Page 36 of Weight of Guilt

His eyes pass over me and keep moving.

I don’t breathe until they do.

He could be a real threat. I clocked that the first time I saw him cross the yard toward the Loveless house. He definitely complicates things. I don’t like complications, but I’ve survived worse.

The boy climbs into his mother’s car, gear bag still half-open, chattering the whole way.

I let myself imagine, for a moment, the version of this where I simply walk down there—just another parent gathering a child at the end of practice, ordinary and unremarkable and entirely unafraid.

I like that version of myself. Could I fool everyone?

I could, I realize. I’m certain I could.

Chapter

Eighteen

Wren found her sisters—and Bo—in the kitchen when she and Mason got back from practice. The two of them were sitting at the table, neither one talking.

Bo sat beside Nora’s chair chewing something.

Nora glanced down and gaped. “Is that my oven mitt?”

Bo froze.

“Goblin.” She scowled before snatching the oven mitt from him and taking it to the counter.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Wren had to say things like that entirely more often than she’d like.

“Don’t worry about it. We have bigger issues right now.” Nora sighed.

As Mason ran to pet Bo, Bo greeted him with enough enthusiasm to knock Mason onto his backside.

Mason laughed and shoved at his chest. “Dude!”

“Christian’s asleep already.” Nora dropped back into her seat. “He’s clearly exhausted.”

Wren deposited her keys on the counter, reality hitting her again. “That’s good. He needs to sleep.”

“Why’s Mason still here?” Marlowe asked. “I thought this was Cody’s weekend to have him.”

Marlowe had never been a huge fan of Cody. “It turns out they’re short-staffed down at the station, and they asked him to work. I said it was fine.”

“That’s nice of you.” That wasn’t quite sincerity in Marlowe’s words, however.

Marlowe still counted from the beginning. Five years of Wren raising Mason alone, and then Cody deciding he wanted in. He’d been good recently. Marlowe just hadn’t agreed to start the clock over.

“I keep thinking we need to call somebody tonight.” Nora shifted in her seat. “The FBI, or figure out the DNA test, or—something. It feels wrong to just go to bed.”

“It also feels wrong to make a decision like that when none of us can think straight.” Wren pulled a chair out and sat. “I can barely remember what I ate for lunch. I think I skipped dinner. I don’t trust myself to decide anything that matters right now.”

Marlowe wrapped both hands around her mug, her eyes a little brighter. “So we wait? You’re actually listening to my opinion on this?”

“No one is winning in this situation,” Nora said.

“I didn’t say I was winning. It just feels nice to be listened to.”

Wren didn’t want to deal with this right now—not on top of everything else.