looked too close to grief, and I was wondering if he was more terrified over the idea that Ashley might take Everett away from us or if he might be a carrier of this sickness.
He turned back to me. AND WHAT DID SETH SAY?
THEY’RE LOOKING FOR ASHLEY AND HER BROTHER. GOAL IS TO BRING THEM IN FOR QUESTIONING. NEITHER ARE WANTED FOR ANYTHING, BUT HE SAID HE’LL DO HIS BEST TO FIND OUT IF EITHER OF THEM ARE INVOLVED IN THE MESSAGES. FIGURE OUT IF SHE NEEDS HELP AND WHAT WE CAN DO. TRY TO FIND OUT WHAT HER INTENTIONS ARE.
If this was a severe depressive episode or something entirely different.
And fuck, I wanted to help her, but not at the cost of my son.
Not at the cost of losing him to her.
My stomach turned with the possibilities, with the unknowns, and my thoughts drifted back to that guy on the sidewalk in front of A Drop of Hope who’d called me a freak for no reason at all. The letter on my car when I’d come back out.
I tried to focus. To dig through my mind to find if he was familiar in any way. To pinpoint if he might have a reason for this insanity.
Problem was, I was coming up dry.
Unable to sort through the mess.
Unable to make the frayed ends fit.
Dad nodded. OKAY. IF THERE’S ANYTHING WE CAN DO, LET US KNOW.
THANK YOU, I told him, so honestly, so sincerely. Wishing there was a way I could express to him how much I appreciated all he’d done. All the way back to when I was a child to the present. To make amends for letting him down.
But I realized the only thing I could do was never repeat it.
Prove to him what it meant rather than trying to find the words to make it true.
FRANKIE IS STAYING, I added.
I was pretty sure the sound he made was an affectionate scoff, and he gave a slight shake of his head. FIGURED THAT. GUESS IT’S BETTER THAN HER SNEAKING IN THE WINDOW THE WAY SHE USED TO DO.
Affection filled his expression when he looked at her, and Frankie was trying to subdue a guilty laugh, the tiniest bit of lightness breaking into the heaviness. “We were just friends.”
“Liars. Both of you.” Dad pointed between us, grinning soft.
Busted.
Like they didn’t always know.
Felt the movement from above, and I glanced up to find Mom coming down the darkened staircase, wearing a nightgown and her hair twisted up on her head. “Oh, you are here. I thought I heard something.” Worry crested her features. “Are you all okay? I hate that this is happening. I just . . . want some peace for y’all. For this baby.”
She hit the landing and moved directly for Frankie, her arms outstretched. “May I?”
“Of course.” Frankie handed him off to her, though she clearly didn’t want to let him go.
Thought maybe she would stand right in that spot and hold him forever.
Mom pressed a bunch of kisses to Everett’s temple, bouncing him a little when he stirred from sleep. “Did you get anything to eat?” she asked us.
“No, not yet,” I told her.
“There are some leftovers in the fridge. Why don’t you two go heat yourself up a plate, and I’ll take this little guy upstairs. He can hang out with me for a while . . . or spend the night in Grammy’s room, if that works best.”
She angled her head between Frankie and me like she was offering us some privacy. A reprieve.
I couldn’t be more grateful, and still, there was a huge part of me that didn’t want to let him out of my sight.
“That’d be nice, thank you. I’ll probably pop in and get him before we go to sleep.”
“Well, leave him as long as you like. Believe me . . . getting Grammy time is no problem at all.”
I sent her a soft smile, and Dad wrapped his arm around her waist.
Two of them were the picture of devotion.
Dad started to lead them up the staircase, but he hesitated. “I’m glad you two are finally figuring this out. Last few years have been rough on all of us . . . think the thing we need to remember is to be honest with each other. Open. Talk about our pasts and our futures.”
I nodded, and he did, too, before they turned to climb the stairs.
I moved for Frankie. “Are you hungry?”
She ran her hands up her arms. “I should probably eat.”