He had his knees drawn up, his forehead resting on them, and his hood pulled over his head. If he heard them coming, he gave no sign.
Atlas moved forward cautiously, his tail giving a small wag of recognition. The boy’s shoulders were hunched, his whole body curled in on itself like he was trying to disappear.
Greta approached, telegraphing her movements, and stopped a few feet away. Atlas wiggled at her side, staring up, waiting for his treat for a job well done. She reached into her pack and gave him his antler reward. Her boy made a happywoo-woo-woosound, his whole body wiggling, before settling down in a pile of leaves beside Logan with his bone between his front paws.
Logan didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her or the dog. His shoulders were shaking—not from cold, she could tell. The kind of shaking that came from trying very hard not to cry.
Greta lowered herself onto the log beside him, leaving enough space between them that he wouldn’t feel crowded. Atlas stayed at his feet, chewing contentedly on his antler.
“I’m going to stay here for a minute,” she said, as if Logan had asked, then pulled her radio from her belt. “Bear?”
“Here.” His voice came back instantly, tight with strain, and Logan flinched at the sound of it.
“We found him. He’s okay.” She paused. “Give us a few minutes.”
Silence on the other end, then he muttered, “Copy.”
She set the radio in her lap and looked up at the darkening sky. The temperature was dropping fast now that the sun had disappeared behind the ridge. Logan’s thin, long-sleeved shirt wouldn’t be enough.
“I used to come out here when I was your age,” she said. “When things got too loud at home.”
Logan shifted slightly. He didn’t look up, but he was listening.
“My dad wasn’t a great dad,” she continued. “He was never meant to be a father, not to mention a twin dad. Especially aftermy mom left.” She watched her breath form clouds in the cold air. “He’d get this look in his eyes sometimes, like he was trying to figure out which of us was worth keeping.”
Atlas whined softly and nudged her hand with his wet nose. She scratched behind his ears.
“My sister, Alice, and I used to run away all the time. I liked to come out here into the woods. She preferred parties and hanging out with all the wrong people. One day, she went to one of those parties and never came back.”
She noticed Logan twisting a leather cord around on his wrist. “Did your mom give you that bracelet?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Alice gave me one, too, right before she disappeared. I never take it off.” She pulled a flashlight off her vest and shone it at her wrist, where the bracelet glinted. It had been gold once, but the cheap plating hadn’t worn off a decade ago.
“Two interlocking hearts,” She said, and spun it so he could see them. “Alice had an identical one on when she disappeared.”
He didn’t lift his head.
“We had a fight the day she went missing. I told her she was going to get herself killed if she kept going to those parties. She told me to stop acting like her mother.” She let the flashlight beam drift to the ground between her boots. “I told her she needed to grow up. She told me I needed to shut up.”
The leather cord on Logan’s wrist kept turning.
“That was the last thing she said to me.Shut up.And I’ve spent fifteen years wondering if I could have said something different. If I could have gone with her that night. If I could have—” She stopped. Her throat was thick, and she had to clear it before continuing. “If I could stop whatever happened to her.”
“Logan’s shoulders had stilled. He wasn’t shaking anymore, just sitting very still with his head down. “I fought with my mom.”
Oh, honey,she thought, but said, “About what?”
“The last morning. Before her accident.” Logan’s voice came out muffled against his knees. “She was making breakfast. She always made breakfast, even when there was nothing in the fridge except eggs and bread.”
Greta waited. Atlas shifted at her feet, his antler forgotten as he watched Logan with concerned amber eyes.
“I asked her why she couldn’t just be normal,” Logan continued, the words spilling out now. “Why we had to move every six months. Why we couldn’t have a dog. Why we couldn’t have anything that lasted.” His voice broke. “She was so mad when she went to work. If I hadn’t made her mad, maybe she wouldn’t have been distracted. Maybe she’d have seen the stoplight turn red.”
“Logan,” she said and waited.
And waited.
