Ryan locked the barn and hand in hand they made another dash through the rain.

The lights were off inside the house, curtains still open. Ryan figured his father was probably still where he’d left him, in his room, asleep. They tiptoed their way to a dark hall at the back of the house. Ryan reached up and grabbed a rope that was dangling from the ceiling; he gave it a pull and a ladder unfolded.

“After you,” he said.

Amy got a surprise when she climbed to the top. The space, which spanned the entire breadth of the roof, felt less like an attic and more like a self-contained home. Strings of lights hung from the rafters and enormous rugs covered the floor. There was a bed wedged into a corner, a couch and table in another, and various pieces of mismatched furniture—a cupboard, a chest of drawers, and two ­bookcases—stacked against the sloping walls.

Ryan went to the drawers and pulled out some clothes: a blue checked shirt; a pair of gray pants, which he admitted were going to be far too big; some wool socks; and a towel.

“It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid,” he said. “Get changed into these and I’ll be back in five minutes. I’ve got to go check on my father.”

Amy thanked him with a smile. After he climbed back down the ladder, she kicked off her shoes and stripped off her wet clothes, wriggling out of her jeans and pulling her top over her shoulders. She toweled off and threw on his spare clothes, grinning at how stupendously big they were, then moseyed around the room while dabbing her wet hair with the towel, waiting for him to return. Her curiosity led her over to a small writer’s desk, which was covered in a mountainous mess of paper. Crumpled envelopes, stacks of overdue bills, letters, notices of demand—many bearing the logo of the bank, Pacific First & Mutual—spread to every corner of the desk. Amy’s heart sank at the sight of it all. Seeing firsthand the trouble he was in made her feel sad. She wished there was something she could do. She really did feel sorry for him. It wasn’t fair what was happening, that he should be punished like this. He was only in this situation because of his love for his father. He only ever wanted to see him get better. He’d been brave and bold and he’d acted with his heart, and for that he was about to be thrown out of his home. The world, she decided, really was a cruel and unfair place.

“Are you decent?” Ryan called out.

Amy stepped away from the desk and pretended to be looking out the window. “I am.”