I don’t console him as I normally would because I’m already holding enough fear for both of us. “I’m sure there was nothing to be scared of,” I say.

“I…I just don’t like it when you’re away.”

“I’m here now, and we need to get going.”

Winter jacket zipped up over pajamas. Boots pulled over bare feet. Max thinks we’re going back to Rum Hill Road, and I say nothing to him yet. A fresh outfit waits for him in the Suburban.

I tell him to go out and get into the car, that I’ll be there in just a moment. He doesn’t argue.

At the front doorway of Alec’s house, I hear cartoons from the other room, knowing Micah must be plopped in front of a screen, zoned out, happy and safe.

I have one foot inside the house and one foot out, and if that’s not some kind of metaphor for my life, then I don’t know what is. Alec stands a few feet inside the foyer, smiling, though his eyes betray concern. He asks me if his promise held. That things would turn out okay for me.

I tell him I don’t yet know the answer to that, but I hope so.

He asks if I want to talk about anything.

Yes, I tell him. But I can’t. Not right now.

I step back in and kiss him, lightly, a brush of the lips, for if I pressed any harder, I might not ever leave. I thank him for letting Max stay here.

No worries, he says.

I almost laugh. Every molecule of my being is some kind of worry. I struggle to remind myself that just before coming here, I was convinced everything would be okay.

I stare at Alec a moment longer, reach out, and grab his hand. He grabs me back.

I take a deep breath, and when I let it out, I tell Alec I’m leaving and never coming back.

If this surprises him, I don’t see it.

I ask him if he’d ever think about getting into a car and driving west. The Midwest, specifically. Maybe to visit me, or if he could ever figure out some kind of custody plan, maybe to move there with Micah. I say I know it’s a selfish thing to ask, but all I’m looking for is an answer, not a promise. I just want to know if I’m allowed to hold on to that little bit of hope, something to cling to during the upcoming time of struggle.

He answers with just two words, and ones that don’t form an empty promise.

Anything’s possible.

I soak in his response for a few seconds, letting it warm me.

Then I say goodbye and leave, because I simply have to.

I don’t want to leave Alec, but god knows I’m ready to leave this town.

Just one more stop first.

Sixty-Three

9:31 a.m.

Colin slept in, a luxury he rarely allowed himself, though there was no pleasure in it today. Extra sleep didn’t much help when it was riddled with nightmares. Or, worse, fleeting bursts of hope that everything was okay, only to have reality kick him in the groin and tell him in no uncertain terms that his world was, in fact, completely fucked.