Page 107 of Goode Tidings

"I'm guessing that means Oliver's not here." Justin sneers. "Unless you're the kind of mom who doesn't give a shit what her kid hears."

Callum is lightning fast. He gathers Justin's shirt, uses it to shake him. "Imply that Eden's a bad mom one more time."

Callum's three inches taller than Justin, and far more in-shape. "That's not what I was saying," he argues, batting at Callum's grip on him.

Callum releases him and steps back to my side. "Make sure that it's not."

Justin straightens his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Well, Eden, let me see." He lifts a lone finger in the air. "This is my cabin." A second finger joins the first. "And my son lives here."

"You're supposed to be in Thailand." My grasp around the sheet tightens. "A heads-up would've been nice."

His lip curls as he looks us over. "I'm sure you would've loved to get dressed. Probably would've lied to me about whatever it is the two of you are doing."

"We wouldn't have needed to lie about a thing," I say through clenched teeth. "We're not sneaking around."

Justin huffs a disbelieving breath. "Come on, what are you? Together?"

Callum and I have not had that conversation fully, and there's no way we'll be determining anything with an audience.

"Oliver's not here," I say flatly, instead of answering his question.

"So, you're letting him run wild?" Justin's eyes move nervously toward Callum. He knows the implication of that question.

"He's away on a school field trip," I answer quickly. Callum is tense beside me, and hitting Justin in the mouth so he can't talk anymore is a very real possibility.

"Where?" Justin asks.

"Camping. It's part of his survivalist elective that⁠—"

"He told me all about his survivalist elective," Justin interrupts.

Over the years, Justin has earned himself a degree in overstating his involvement with Oliver. Told me all about is probably more like he mentioned it once and I didn't ask any probing questions because I'm a selfish asshole.

"Cool. Then I guess you already knew he wouldn't be here."

"I forgot," he lies. "I'm jet-lagged."

I nod like I believe him. "Did you bring your wife?"

"That's over," he says, and for a moment I feel bad for him. The feeling evaporates when he says, "Feel free to go put some clothes on."

Justin is childish on a good day, but this is a new level of petulant.

"Feel free to be an absentee father for a couple more days," I bite back. He's right, though. We need to put some clothes on. So I tell him, "Go sit in the living room and we'll be right back."

"I'll sit wherever I please," he volleys, even when he's already walking in that direction. "It's my cabin, remember?"

Callum grabs my hand and leads me down the hall, kicking the door closed after I've stepped through. "I punched him once when we were kids. Right in the face. Earned a suspension from school. I already know how good it feels to shut him up with a fist."

"He wants you to," I say, tossing the sheet on the bed. "He'll call the police, and Ernest will show up with flecks of icing from his raspberry danish stuck in his mustache, and he'll haul you away, even if he feels conflicted about it."

Callum digs in the dresser drawer I never cleared out. He finds a shirt and pulls it on. "I hate that Justin's holding something over me. The worst thing to give a little gremlin like him is leverage."

"Let's do our best to figure out why he's really here." I yank on my jeans and a sweatshirt.