Page 112 of Freefall

“Nate?” She cocks her head to the side before shaking it. “No, Nate’s just a little boy.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you here, Brian? I told you I could handle the kids on my own.” She turns to me. “Who is this woman in my house?”

My heart sinks as I glance over at Daisy, who has gone completely still. Gram follows my gaze. “Emmy, for goodness’ sake, what have you done to your hair?”

Daisy lifts a blonde lock to inspect it. “I…”

“Gram,” Nate tries again but is interrupted by one of the employees.

“Mrs. Jannsen,” she says warmly. “Why don't we head back to your room so you can rest for a while?”

“My room?”

“Yes.” She smiles and offers Gram her hand. “It’s just this way.”

Gram looks around at the four of us one last time before finally taking the woman’s hand.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Nate as soon as they disappear around the corner. “Our being here was too much.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes are still glued to the hallway where Gram went. “Sometimes she gets confused and thinks I’m my dad, and we're still kids.”

“Is there something wrong with my hair?” Daisy asks, shifting around to try to get a better look at it.

“No, Daisy girl. Nothing is wrong. Gram must have thought you were Emory and was confused by your blonde hair.” He holds his hand out for her, and she takes it. “Why don't we all head back, and I’ll make us some lunch?”

Daisy nods, but I don’t miss the way Nate flexes his other hand. Or the way he grips the wheel, tapping it twice with his thumb as we pull out of the parking lot. He repeats the pattern every so often during the entire drive home.

Grip, tap, tap.

Grip, tap, tap.

I wish I knew how to help him. How to calm his anxiety. But I also don’t want to draw too much attention to it, especially in front of Daisy. Nate wouldn’t want that. No matter how much he downplays what just happened, I know it shook him. Gram’s illness is something he can’t control, and that must scare the shit out of him.

I started noticing these little rituals back in college. He’d tap the wall twice before climbing into bed. Avoid stepping on cracks on the sidewalk. I always thought he had random superstitions I didn’t understand, but now as I watch his thumb tap against the steering wheel for the tenth time, it all makes sense.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss the figure sitting on the stairs outside the guesthouse when we pull into the driveway.

It’s not until we get closer that I really see him.

Red-rimmed eyes

Ripped jeans.

That same bloodstained sweatshirt.

Jace.

28

NATE

“Daisy, go up to Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” Harper says as soon as I turn off the engine.

“What? Why?” she protests. “I thought we were going to have lunch?”

“Grandma will make you lunch.”

Daisy unbuckles her seatbelt and hops out of the car, but the second we hear her squeal of delight, we both jump out of the car. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the man sitting in front of the guesthouse, glassy-eyed and covered in bruises, is Harper’s brother.

“Uncle Jace!” Daisy calls as she runs toward him.