Perfect, I grumbled to myself. Just perfect.

Ian was coming to join me for lunch, a big smile glued into place on his face. Trying to cheer me up… again.

I think you’re overdoing the sarcasm lately, Melanie told me.

I’ll keep that in mind.

I hadn’t heard from her much in the past week. Neither of us was good company right now. It was better if we avoided social interaction, even with each other.

“Hey, Wanda,” Ian greeted me, hopping up onto the counter beside me. He had a bowl of tomato soup in one hand, still steaming. Mine was beside me, cooled and half full. I was toying with a piece of roll, ripping it into tiny pieces.

I didn’t answer him.

“Oh, come on.” He put his hand on my knee. Mel’s angry reaction was lethargic. She was too used to this kind of thing to really work up a good fit anymore. “They’ll be back today. Before sunset, without a doubt.”

“You said that three days ago, and two days ago, and again yesterday,” I reminded him.

“I have a good feeling about today. Don’t sulk—it’s so human,” he teased.

“I’m not sulking.” I wasn’t. I was so worried I could barely think straight. It didn’t leave me energy to do anything else.

“This isn’t the first raid Jamie’s gone on.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” Again with the sarcasm. Melanie was right—I really was overusing it.

“He’s got Jared and Geoffrey and Trudy with him. And Kyle’s here.” Ian laughed. “So there’s no way they’ll get into any trouble.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

He turned his attention to his food and let me stew. Ian was nice that way—always trying to give me what I wanted, even when what I wanted was unclear to either of us. His insistent attempts to distract me from the present anxiety excepted, of course. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted to worry; it was the only thing I could do.

It had been a month since I’d moved back into Jamie and Jared’s room. For three weeks of that time, the four of us had lived together. Jared slept on a mattress wedged above the head of the bed where Jamie and I slept.

I’d gotten used to it—the sleeping part, at least; I was having a hard time sleeping now in the empty room. I missed the sound of two other bodies breathing.

I hadn’t gotten used to waking up every morning with Jared there. It still took me a second too long to return his morning greeting. He was not at ease, either, but he was always polite. We were both very polite.

It was almost scripted at this point.

“Good morning, Wanda, how did you sleep?”

“Fine, thank you, and you?”