Page 30

Lexington

You know when something in you is saying there’s something wrong? The alarm bells are going off in your head, a ball of dread sitting in your stomach, but you have no discernible reason for any of it? That had been my life since Friday, suspended in a cold, paralyzing dread. October 22nd had arrived, bringing an oppressive stillness that settled over me like a shroud. My pulse hadn't slowed in three days. The people of that town were sitting ducks, holding their breath to see who would be the next victim.

But the Watcher hadn’t attacked. I had called Detective Ransom the next morning, and the relief in his voice was evident. No one had been taken; every member of the community was still alive the next morning. It was possible we were wrong about the date, but I found it unlikely that after twenty years the trend would stop now.

Unless… whoever was responsible had figured out we were onto the pattern and changed his tactics to keep from getting caught. I called Goldie wanting to talk it over with her, and maybe talk things through, but she hadn’t picked up.

Since that kiss, I couldn’t stop thinking about her—of her eyes that captivated me, the fire that burned deep within. The feel of her smooth skin under my fingertips, her taste so sweet and so addicting. I was enamored with Goldie, and she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Rightfully so.

I still couldn’t fathom how I had forgotten about that first kiss between us. I wanted to blame the alcohol, remembering how hammered I had been, but it was simply to assuage my guilt for hurting her. I wasn't a good man then, filling my life and days with alcohol and women to avoid what I perceived as personal failings.

River saved me from that spiral, reminding me of what was truly important in this world. He made me want to be a better person so I could be a better father, but I was still feeling rather shitty in that department.

I glanced from my desk to the floor where he was lying and drawing in one of his many coloring books. He kicked his legs back and forth softly, his shoes lighting up from the motion, shining in orange and red. He was convinced they made him faster and stronger, and I wasn’t going to correct him.

He must have felt my gaze, as his little head turned to me, tilting to the side in confusion. “What?”

I held back a laugh, because why was he already acting like a teenager at age four? “What are you drawing over there?”

He turned back to his paper, a crayon held tightly in his grip. “Me and you.”

I smiled and stood, rounding my desk and sitting next to him on the floor. I pulled him into my lap and he giggled at the motion, happily plopping into my embrace. I reached around and pulled the drawing into view. It was us… kind of. I loved my kid, but an art career wasn’t in his future.

He had drawn two stick figures, one probably eight times the size of the smaller figure. I assumed that one was me. The smaller figure had a smiling face reaching ear to ear. “Are you happy in this?”

River nodded in my hold. “Just like me.”

My heart constricted knowing my son was happy. I had sacrificed a lot for him and his well-being, and to know it was worthwhile meant everything to me. It was his drawing of me that had me second-guessing. I wasn’t smiling in his little drawing, but instead frowning.

“Why am I sad?”

He looked up at me, his green eyes wide and innocent, as though he were genuinely surprised. “Because you are?”

“I'm not, not at all,” I answered quickly—far too quickly.

Wasn’t I happy? And why was River the only one to notice that maybe I wasn’t?

“Oh.” He looked back at the paper, his crayon still held tightly. “I’ll draw a new one.”

He scrambled off my lap quickly, pulling a new piece of paper onto the ground, and settled in, restarting his drawing without a care in the world. All while I was spiraling. I didn’t want River to think I was sad. I wasn’t—not with him.

Overwhelmed? Sure. But who wasn’t?

I stood, leaving River and wandering toward my brother’s office. River was still in view as I leaned against the doorway to see Oliver on the phone, hanging up just as he saw me.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, clearly distracted and crossing something off a list in front of him with a heavy scratching of his pen.

I shot a glance at River, who was still in his own world as he drew more stick figures. Hopefully these ones wouldn’t make me question my reality. “Do you think I’m happy?”

“Uhh…” Oliver began, scanning me from head to toe. “Are you not?”

“I thought I was,” I mumbled, fully entering his office and collapsing into a chair across from him. “River doesn’t seem to think so.”

Oliver weighed my words for a moment as he contemplated. “I’ve always thought my kids and wife could see me better than I saw myself.”

“So you think he’s right and I’m not happy?” I asked, surprised. I was the fun-loving younger brother; of course I was happy.

“Happy, yes. Fulfilled? No.”