Today.

Lance is dressed when Robbie comes back.

The look on Robbie’s face is hard for Lance to meet. It’s questioning, uncertain…maybe even afraid. Lance wants to wipe the look away—and he will. But first he has to clear the path between them. That’s more important than ever now that he knows Niall is here, in Trace County. If Lance isn’t careful, his worlds will collide and implode. He has to convince Niall to get rid of the criminal charges—and then, somehow, get rid of Niall, as well—before the fragile thing he has with Robbie crumbles.

“I know you said you could take me to town, but I got a ride,” he says, not quite meeting Robbie’s eye, and then he tugs on the lapel of the heavy corduroy shirt he chose from Johnny’s cast-offs because it looked like the warmest option. “Is it okay if I borrow this stuff? I’ll give it all back as soon as I have my things.”

There’s a long moment of silence, which forces Lance to meet Robbie’s stare. He looks miserable. Lance’s resolve almost falters, but he hangs on by a thread.

“You can take whatever you want to. I already told you, whatever you need is yours.” He grasps his right elbow with his left hand.

Lance blinks and looks at the floor. “I’ll give it all back,” he repeats.

“Who’s—” Robbie clears his throat. “Who’s giving you a ride?”

Lance shrugs. “I still know people around here.” It’s not exactly a lie, he thinks, while at the same time knowing that Robbie wouldn’t appreciate the technicality.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I said I’d meet him out at the road. I don’t want him to get stuck halfway down the driveway.”

“I’ll drive you up there. The snow’s deep.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“Lance—”

Lance forces his feet still against the urge to run. He’s not a child now. “I’ll walk,” he says firmly, still without looking at Robbie, and goes for the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Robbie

Robbie watches Lance go in a daze. He’s still holding the calf’s empty bottle; he’s unzipped his coat, but hasn’t shrugged out of it. His boots are still on. And the door is closing behind Lance, whose departure feels like a strange inversion of an ambush. A sudden abandonment instead of a sudden setting-upon.

He’s just unstuck his feet to follow him, without being precisely sure what he’s going to do—stalk after him up the driveway? Plead to know if he’s coming back?—when his cell rings.

It’s his neighbor, Ed. Robbie answers, if only because Ed’s been so impossible to get on the phone. He’ll make it quick.

“Robert Chase!”

“Hi, Ed, listen, could I call you back...?” Robbie steps toward the door, dropping the bottle on the bench. He can see Lance through the glass, walking fast through the snow, both swallowed by the bulk of Johnny’s coat and yet almost too tall for it; it just reaches his waist. Robbie can see the tail of the corduroy shirt clearly, extending past the fall of the coat.