The Inmate (70)

“Good morning!” he says cheerfully.

“Morning.” I yawn loudly. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

“I slept great.” When he turns to look at me, the dark circles under his eyes are almost gone. I feel stupid for thinking he was wandering around town in my Toyota in the middle of the night—he was clearly getting the night of sleep I wish I had. “That bed is so comfortable.”

It’s really not. But I know how awful the mattresses are at the prison.

“I’m used to waking up early,” he explains. “So I made some breakfast if that’s okay. I also brewed coffee if you want some.”

I pour a cup of coffee from the machine. Usually, I put in cream and sugar, but this time I drink it black. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

“Josh loves pancakes. Especially if you throw in a few chocolate chips.”

“Will do.”

I glance over at the pantry. “I thought we were out of pancake mix.”

“I made them from scratch, actually.”

“Really?” I didn’t even entirely know you could do that. “I’m impressed.”

“My mom and I used to make pancakes every Sunday morning,” he says. “I’m making a ton of them if you want to wake Josh up and let him know.”

He says that last part somewhat shyly. He wants more time with Josh. I get it, but he can’t force this.

“After breakfast,” he says, “I’ll go out and shovel the driveway, okay?”

“That would be great.” The snow stopped somewhere during the early hours of the morning, leaving a thick blanket all over the driveway and the street outside the house. I’ve been shoveling it myself—one of the many responsibilities that fall squarely on me as the only adult in the household. It’s nice for Shane to step it up.

“And after,” he adds, “I thought we could drive out to the farmhouse. See how bad it looks and maybe clean up a little.”

I had a mouthful of coffee in my mouth, and I almost spit it out. “Drive out to the farmhouse? Today?”

He flips a pancake, which is now golden brown. “Why not? It’s going to take a while to get it ready for me to move in there. And it’s Saturday. May as well get started.”

“Yes, but…” A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. It’s probably really dirty and maybe even dangerous. It’s been sitting empty for a long time.”

He purses his lips. “Right, and that’s why I need to check it out. It’s not going to get any cleaner just sitting there.”

My hands are trembling. I place the cup of coffee down on the kitchen table before I drop it. “I just don’t feel comfortable driving out there. After everything that happened, you know?”

He looks at me in surprise. “Really? It was eleven years ago.”

We did, in fact, just pass the eleven-year anniversary of that horrible night. “Yes, really.”

He lays down the spatula he has been using to flip the pancakes. “Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do then. I don’t have a driver’s license, so how am I supposed to get out there?”

“I…”

He frowns. “Could you at least give me a ride? You don’t have to stay or go inside. Just drop me off.”

I hesitate.

“Please, Brooke?”

I feel a stab of guilt. The poor guy doesn’t even have a driver’s license, much less a vehicle. All he wants to do is go back to his childhood home so he can get it back in inhabitable conditions.

“Fine,” I say.

But even as the words are coming out of my mouth, I know I will live to regret them.





Chapter 49


Shane scores big points with his pancakes. Josh eats about eight of them, and with a full mouth, declares them to be “the best pancakes ever.” Shane could not possibly look happier when he says that.

“Can I grab some cleaning supplies to take out to the farmhouse?” he asks as he’s clearing away the food from the table.

“Sure…” I don’t want to tell him that I had been hoping he might change his mind.

“Thanks so much for doing this, Brooke.”

He rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. I squirm, since Josh is still at the table. Yes, we slept together last night, but doesn’t he understand that we have to be careful what information gets fed to our ten-year-old son?

Sure enough, Josh’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Shane’s hand lingering on my shoulder. But he doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Shane says. “When can we get going?”

“Going where?” Josh pipes up.

Shane slides back into one of the seats at the kitchen table. “Your mom and I are going to this really cool farmhouse at the other end of town. I used to live there a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Josh says. “Cool.”

“Do you want to come?” Shane asks.

I suck in a breath. I had been thinking Josh would stay behind while I drove Shane out to the farmhouse. But to my surprise, Josh bobs his head enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

“Oh, honey,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to come with us. It’s going to be really boring. We’re not even going to go inside.”