“Gimme,” I said, swiping it from her before she could changeher mind. I tore it open and shoved an entire licorice rope into my mouth.
“My favorite anniversary gift ever,” I said around the chew.
She laughed with no hesitation this time. Then she reached back into the bag.
“And for me?” she teased.
“Don’t do it.” I lunged for the bag. “Keep your Twizzlers away from my perfect anniversary.”
She dodged me and hid it behind her back. We both laughed. Then she pulled out another pack of Red Vines, tore it open, and popped one into her mouth.
I stared at her. “What happened to your lifelong vow never to convert?”
She met my eyes.
“Turns out,” she said, “I love you more than Twizzlers.”
39
MICHELLE: BRING ME TO LIFE
I pulled into the driveway with the little kids chattering behind me, their voices a blur of normalcy I clung to more than I cared to admit. Jake was already reaching for the door and was out of the car before I’d fully stopped. He hated that I made him come along on the pickups, but he wasn’t trustworthy enough to leave behind. Jake limped toward the front door, going as fast as his damaged knee allowed.
“Jake.”
I heard it at the same time he did. Dalton was standing at the edge of our driveway, his skateboard tucked under his arm. He’d grown taller, and his features were more angled, but the look on his face was achingly hopeful. Like he knew this might hurt but had come anyway.
Jake turned his head just enough to see him. One nod. That was all. Acknowledgment without invitation.
“Hey, so…” Dalton took a step closer. “Do you… I don’t know. Want to hang out for a while?”
I saw Jake slow, and for one fleeting second, my heart kicked up. I thought he might turn around and accept the offer. But hedidn’t. Jake shook his head and went inside. Quinn and Grace followed.
Dalton didn’t move right away. He stood there, staring at the house. He hadn’t been inside for seven months, since the morning of the kidnapping. He dropped his gaze, blinking hard, and adjusted his grip on his board. I saw how much effort it took for him to hold it together.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, crossing the driveway.
He shook his head quickly, trying to smile, but it came out crooked. “It’s okay. I just thought… maybe today would be a good day.”
Oh, Dalton, I thought. Good days in our house weren’t something you could schedule.
“I just want to help him,” Dalton said, his voice catching. “I don’t even care if he talks. I just want him to know I’m still his friend. That I didn’t go anywhere.”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. He was solid beneath my palm. Grounded. Everything my son used to be without effort.
“He knows,” I said. “Even when he can’t show it… he knows.”
“Okay.” Dalton nodded, drawing in a steadying breath. “Then I’ll keep asking. Just… not today.”
“Not today,” I echoed.
I watched him go, skateboard scraping concrete, grieving a friendship neither boy had chosen to lose.
“Scott!”I yelled, trying my best to control the panic. “I need you!”
It was my third shout, each one louder and more desperate.
“Where are you?” he called, close now.
