His face shifts through several emotions at once, like he's trying to solve an equation with too many variables.
"It feels like choosing," he says. "Between him and you."
"It's not choosing," I say. "You didn't choose. He did."
"Still feels like it."
"I know," I say. "I know it does."
He looks at the table
"I want both," he says. "That's all. I just want both."
"Me too," Finn says.
Rhys squeezes my hand once without saying anything.
Me too, I think.Me too.
Chase calls back an hour later.
"He's not answering me either," he says. "But I've located him. He's not far. Checked into a motel about forty minutes out."
"Give me the address," Malcolm says immediately.
"Malcolm—"
"The address, Chase."
"He needs time—"
"He's had time. He had time in the woods when he was deciding to blow up our pack without telling any of us. He doesn't get more time." Malcolm sounds like he’s hanging on by a thread. "Give me the address."
Chase is quiet.
"I'll reach out to him," Chase says. "Let him know you're all okay. That the pack is intact." A pause. "Let me try that first."
"And if he doesn't respond?"
"Then we revisit."
Malcolm doesn't look satisfied. But he nods. "One hour."
"Give me until tomorrow morning."
"One hour, Chase."
Chase sighs. "I'll call you back."
He hangs up.
Malcolm sets his phone down, stands up and goes to the window. He looks out at the driveway where Alex's car isn't.
We sit in the kitchen with the empty chair and the silence of a pack that's missing a piece of itself.
Finn gets up eventually and starts making dinner. Nobody asked him to. He just does it like he does everything—competently, because someone has to and he's decided it's him.
Rhys moves from the floor to a chair. I stay beside him.
