“It really is easy to think that I have some control over what happens to you. The more control I imagine myself to have, the safer I feel.”

She’d done some soul-searching and realized that she’d gotten in the bad habit of relying on herself for the majority of Dylan’s welfare and letting God “assist” with the rest. She wanted to trust God with all of it, as she had when she’d first taken over custody of her brother. And yet . . .

All of it? He was a teenager now, capable of making life-threatening mistakes.

“I don’t want to be a controlling person,” she said. “I want to be a person who trusts God.”

Grease shined on Dylan’s fingertips, which still gripped the chicken. “Does this mean you’re going to let me do more stuff?”

“Potentially, yes. We’ll talk about the things you want to do and decide on a case-by-case basis. I’ll do my best to keep an open mind and view you as what you are now: a high school senior.”

“Almost old enough to vote.”

Lord, help us all.

“This is great timing,” he said. “Braxton’s family is going skiing over Christmas break, and he wants me to come along.”

Lord! Help us all! “Mmm.”

“Also, it would be really cool if you could stop warning me about teenage suicide, drinking, drugs, and everything else.”

“Don’t push your luck, Dylan.”

Dylan took another bite. The crispy skin of his chicken leg crackled. “If you stop all the warnings, I’ll watch Return of the Jedi with you after this.”

“You will?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll take you up on that, darling boy of my heart.”

On Tuesday morning, Sebastian came face to face with a ghost from his past.

He was passing the gas station on the way to Ingles to get groceries when he recognized a blue 1974 Chevy C-10 truck at one of the pumps.

Sebastian U-turned. The C-10 was a beast. A tough-guy’s truck. He parked, walked up to the vehicle, and found it empty. Bracing himself, he pushed his hands into his jeans and waited beneath the cold gray sky.

As expected, Luke Dempsey exited the station’s door. When he saw Sebastian, his expression tightened. Luke came to a halt, facing Sebastian across two yards of space and two miles of memories.

A powerful sense of déjà vu jerked Sebastian back in time to the earthquake. It had been dim then, too.

The collapsing corridors in that basement hadn’t stopped Luke from trying to run back in the direction they’d come.

Sebastian had lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

“Let me go!” Luke yelled at him. “I have to get my brother.”

“You’ll be crushed.” Luke was one year older, but Sebastian was equally as tall and strong.

Luke wrenched free. But just as he tried to enter the hallway, concrete filled it, blocking it completely.