Jack turned on the television and found an episode of X-Men. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. This is really good.”

Matty sat sipping the juice. Wolverine growled and popped out his claws.

“Wow,” Matty said.

Jack’s stitches need another dressing, so he steps into the bathroom to take a shower. Ava gets out cereal and a fruit snack for Matty and sets it on the nightstand. In case he gets hungry. She pulls her hair into a ponytail and puts on her boots and her coat. What else? On her phone she searches for contact information for the county sheriff’s office. She writes the number down on the little pad of paper by the food. Matty watches her, saying nothing. He’s getting sleepy again. She lays out his pajamas and turns away while he changes into them.

“Don’t look,” he says.

“I won’t.”

“I’ll know if you do.” His earnest voice. “I sense danger. Like Spider-Man.”

“I won’t look.”

In the bathroom, the shower water drums down.

“Okay. You can see.”

“Okay.”

He stands shivering. “I’m kind of cold.”

“Let’s get you some socks.”

She sits him on the bed and helps him pull on socks.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

Outside the window, vague shapes move. Shadows of snow falling. Skewing down in the wind. Almost too dark to see.

She shows him the pad of paper. “This is for you. I want you to call this number if we aren’t back by morning. Okay?”

“But you’ll be back.”

“Yes. But just in case we aren’t.”

“I’m not supposed to call people.”

“That’s true. But this time it’s okay.”

“Who does the number call?”

“Someone who’ll come and help you.”

“A good person?”

“Yes.”

He clamps his hands in his armpits and squints at her. At last he says, “Okay.”

“And you keep the door locked.”

“Okay.”

“You have the Tracfone.”

“Yeah.”

“If anyone comes, you hide under the bed.”

He nods. “I’m not stupid.”

In the bathroom, the shower turns off.

“Let’s get you into bed,” she says.

She pulls back the blanket, and he wiggles between the sheets. His mop of hair almost conceals his eyes. “I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“If you go, you will always come back,” he says. “Is that right?”

“I’m not going anywhere yet.”

“I know. But when you do?”

She tucks his hair behind an ear. She can’t trust her voice.

He is quiet, waiting.

She looks at him, looks deep. “Yes. I will always come back.”

“No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Across the street, Bardem sipped his coffee and watched the motel. It was near one o’clock in the morning, and no cars were on the road. Frost iced the windshield. Starless night. Quiet. When the motel door on the second floor opened, he put the thermos in the console and sat forward.