“We’ve got you,” Chloe whispers, brushing his hair away from his face. “Theo’s got you.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears, and I think this might be the strangest situation I’ve ever been in. It’s certainly the first time I’ve ever saved someone’s life.
But right now, in this moment, I want to be as far from death as possible.
41
CHLOE
Theo wraps Oliver up in his jacket and carries him back to my car. I trail behind them, my heart heavy with worry. At least the trek back doesn’t seem to take as long as the trail to find him; in the end, Oliver was only about five minutes off from the freeway. It had felt like hours, following behind Theo as he glided through the snow like a bloodhound.
I don’t let myself think of all the reasons why he was able to do that. All the lives he must have taken, learning how to track a scent. All that matters is he found Oliver before it was too late.
The car is waiting where we left it, sitting askew on the snow and ice. I blast the heat as high as I can as Theo settles into the passenger seat, Oliver still clinging to him. He looks at me over the snow-frosted mop of Oliver’s hair, his brow furrowed with worry.
“How is he?” I sign, and I hope Theo knows what I mean. He can sense things—heartbeats, breath. I know that.
Theo shifts his arms around Oliver, who’s still trembling in his thin jacket. “Alive,” he says.
I swallow, my throat dry. “Oliver?” His name comes out in a rasp. “Are you able to sign?”
Oliver stirs, which does make me feel a little better. But when he looks over at me, terror slams through me again. His skin is pale, his lips still vaguely bluish, his eyes sunken. He blinks.
I look at Theo again, and I wish I could know what he’s thinking. The urgency with which he tracked down Oliver—it was frightening, honestly, knowing how he knew to do it. But I’m grateful for it, too.
“What were you doing out here?” I ask gently.
Oliver lifts his hands, and that’s when I see the blood smeared against his knuckles. “Where’d you get those?” I gasp, pulling his hands toward me. They’re covered in cuts.
He pulls them back to sign, “Windows.” Then he says, “Can we go home now?”
My blood pounds in my ears. “You mean back to your foster parents?”
Oliver’s reaction is immediate. His whole body stiffens, and his eyes go wide, and he shakes his head furiously. Theo’s expression changes, too. It turns dark and stern and intense. I might have been scared in any other circumstance.
Around Oliver’s body, he signs, “He’s afraid.”
My heart thuds. “Did your foster parents do something to you, Oliver?” The heat blasts out of the vents, making the car feel too hot, too stuffy. At least for me. Oliver needs it, surely. He needs a hospital, truth be told.
“They hate me,” Oliver signs. “Like my parents. Please take me home.”
Theo meets my gaze, and for a second, I feel like I know what he’s thinking, the way he always seems to know what I’m thinking. Home is the peninsula. But I suppose my house will do.
“You’re hurt,” I say gently.
“Home,” Oliver signs, then buries his head into Theo’s arm. Theo wraps Oliver up protectively and stares at me, his eyesbright as the snow. “Take him home,” he signs against Oliver’s shivering back.
And so I do. I turn the car around, inch by terrifying inch, so that we’re driving away from Rockingstead. Away from a hospital. Away from the foster parents, whatever they did. I know I should call Sofia, but I tell myself I’ll do it when we’re back at my house.
The car rumbles across the half-melted ice. I squeeze the steering wheel. “Keep checking on him,” I say aloud to Theo, too afraid to take my eyes off the road. “If anything seems wrong?—”
Theo puts his hand on my thigh, a reassuring pat.Yes, I will.
By the time I pull into my driveway, my skin is sheened with clammy sweat from the heater. Oliver seems better, though. He shifts around in Theo’s arms, and his face has much more color. Theo carries him carefully into the house, like he’s afraid Oliver might break, and sets him down on the couch.
Oliver clings to him, his little fists grabbing onto Theo’s jacket. But Theo makes a low, calming sound until Oliver lets go. “You’re safe,” he signs. “Chloe will help you.”
With that, Oliver looks over at me. The snow’s melted in his hair, turning it damp. He’s not shaking anymore.
But god, he still looks haunted.
