It’s all right. Just breathe through it. You deserve all this. Don’t you?

When the tingling passed, he dipped a washcloth in the water and blotted the wound. Small pieces of dry blood came free and floated in the water. The color almost black. Like bits of soot. He bent and studied the deep ravine of broken skin, the rib bones peeking out from under the stitches.

Not good.

A new thought came to him: There are stitches.

Neat, even sutures.

Five of them.

So. She’d sewn him up.

He felt a rush of heat to his face. He’d been naked. He’d probably stunk to high heaven. What had she thought of him?

He washed all over and scrubbed his hair and rinsed. When he stood to climb out of the tub, the water was pink and swirled with blood, and a faint pink fluid still trickled from the damage at his side. He got a towel from above the toilet and patted down with one hand while holding on to the sink counter. His clothes stunk, so he wrapped the towel around his waist and held a clean washcloth to his side. For a moment he stood there. He couldn’t seem to catch a deep breath. He filled the plastic cup with water and drank again.

A thought nagged at him.

Why is she helping you? Why?

No answer came to him.

He walked out of the bathroom, holding the washcloth to his wound. Favoring his sore ribs. He took a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the duffel. He pulled the shirt over his head with one hand while the other kept the washcloth in place. Then he sat on the bed and watched the door.

The room darkened.

Silence.

It’s been awhile. How long?

Somewhere a toilet flushed. A faucet turned on. Jack rose and looked through the window. Snow drifting down in the vapor light. No cars. Nothing.

They went to get food. That’s all. They’ll be back soon.

The washcloth was turning pink.

A queasy ache reached up through his stomach. Like when swimming and you go to put your feet down, but the water is deeper than you thought and you can’t touch bottom. He sat on the bed. He thought he should lie down, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched the door. He tried to breathe through his nose. Slow the breathing. They’ll come back.

Ava will bring him back.

Unless she doesn’t.

Then what?

Minutes wore down and dropped away. He watched the door. The odd sensation of time coming apart. A slow unravel.

XXIV

I took Matty to Big J’s for a burger. And to get him out of the motel room. Let Jack sleep. That’s what I hoped he would do—rest.

Here is what happened.