Page 14 of Weight of Guilt

“Is this okay?” Nora crouched in front of Christian’s chair. “I just want to check a few things. You can tell me to stop anytime.”

Christian went still but nodded.

Nora pressed two fingers to his wrist first, counting under her breath, her eyes on the clock over the stove. “Your pulse is a little fast but not alarming. Given the day you’ve had, that tracks.” She clicked the penlight on and leaned in close. “Follow my finger for me.”

Christian’s eyes tracked the light, steady enough that Nora’s shoulders eased a fraction.

“Pupils are even. That’s good.” She sat back on her heels. “If someone gave you something and it was still in your system, I’d expect to see it here—pupils blown or pinned, one or the other. I’m not seeing that.”

“So I wasn’t drugged?” He squinted.

“I can’t rule it out completely. Whatever it was could’ve worn off days ago, and I’d have no way to tell now, not without bloodwork.” She held his gaze. “But this at least is telling me you don’t appear drugged right now.”

Christian nodded slowly, some of the tension easing from his body.

“Any dizziness? Headache? Anything hurt that shouldn’t?”

“I have a headache,” Christian admitted. “Since I woke up on the road. It hasn’t really stopped.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“I don’t know. A four? Maybe a five.” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his knee, the same gesture Wren had already learned to watch for.

“That could be a lot of things.” Nora’s frown didn’t clear. “Or something we can’t rule out without imaging.”

She checked his forearm next, fingers light against the old scar. If the scar meant anything to her, she didn’t show it.

Wren looked at him again. The sharp line of his collarbone where his shirt gapped at the neck. His wrist inside Nora’s fingers, too narrow.

“You’re dehydrated.” Nora sat back. “And I don’t think you’ve eaten enough. Not for a while.” She glanced at Wren and Marlowe, then back at him. “Nothing here is screaming emergency. That’s not the same as fine. You need to be seen, and I’m not going to keep pretending that’s optional.”

“Okay.” Christian said the word quietly. “Soon. Not today.”

Nora studied him a moment longer, then lowered the penlight.

Nora had checked everything she could check, but they still didn’t know for sure who was sitting at their table.

Wren wanted him to be Christian so badly it scared her.

Wren watched Christian finish a second sandwich and more potato chips. Nobody talked while he ate, and the quiet went on long enough that she started reaching for something to fill it.

“Your room’s still here,” she said. “We never touched it.”

Christian looked up from the empty plate. “Really? I’d like to see it.”

They all stood. Wren followed Nora and Christian up the stairs, part of her bracing herself, though she didn’t know for what exactly.

At the top, nobody said anything.

Wren opened her mouth to tell him which door and stopped. Nora had halted one step short of the landing, and Marlowe hung back near the wall.

Nobody was going to point.

They wanted to see if he knew.

Wren’s face went hot. It was a cruel thing to do to a boy who’d walked out of the woods that morning, and she was doing it anyway. So were her sisters. None of them had said a word about it.

He walked to the end of the hall and put his hand on the knob.