Never Let You Go(67)

We’re looking at each other, his expression uncertain, as though he’s not sure what I’m really asking. I hold his gaze steady. His lips part. He’s going to say something. Then shuffling footsteps behind us. He looks over my shoulder. Sophie wanders into the kitchen. I take a step back, as though she caught us kissing. She gives me an odd look, then yawns.

“Can we go get Angus now?” she says.

“I’ll call the clinic soon.”

Marcus stands up. “I better get going.”

“I’ll walk you out.” At the door, I say, “Thanks for coming over last night.”

“Sure.” He steps out, then turns. “You tell Greg that if he lets anything happen to you, he’ll have to answer to me.” He’s smiling, but there’s tension around his eyes. Is it worry for me, or something else? I feel awkward, off balance, like the porch is tilting under my feet.

“I will.” I watch him drive away, then close the door.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


SOPHIE

JANUARY 2017

“Your room has a great view,” Greg says. “You’ll see in a minute.”

I nod and try to look pleased, but I don’t like the way he says “your” room, as though I’m going to be staying here for long. He’s showing me around his house and Mom is along for the tour, but I know she’s been over to his place lots. I’m trying not to think about that. I mean, I’m happy she has a boyfriend, but the thought of my mom having sex is just too weird. This is the first time we’ve all spent the night in the same house. I’m really hoping the spare room is far away from his room or I’m going to have to keep earbuds in all night, just in case.

His house is in an older subdivision, two stories, with a robin’s-egg-blue bathroom, orange countertops in the kitchen, and an almond-colored fridge and stove, like it’s all out of some movie from the seventies. It smells like lemon polish and Windex and the carpet has vacuum lines. He must’ve cleaned up before we got here. Above the fireplace there’s a painting of a surfer standing with his board watching the waves, and he has some framed photographs of his family on the mantel. I drift past, glance at their faces. They look happy.

I’ll be sleeping upstairs at the end of the hall. The room is big, with a queen bed and windows that look out over his backyard. I wish Angus was with us—he’d love digging holes in all that snow—but he’s stuck at the clinic for another night. The bedding looks new, a deep purple duvet cover and pillowcases, and smells like fresh laundry detergent. I wonder if he bought it today and washed it already. There’s also a small TV on the dresser.

“I set that up before you came over,” he says. “Thought you might want some privacy.”

I turn to look at him. He’s standing in the doorway, Mom beside him, and I know she wants me to say something nice, but I’m realizing, for the first time, how they don’t really fit together. Mom is kind of preppy, wholesome, like one of those women who go back to school in their forties and becomes a doctor or something. Greg looks like one of those guys who never really grows up. I instantly feel bad for the thought. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

“No problem. I want you to feel at home. If you guys end up staying longer, you can paint the room whatever color you want.”

“We’re going to be living here?” Mom didn’t say anything like that. When we went to visit Angus, she just said we were going to Greg’s until the police find out if Dad was in our neighborhood yesterday afternoon. The vet figured out Angus was drugged with Ambien. Mom freaked when she heard that.

Greg’s face kind of turns red and he looks at Mom. Her face is also flushing. “We don’t know yet what’s going to happen,” she says. “Let’s take one day at a time for now.”

I give her a how-can-you-do-this-to-me look. She smiles brightly and says, “So should we order pizza for dinner? Greg says there’s a really good restaurant nearby.”

“I’m not hungry.” After we saw Angus, Mom and I went to Tim Hortons, then home to pack up. My sandwich is still sitting like a lump in my stomach.

“We’ll order a couple types,” Greg says. “You can decide later.”

I sit down on the bed. “Okay if I hang out in here for a little bit and watch some TV?” I make my eyes big and sad. “I’m just really upset about Angus.”

Mom narrows her eyes at me, making it clear she knows I’m playing her, but I know she won’t say anything in front of Greg. I am upset about Angus and what my dad did to him, but mostly I want to be alone so I can call Jared.

“Sure,” she says. “Come out whenever you’re ready.”

After they’re gone, I close the door behind them, then settle on the bed and turn on the TV. I don’t plan on watching anything, but I want the background noise. I flip to the music channel and it’s playing one of the songs we listened to at Jared’s party last night. I smile at the memory. The party was fun, and Jared was right, his friends were nice. Even the girls—one of them said she loved my hair. Jared was also right about his parents leaving us alone. I only saw them once at the door, then we hung out downstairs for the rest of the time. A few kids had brought bottles of booze and Jared rolled a couple of joints. I wasn’t going to smoke any, but then he blew some in my mouth and it was kind of sexy and fun and I ended up getting high.