I shouldn’t have to explain myself to him.
But again, he was still a child.
“This is a wildlife rehab facility,” I said. “Where wildlife is prevalent. We can’t just be letting anybody in here for liability reasons.”
“Oh,” he said. “Are you really okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Now, I’d like you to leave.”
He walked to his truck, which was much fancier than I would’ve expected.
But also…he was fifteen.
How was he driving?
I waited until he’d driven off before snatching my purse off the passenger seat and marching up to the house.
I input the code, disarmed the alarm, then locked it behind me just in case.
I’d just pulled my phone out to call Odin when the crunching of gravel sounded.
Angry that the ass had come back, I went to the door ready to raise hell when I stopped short.
“Black,” I said when I opened the door wide. “This is the second time you’ve shown up unannounced.”
“Odin told me to come here.” He paused. “Was that Eustace that I just saw leaving?”
I nodded once.
“He’s fifteen and has no license.” He sighed. “That’ll be another thing I talk to his father about when I finally see him.”
I gestured for him to come inside and said, “You didn’t see him earlier?”
He followed me inside to the kitchen.
I held up a beer bottle to him and he nodded. “Thanks.”
I grabbed two out of the fridge and took a seat. “Tell me.”
Twenty-Seven
The inventor of the throat lozenge has died. There will be no coffin at his funeral.
—Text from Constance to Odin
Odin
“What about this?”
I glanced at the bottle she was holding up.
It was colorful and had a fancy name.
“Does your mom like wine?”
“She likes something called beer.”
I laughed. “That’s not wine. Maybe we should stop by the liquor store.”
