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Another name comes a little slower. “Blair.”

“Yes. Also Shannon and Janet. They’re nice. You’ll like them.” Why did I say that? I’ve got no idea what he likes other than strawberry jam.

He nods. I make it halfway toward the front door before I remember what he told me last night: he doesn’t know whether he wants to be here. The answer feels less alarming in daylight, but it still matters.

I turn back. “You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

Kell looks toward the front door. “Want.”

“All right.”

Shannon is standing on the porch with an overstuffed duffel in one hand. Janet is behind her carrying a tote large enough to qualify as emergency preparedness. Rachel stands beside Blair, who takes one step through the doorway and stops.

Her attention goes directly past me to Kell. For perhaps the first time since I’ve known Blair, she has absolutely nothing to say. She just stands there looking at him a second too long.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” I ask. “After last night?”

Blair looks at Kell, then back at me.

“I leave you alone for one night.”

“You knew what I was doing.”

“Considering it and actually having it work are very different things.”

Behind me, Kell looks between us. “Funny?”

I laugh. “A little.”

Blair points at me. “Thank you.”

Shannon shoulders past her. “Can we come in before Blair starts billing by the hour?”

The quiet condo fills all at once. Voices. Bags. Shoes by the door. Janet apologizing because her tote nearly clips the wall. Shannon informing her that she brought less luggage for her honeymoon.

Kell doesn’t retreat from any of it. That surprises me more than I expect.

I remember Locke’s first days, when everyone moderated their voices and movements without even discussing it. He watched before acting, hung back before joining, and seemed to need time for every new person.

Kell stands in the middle of my living room wearing Dave’s drawstring pants and nothing else, examining four strangers with open interest. Rachel is the one who looks most startled.

“Kell.”

He turns immediately. “Rachel.”

Her surprise deepens. “You know me?”

“Name.”

She looks at me, so I explain before we turn this into an interrogation. “He heard pieces before he woke. We don’t know how much or how far back.”

Rachel takes that in faster than anyone else could. “Okay.” Kell’s attention shifts toward the doorway, as though someone else might still be coming.

“Locke?”“He couldn’t come this morning,” Rachel tells him. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Kell looks toward the doorway again, then back at her. “Good.”

Rachel’s expression softens. “I thought you’d want to meet him.”