The street was almost empty at this hour—a lone car traveled in the opposite direction, and otherwise, an abandoned stretch of flickering orange lights, a Taco Bell still glowing brightly and open for business, a kid pushing carts in a Harmons parking lot.
The on-ramp to I-15 was ahead.Jem needed to go north, go home, try to figure out why he’d agreed to help when he knew he was stepping on a landmine.
Instead of turning, Jem drove past the on-ramp.He turned into a brightly lit Maverik lot and parked at the fuel island, and then he sat there, phone in one hand.People did that all the time—stopped to fuel up and then dicked around on their phones.Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the street.
About ten seconds later, a vehicle drove past.Not a truck—an SUV.He couldn’t tell the make or model.It had a license plate, but by the time he had a good angle on it, the SUV was already too far away.
Dark paint.He wouldn’t have put money on it being green, but itmighthave been.
Jem got out of the Subaru.He pumped gas.Watched the street.A few more vehicles drifted past, sedans and minivans, but nothing that looked like it might have been the SUV that had followed him from BoomTawk.Thatmighthave followed him from BoomTawk.If he wasn’t just paranoid because Ammon put the idea in his head.
He drove home.
I-15 back to Salt Lake, and then I-80 east, exit at 1300 East, and then surface roads past the university and the hospital and into the neighborhood of older homes where he and Tean lived.The windows of their brick bungalow threw yellow light across the wide porch.Jem eased the Subaru into the garage.And then he sat there.
This was part of how he came home.Eight hours at BoomTawk, sometimes more.All that noise.The fluorescent lights.Call after call, cranking himself up for each one so that he sounded cheery and personable, so whoever was on the other end wouldn’t hang up as soon as he opened his mouth.He’d learned the hard way that if he went straight inside, his jaw still tight, his shoulders stiff, he’d snap at Tean and get annoyed with Scipio and—
Why in thefuckhad he called her mom?
It didn’t mean anything; it had just popped out.And shewashis mom, right?Technically.And he’d still been tense from his shift, been tired and hungry, his brain full of that white noise they pumped in, and he’d just wanted to get off the call, just wanted to stop talking.That was why he’d said it, probably.Because he knew it’d get her off the phone.
He pressed fingertips against his face, like he was making sure everything was in place, and got out of the car.
Inside, the house smelled like hot potatoes and taco seasoning.Scipio was easing himself off the sofa, stretching his back legs, tail threatening to knock Tean’s book onto the floor.Tean was in the kitchen, standing next to the air fryer, which was making a whirring noise.
“Hey,” Tean said.“You’re late.”
Jem crouched to let Scipio give him kisses.The Lab pressed into him, working his head across Jem’s body, squeezing into the space under Jem’s arm, twisting around to slam Jem’s knee with one hip—all in an attempt to make as much contact as possible.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Jem said.“It’s almost eleven.I told you to eat dinner whenever you want.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Tean said.
The doc’s wild hair was always wilder at the end of the day—he’d been pushing a hand through it while he read, Jem guessed.Behind the black-framed glasses, his eyes were red.He was trying to sound cheery, which just told you how bad it was, because the real Tean never tried to sound cheery.And if Jem asked what was wrong, Tean would say,Nothing, and if Jem pushed, Tean would shut down, and if Jem went along and pretended everything was okay, well, that was even worse somehow.
Tean said, “I meant—” He broke off to accept a kiss from Jem.“Hi.I meant, did something happen?”
“Just had to stop for gas.”He gave Tean another considering look.“Did Daniel call again?”
Tean’s little exhalation sounded helpless.“No.But he will.”
And to be fair, that was probably true.Tean might have managed to cut Ammon out of his life—so far, anyway—but he hadn’t been as lucky with Ammon’s son.The boy had been calling for weeks.And so far, Tean had been putting him off more or less successfully.For a moment, Jem wanted to link the phone calls to what Ammon had told him, but Daniel’s phone calls had started long before he’d gotten scared at Rainbow House.At the same time, though, it was hard to dismiss the calls at this point.
“I don’t know what he wants,” Tean said into the silence.
“Maybe we should find out.”
“He calls me and then he doesn’t say anything.”
“Maybe there’s a reason he’s calling.”
“Then why doesn’t he come out and say it?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what to say.”
“But why does he want to talk to me?What am I supposed to tell him?It’s going to be okay?It’s not going to be okay.I’m not going to lie to him.”
As Scipio nosed into Jem’s hand, in case Jem had forgotten him, Jem made himself say neutrally, “How was therapy?”
