? Just supposed to roll the red carpet out for you and your skank?”
What?
“Watch who you’re calling skank, lady. I didn’t come here to start a fight but I’ll rip that hair out of your head if I have to.”
It takes me a second to figure out where the new voice is coming from. I take a step slightly deeper inside, and realize the person was tucked away in a corner so I couldn’t see her.
She’s rail thin, just like Kyle, but clearly closer to my age than his. Yikes. She has light blonde hair and pale skin showing undera lot of bronzey makeup, and I can’t quite figure out if her short but willowy stature—highlighted by super-skinny jeans and a fleece-lined bomber jacket—makes her look delicate or tough.
Tough, I decide. Like battered steel: thin but durable. The bored expression on her face tells me this isn’t her first time in a weird, conflict-heavy situation as well. Which is understandable, I guess. This is no one’s first time. I’d also be bored if I weren’t so invested in the outcome.
“What’s going on?” I ask again, still confused about why Kyle’s here.
“I’m still waiting to hear who the fuck you are, that’s what.”
Kyle stalks up to me as he says it, emanating aggressive energy, his movements loose and his hands out, making his implicit threat as obvious as possible.
