Page 31 of Strange Lights

He swallows hard, his face pale, and opens his mouth to talk, but I cut him off.

“I want you to come with us,” I tell him. There, a small truth so that I can hold back the rest. It makes me sick, manipulating his emotions like that, but what else can I do?

He watches me for a long moment, eyebrows drawn together, a faint frown on his face. A tangle of emotions I have no hope of unwinding shoots through me.

“You want me to come with you,” he checks, reaching out his hand and stroking his thumb across my cheek.

“Are you being serious right now? Yes, Calvin, I don’t mind you around⁠—I think that should be obvious.” I gesture to our mismatched clothing, knowing we’re both remembering how we ended up that way.

“Let’s go,” I prod. “We’ll have time to talk later.”

Calvin hooks a finger in the waistband of his boxers that I’m still wearing, then tugs me closer to kiss my forehead tenderly.

Eldi makes a gagging noise from the bunk, and Calvin blushes.

I roll my eyes. “All right, all right, that’s enough. Let’s hit the road. But first”⁠—I look down at the pair of Calvin’s boxers I’m wearing⁠—“I gotta find some pants.”

14

You Can’t Leave the Past in Your Rearview Mirror

We head north, the opposite of the direction we’d originally planned. I want to be as far from Nevada as possible. The more distance I can put between us and Agency 51, the safer we’ll be⁠—I know better than to make a deal with Zara. Calvin parks his Airstream in a long-term lot at the Salt Lake City airport and awkwardly shuttles over most of his belongings to the Winnebago.

“You’re hardly the first stray to move in,” I point out when he apologizes for the fifth time.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. I know the situation is . . . unique.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be the least unique roommate I have,” I say dryly, gesturing to the surrounding chaos.

Eldi is watching her tablet again, dangling upside down and half off the bench seat of the kitchen table. All I can see are her dirt-covered toes leaving smudges on the upholstery. Dave is digging through the box of clothes Calvin has set in my bedroom. Doug is catching and folding every article of clothing Dave carelessly flings out of the box, making soft chastising noises that Dave is studiously ignoring. Manny has crept up from the basement to see what all the activity is about and is pushing every button on Calvin’s espresso machine in evident delight. It takes up most of the counter space, sending periodic steam plumes into the air and spilling coffee grounds into the sink.

“You have a good point,” Calvin says, snatching my cactus out of harm’s way as it’s precariously close to the sink and Manny’s flailing plastic arm.

The only moment I feel the strangeness of it sneak in, causing a small pang of loss, is when Calvin’s shirts find their way into my closet as I push the ratty old Gorillaz T-shirt into the back and line up Calvin’s much newer, less ratty shirts next to the rest. At least the Winnebago is courteous enough to expand the closet space to accommodate.

“My cousin called me,” Calvin tells me as we unpack.

“Your cousin?”

“Archer. His husband spends a lot of time investigating the paranormal. Archer called to ask about the strange rumors. He wanted to know if I knew anything about the connection certain children have with it all.”

That gives me pause. I set down the pants I’m folding and stare at him. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you? I was serious about lying low.”

“He’s got a kid. Wren. She’s adopted. Sweet but a little bit strange. I didn’t think anything about it until recently. After I found out about Eldi . . . well, some things started to make a lot of sense. Wren reminds me of her, of Eldi.”

“How much did you tell him?” My heart is racing. The more people who know about Eldi, the harder it’s going to get to keep her safe. But how many of these kids are out there?

“Enough to warn them. Maybe we should meet up with them. Some allies we could be honest with can’t be a bad thing. We can trust them. And they’re family.”

I snort. Trust them. Because they’re family. What could go wrong? “As if they wouldn’t sell us out to save their own kid.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“It’s what I would do,” I say coldly.

“I don’t believe you,” Calvin says.

I shrug, finish folding the pants, and neatly tuck them away into a drawer.