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There I was, bent over the open hood of a car, Rico scowling above me as I held a hammer.
There I was with Tanner, wearing a work shirt similar to his, ROBBIE stitched into the patch on the chest.
There I was alone, sitting at the counter that stood right behind me now, my head tilted to the side as I held a phone against my cheek with my shoulder, typing on the computer.
There I was, my head pressed against Ox’s forehead, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, fingernails a little dirty.
There I was standing in front of the shop, surrounded by all of them, the name GORDO’S on a sign above us. All of our arms were crossed, and somehow I just knew we were supposed to be unsmiling, but my lips were quirked, and Tanner and Rico looked like they were struggling not to laugh. Chris was winking at the camera. Gordo was scowling. Ox was intimidating.
But we were together.
All of us.
I fit with them. Somehow, in these photos, in these frozen memories I couldn’t remember, I fit.
I belonged with them.
To them.
This Robbie, whoever he was, had a home.
There was a corkboard next to the photos on the wall. Above it was a framed certification of some kind. And on the board were notices for a school play, a garage sale from six months ago, a request for a specific part someone was looking for, and—
And me.
A flyer with my picture on it.
Stark black words across the top.
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
ROBBIE FONTAINE
MISSING SINCE 2/17/19
“It was a Sunday,” a voice said from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.
Kelly stood in the open door at the front of the shop, smiling tightly. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d just run and wasn’t used to the exertion. A sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and he reached up to wipe it away.
Whatever he saw on my face caused his heartbeat to trip all over itself, and the blue came back, sharp and all-consuming. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
I didn’t know what to say.
He let the door close behind him.
Whatever else he was feeling through all that grief, he wasn’t scared. There was no fear in his movements, though he kept his distance, staying near the door.
Outside and across the street near the diner, I could see Carter watching us, talking into a phone. I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Everything felt too loud. It didn’t matter. I no longer had the strength to run.
Add in the fact that the timber wolf was sitting on its hindquarters next to him right out in the open, and I didn’t know what was real.
“It was a Sunday,” Kelly said again, voice quiet. “We have this… thing. On Sundays. No matter what’s going on, no matter what we’re doing, we come together as pack. We make a lot of food, but it’s not really about that. It’s about being together. As a family.” He shrugged awkwardly. “We’ve always done it. Goes back a long time. Before me and Carter and Joe.”
I found my voice, rough though it was. “Tradition.”
The look of hope on his face was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Do you remember—”
