Credence

Apparently. Sounds like this is news to him, too.

I don’t need anyone’s care.

He continues, “You’ll be eighteen in a couple months, though. I’m not going to force you to do anything, so don’t worry.”

Okay. I hesitate for a moment, not sure if I feel relieved or not. I didn’t have time to process the reminder th

at I wasn’t a legal adult, and what that meant now that my parents were gone, before he assured me that it wouldn’t mean anything. My life won’t change.

Fine.

“I’m sure, growing up in that life,” he says, “you’re a hell of a lot more world-wise than we are and can take pretty good care of yourself by now anyway.”

“We?” I murmur.

“My sons and I,” he says. “Noah and Kaleb. They’re not much older than you, actually. Maybe a few years.”

So, I have cousins. Or… step-cousins.

Whatever. It’s basically nothing. I play with the light blue thread on my sleep shorts.

“I just wanted to reach out to tell you that,” he finally says. “If you want to emancipate yourself, you’ll get no argument from me. I have no interest in making anything harder for you by uprooting you from your life.”

I stare at the thread, pinching it between my nails as I pull it tight. Okay, then.

“Well… thank you for calling.”

And I start to pull the phone away from my ear, but then I hear his voice again. “Do you want to come here?”

I bring the phone back to my ear.

“I didn’t mean to sound like you weren’t welcome,” he says. “You are. I just thought…”

He trails off, and I listen.

He chuckles. “It’s just that we live a pretty secluded life here, Tiernan,” he explains. “It’s not much fun for a young woman, especially one who has no idea who the hell I am, you know?” His tone turns solemn. “Your dad and I, we just…we never saw eye to eye.”

I sit there, saying nothing. I know it would be polite to talk to him. Or maybe he expects me to ask questions. Like what happened between him and my father? Did he know my mother?

But I don’t want to talk. I don’t care.

“Did he tell you we lived in Colorado?” Jake asks softly. “Close to Telluride but up in the mountains.”

I draw in a breath and release it, winding the thread around my finger.

“It’s not a far ride to town in nice weather, but we get snowed in for months at a time during the winter,” he goes on. “Very different from your life.”

I raise my eyes, letting them slowly drift around the barren room I’ve barely ever slept in. Shelves filled with books I never finished reading. A desk piled with pretty journals I liked buying but hardly wrote in. I thought about decorating in here during breaks at home, but as with everything else, the wallpaper was never purchased, because I could never decide. I have no imagination.

Yeah, my life…

The weight of my parents’ door looms ahead of me, down the hall.

Snowed in, he said. For months at a time.

“No cable. No noise. No WiFi sometimes,” he says. “Just the sounds of the wind and the falls and the thunder.

My heart aches a little, and I don’t know if it’s his words or his voice. Just the sounds of the wind and the falls and the thunder.