Her brow pinched, dread and confusion. “Sick? I’m not sick, Evan. You just . . . you need to protect him.”
She kept looking over her shoulder. Terror ridging her spine. Making her tremble and quake.
“But your brother—”
She yelped when I said that, and she jerked back, holding her arms over her chest as she backed away. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll try to stop it. I will. I promise. Just . . . take care of him. Please.”
“Ashley.” I started for her, and I saw her mouth form a screech when I grabbed her again, like she was getting burned from my touch.
Misery.
She yanked her arm to try to break from my hold. “You have to let me go.”
A man who was walking the street shouldered between us.
“Hey, asshole. You bothering her? She said to let her go.”
My surprise at him cutting between us gave her enough time to dart across the street, the guy blocking my way as she jumped into a car waiting at the curb. Then she was gone.
Dread curled and shivered and rushed.
Fear a whirlwind that gusted and blew.
I looked back up at the street where Frankie was holding Everett, bouncing him, a protective hand on the back of his head.
There was a moment in my life when I’d thought I had no purpose.
When I’d believed I was more of a hindrance than a remedy.
No more.
Because standing there, I saw my life staring back at me.
And I was going to do whatever it took to protect it.
Twenty-Five
Evan
I followed Frankie up the steps to my parents’ porch. She still was refusing to let Everett go, cradling him as he slept against her chest, his thumb in his mouth.
We’d been down at the station telling Seth everything we knew, which was a whole lot of nothing except for the fact that I believed Ashley was in some kind of danger.
And she was here.
In Gingham Lakes.
Fact she would follow us here was pretty huge.
Seth had taken a description of both her and her brother. They were searching for them both.
While I watched.
Vigilant.
Distrustful.
Unable to shake this feeling that things were way worse than I’d wanted to admit.
I moved around them and opened the door to the lapping darkness that flooded out.
Silence palpable in the oppressive air.
We stepped through the door, and my attention moved to the end of the stairs where my dad was waiting.
WHAT HAPPENED?
Could feel his anxiety.
The angst riding through the atmosphere.
My head shook. WE DON’T KNOW MUCH ELSE EXCEPT HIS MOTHER IS HERE.
He nodded. He’d already known that minor detail since I’d filled him in as best as I could via text. His attention slanted to Frankie who cuddled my son, slowly swaying him in the comfort of her arms.
Something passed through Dad’s eyes, something that 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.