“Every time it goes wrong it feels like it’s partially my fault for not protecting her. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t just stand by and let it happen again. I had to at least try to save her from making another bad choice. I want her to be happy. Safe and happy.”

“You think Malcolm would do something to hurt her?”

“Not on purpose.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. He’s . . . They’re, um—I think they’re further along than either of us realized. Standing in their way might not be the way to go.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.”

“It’s not?”

Fox shakes his head. “All we’re doing is spending time together like they asked us to. I don’t know about you, but I’m having a wonderful time. Minus the flying.”

“Really?” Joy tries to keep her smile to a tolerable cheese level. “With me?”

“You’ve seen my RoT account. You think I take pictures with just anyone?”

Joy snort-laughs. “In that case, I have no choice but to cherish them forever.”

Seventeen

Lord Jesus, Joy is desperately in need of a shower.

And once she’s done, for her afternoon ensemble . . . she’s over it. She picks out a multicolored pastel tie-dye hoodie and matching short set. The fuzzy material feels heavenly soft on her skin and perfect for a low-key, cozy evening. The agenda lists game night and campfire dinner—probably hot dogs and s’mores. Quite the contrast from lunch, but that’s Malcolm too. He’ll never be too good to pass up beer, pizza, and hot dogs.

The game room is located just past the living room. It feels dark and cozy, like a dive bar, with brick red walls, a pool table, a dartboard, a large TV mounted on the wall, and a fireplace. The left wall is lined with standing tables and stools, and the back wall hosts the actual bar and shelves fully stocked with boxes and bottles of all kinds of alcohol. Malcolm likes to be prepared, but that’s an excessive amount of booze. There’s no way four people could drink all of that in a weekend. Not if they want to keep their livers.

There’s also a sliding glass door leading to the backyard. The fire pit has already been started, crackling fiercely in the dying afternoon light. Summer is out there with Fox, each holding a beer. Malcolm pops up from behind the bar and smiles when he sees her.

“Hey, hey,” she says, strutting to the music playing from the speakers mounted in the corners near the ceiling.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

Joy makes a show of twirling the rest of the way to him and leans on the bar. “Read my mind. What am I in the mood for?”

He closes one eye, turning his head to the side. “Rum?”