Page 8 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue

Samuel didn’t fight it, still in a daze and anyway, he was used to being herded by Bee. After almost a year of it, his body followed along automatically.

“Hailey is sick,” is what he finally said after Rat had already sketched out a whole script.

Arty’s head shot up faster than he’d ever seen it move, his expression frozen. “What?”

Rat only emerged unwillingly, in the process of assigning roles for their first rehearsal. “Sick? Sick with what?”

“A virus. Nathaniel’s taking care of her. It’s why he didn’t come for today’s visit.”

Bee’s brow was creased. “Sick.”

“She might not be better by Saturday.” He stood. “I should just call.”

Rat dragged him back to his chair. “They’ll definitely come Saturday if it’s just a cold.”

“She has a sore throat. And a fever.”

“Kids get that shit all the time. She’ll be better by tomorrow. Listen, you have to make sure they’re both sitting across from you. If we use the poster—”

“Sick,” Arty said again, the tray before him forgotten.

“It’s not a cold. And anyway, this isn’t something to hide. They’ll want to know. There might be preparations to make.”

“What preparations? Listen, this is something to tell in person. Even I know something like that. It’s just two days. You can wait until then.”

But he shook the hand off. Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn’t. But he wanted to call. He wanted it, suddenly, more than anything.

Jenny picked up on the second ring. “Sammy?”

“I’m getting out.”

She showed no surprise. After all, Nathaniel hadn’t been the only one sending threatening letters, and she would have been even more in the loop because of Jethro. “When?”

“Tuesday morning.”

He heard something in her breath. Something like a gasp, and he remembered that even being the most stable force in his life, she was still only twenty-two years old with a brother who had been in prison for almost half of her remembered life. His hand tightened on the receiver. “Are you sitting down? Do you need—is Darren there?”

It wouldn’t be right to say he wanted the boy there, but anything his sister might need was the most important thing just then.

“He’s here.” Already, her voice was stabilizing. “He’s—I have him here. And Father, I’m at the estate. I stopped here to pick up—do you want to talk to him?”

Hardly, but he probably should. “Put him on.”

There were things to settle, all kinds of matters he’d have to face to prepare for a life on the outside, but he had no head for them.

“Tuesday,” Jethro repeated. “I’ll tell your mother.”

Please don’t, he wanted to say. But that wasn’t possible. “Thank you,” he said instead. “For the help.”

Jethro said nothing. Fullers didn’t do gratitude well. “I’ll give the phone back to your sister.”

He didn’t want to bother Nathaniel and risk interrupting Hailey’s care, but he didn’t have much time before lights out. He called Eli instead and caught him just as he was parking in front of the house. “Hey, Puppy. I was just thinking about you.”

That voice, as always, brought out a physical reaction. Almost, he felt a phantom arm, the hand Eli used to keep on his back sometimes as they made their nightly calls. “How’s Hailey?”

“Still breathing, I believe. I’m just getting in now. That’s the treasured Pearson soup, if I’m not mistaken. Nathaniel’s pulling out the big guns. Ah! And the invalid herself. Hailey bear, are you sure you should be lifting something as heavy as a spoon right now? I think a certain handsome father would be only too happy to—wait, no, I’m still—”

The phone changed hands. “Samuel.”