12. A Step Back
Chapter 12
A Step Back
Lo
W e’re just carrying the last box out when the SUVs are coming down the driveway.
“Should we be here or, like, go?” Mags asks.
“We greet them.” Mom giggles.
“We’re a lot,” Mags states.
Riley laughs. “This is true, but there’s no sense in hiding it. She’ll have that figured out if she already doesn’t.”
The SUVs rolls to a stop, and the woman who steps out—Greer—smiles like she knows exactly how much chaos she’s holding at bay. It’s the kind of smile people give when they’ve had three hours of sleep, lifted too many boxes, and are still trying to make a good first impression. And damn if it doesn’t work.
When she rounds the front of the vehicle, Riley actually growls. “No, absolutely not are you looking that damn beautiful and focused being that pregnant.” She looks at me. “She has to go.”
“Keep talking to me like that, and I’ll never leave,” Greer shoots back, smooth as hell.
And that’s when I really look at her.
She’s stunning, sure, but not in a glossy, curated way. Dominican, I think—warm bronze skin, dark eyes that miss nothing , and the kind of sharp cheekbones that make her look like she could command a battalion or star in a tactical training video. Her black cargo pants are worn in but clean, paired with a fitted, moisture-wick tee that hugs her belly and a zip-up that’s half military, half comfy. A watch sits heavy on her wrist. Not decorative—functional. I’m guessing it does more than tell time.
Her dark curls are braided tight and pulled into a bun that’s perfection. She moves like someone who’s trained not to be caught off guard, even that pregnant.
There’s something in her posture that feels like a challenge. Controlled tension. Not defensive, just … ready. Like she’s had to live in states of readiness too long to completely let it go. I wonder how long she’s been out.
Then the kids tumble out.
Evie hits the gravel with glitter boots and a stuffed unicorn backpack that’s lost at least one eye. Her hoodie nearly swallows her whole, but she’s bright-eyed and humming like nothing in the world has ever scared her.
And then there’s Micah. Eighteen. Too tall. Broad shoulders and a resting glare. He’s got Greer’s eyes—sharp and shielded—but carries himself like he doesn’t want to be here. His skin’s a rich copper-brown, his curls cropped close, and he looks like someone who’s been forced to grow up too fast and resents every damn second of it.
Beside me, Mags inhales like she’s just spotted Sydney carrying cupcakes to us.
Yup. Micah’s going to be a problem.
“Let’s show you around.”
“Shouldn’t take long,” Micah whispers under his breath. “It’s a freaking barn. Not even a barn—part of one.”
“Suck it up, and shut it down,” Greer, who clearly didn’t miss it, retorts.
He opens the hatch and grabs a box.
“Everyone except the two already carrying something in their belly, grab something and let’s get inside where it’s warm,” Mom says.
I take the crate from Greer labeled “ KITCHEN OR MAYBE BATHROOM??”
“I got this. I’m Lo. This is my mom, Jade,” I add, motioning beside me. “Mags, my cousin; Maggie, our grandma; and Riley?—”
“The one who will forever compare herself to you and feel like a failure,” Riley cuts me off.
“First trimester?” Greer asks, and Riley nods. “You’re doing good. I was in the field tossing my cookies before I even knew. It gets better.”
Riley sighs. “Your lips to God’s ears.”
Maggie steps forward with a smile that’s both welcoming and lightly interrogative. “You’re the tech girl, huh?”
Greer nods. “Been called worse.”
Mags, my bad-ass cousin, looks almost panicked. “No, that’s not what I?—”
“This thing’s not getting any lighter,” Micah says from behind us.
“Mic, manners,” Greer warns.
“We have brooding brothers—we get it,” I whisper and look back at Mags, now pissed at herself.
“That’s gonna be a problem,” Riley whispers.
“She’ll be all right.”
“You all right?” she whispers.
“What?” I ask.
She arches a brow as she passes me. “Just asking.”
Dammit!
We get through the usual small talk as we enter—where she’s from originally down state but moved to Rochester, what she does now. She avoids the before, she was settled into software development, mostly remote, but they called her in, and how far along she is twenty-six weeks, due in August. She says all of it like she’s reciting stats from a file.
“Evie baby, shoes off if you’re going inside!” Greer calls out as the girl bolts toward the stairs. The unicorn bounces once off the rail and lands in a planter.
“I’ve got her,” Mags says, already in motion, scooping up the unicorn and grinning at Evie.
“I can show you around,” I offer, tilting my head toward the door. “I mean, you’re not getting a spa or a smart fridge, but the water pressure’s decent, and the loft gets good light.”
Greer smiles again, softer this time. “Lead the way.”
Riley takes over and points out the important stuff—washer and dryer, the slightly sticky back door that requires a hip-check, the skylight that leaks if it starts raining and to let her know.
Greer nods, listening, running her hand over the banister like she’s already mapping where things will go. Micah trails behind, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. He doesn’t look at me once, but his gaze lands hard on the router she points out in the corner.
“Internet’s fast,” I say casually. “Fast enough to game or stream whatever soul-sucking content you’re into.”
Nothing, and then, “What’s the ping?”
I glance at him because I have no idea, but Greer must have heard, so she answers. “Was told fifteen, maybe eighteen. Wired in. No dead spots.”
Micah grunts. It’s not a thank you, but it’s not not one.
Evie wanders into the living room and immediately sits cross-legged on the floor like it belongs to her. She starts humming again, louder this time, twisting the unicorn’s ear like a dial.
Greer glances over and smiles faintly. That smile doesn’t leave her eyes. There’s exhaustion there. Not just physical—something heavier. Worn-down edges. She looks content.
“This is great.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Micah says then looks at Mags. “What do people even do around here?”
“Lots of football. Not just the team but our high school sports are the best in?—”
“Lame,” he says.
“Mic!” Greer yells.
“Fine, whatever, sorry. Where’s my bed?”
“So,” I say, walking her back toward the door, “if you need anything that’s not here—tools, batteries, food, a friend—my number’s on the fridge, and I’m right next door.”
“How do you get food around here? Send the order Morris code?” Micah calls as he heads up the stairs.
Mags snaps, “No, you dipshit, there’s a fridge full of the best homecooked food you’ll ever eat, and this kick-ass place is attached to a restaurant run by a five-star chef that”—gasp—“didn’t want to work in a city anymore because of customers who have zero manners!”
Grandma Maggie clears her throat. “My namesake and I are going to take a little walk. Let’s go, Mags.”
Greer throws her head back in laughter. “I adore that one.”
“Glad someone likes Barbies,” Micah says and slams the door behind him.
Riley clears her throat. “Might wanna tell him that’s the master.”
“I’ll be down here, ensuring he doesn’t try to hike his ass back to the city.”
Mom stands up from where she was talking to Evie, who clearly missed or ignored what just went on.
Evie stands up and walks over to Riley. “Are there owls here?”
“Sometimes.”
She nods solemnly. “Good. They’re smart.” She looks at Greer. “A smart move.”
“Yeah, baby girl, I think so, too.”
* * *
When Hudson and Skinner walk in, I wait to see Kolby, but he’s not with them.
“You lose your buddy?” I ask, trying to act like it’s not freaking me out.
“Got pulled into the office. He’s catching a ride back. Probably about his contract,” Skinner replies, but his eyes, they’re fixed on Mags.
Mags, who is pacing, red in the face, waving her arms like she’s about to call a town hall meeting.
“I’m sorry, but I hate him. Hate him. He called me Barbie.”
Skinner laughs. “She’s a bad babe. You see her movie?”
She literally shakes her fist at him and continues, “I’m so far from Barbie I might as well be in Siberia.”
Does that even make sense? I think but clearly don’t ask, because, no, it doesn’t.
Neither does Mags. Hell, I’m not even sure Mags is here anymore.
Mom is at the table with a mug of chamomile, looking like she is watching a show, too amused by this. Grandma Maggie is leaning on the counter, calmly shelling pistachios like we’re at a picnic and not a breakdown.
I’m trying to do two things at once. I’m stuck wondering if Kolby’s okay and worried Mag’s heads gonna blow, because yeah , Micah definitely pressed every one of her buttons on purpose. Cool as a glacier. Hadn’t even said a word and had her spinning like a weather vane in a wind tunnel.
Hudson hasn’t moved. “Uh … should we come back?”
Skinner takes one look at Mags, who’s now dramatically flopped over the arm of the couch like a Regency widow and cocks his head to the side. “Clue us in?”
“New neighbors,” I say. “Micah, eighteen, attitude. Mags took it personally.”
“He’s rude , ” she hisses from the couch. “Like, so freaking rude . ”
Hudson covers a laugh and wisely moves toward Riley, who’s trying just as hard as I am not to crack.
Skinner, meanwhile, pulls out his phone and taps a few buttons. “I was gonna hang, but I just got a group text. Riley and Hudson are hosting Mortal Kombat night, apparently.”
Hudson squints. “Wait— we are?”
Skinner shrugs. “You are now.” He turns his screen so Hudson can see. “I didn’t plan it. I’m just showing up and kicking ass.”
I shoot him a look. “So, you’re abandoning me to play?”
He salutes with two fingers. “No offense, but I’ve seen Riley play Sub-Zero pregnant on no sleep. I’d rather take her on than whatever’s happening here.”
Hudson chuckles as Skinner heads for the door. “Bring snacks, or she’ll murder you.”
Skinner’s already halfway out. “I’ll wait in the vehicle.”
“We’ll do dinner here and keep you company,” Mom offers.
Shit, shit, shit.
Mags is muttering about getting rabies shots. Grandma tells her that she can swing by Alex’s to get one while she’s taking her home and manages to direct her to the vehicle. Yes, Grandma drives Mags’s Jeep.
With everyone gone, I glance toward the window, where I can see Greer’s silhouette pacing the porch with her phone to her ear. Micah’s on the steps, arms crossed, gaze like a wall. They’ve been here less than two hours.
“Should I take him on a tour of the brewery?”
Mom laughs. “You sure you want to open that invitation? With his sparkling personality, he may drive customers away.”
“I’ll ask Greer before I do that. We need to go raid the fridge for dinner, anyway.”
“All right,” she says. “Let’s bundle up.”
* * *
I unlock the brewery and walk in. “There’s always something going on here.”
“Gotta be twenty-one to get in, right?” Micah asks.
“It’s a restaurant, so nope. Our families and their kids come all the time. The hunters in the area, the players, and the locals. We host banquets and parties. We open at noon Thursday through Monday during the normal football season. During hunting season, we open much earlier. We close up when it makes sense.”
“What about when the seasons are over?” he asks, looking around.
“With no Monday night games, we’re open Thursday to Sunday right now. We’ll close for two weeks after the big game.”
Mom adds, “And during the summer, the girls take two weeks off around July fourth.”
“Cool.”
I look at Greer and smile, but mostly with my eyes because getting a cool from Micah is like winning the big stuffed bear at the town fair.
“Amending.” I look at Mom. “We may close down for the four days the fair is in town and set up a fundraiser booth.”
She smiles. “Count me in.”
“The Knights need a fundraiser?” he quips. At the same time, Evie asks, “Can we go to the fair?”
Greer nods to her while I answer Micah.
“We’re going to raise money for the girls’ field hockey team.”
I get another, “Cool.”
Evie drags Greer up the stairs, where there’s extra seating and you can look down over the main dining or dance floor area—whatever it is on any given night.
“I’m going to go back with Mom and grab some food,” I tell Micah, who’s looking around.
“That a stage?”
“We sometimes have live music here, and that’s where they’ll set up; or a wedding, and that’s where the bride and groom’s table sits.”
He doesn’t ask anything else, so I kind of float away, giving him some space. I guess he needs that.
Evie explores every inch of the space, and for all I can imagine, she’s been through a lot, yet she is such a happy girl.
Mom and I settle on chicken pot pie with rosemary cream sauce, which she is making so I don’t mess it up. I’m making a chocolate chunk skillet cake.
* * *
I find out Dad and Kolby are at Grandpa Dan’s, doing wood … with axes. I do not flip out. I decide now’s a good time to take a shower.
When I come down the stairs, and my eyes meet his, they tell me a story, one that says we’re good and ends with … and he did not kill me.
The island and the little table are full, and Kolby immediately gets up to give me his chair. I swear I see Mom do a little shimmy from the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look at her, knowing she’ll figure it out before we even know what this is.
I grab my folding butterfly chair that I keep in my closet. It’s too big to leave out all the time, but I refuse to sacrifice it.
“You might as well sit back down, Kolby. When she brings that chair out, we lose her in it. It’s her favorite reading chair.”
“And I will cherish it forever and ever.”
We eat, converse, and laugh, and when we’re done, Jackson says, “We got ten minutes before we need to head out, Grimes. Apparently, we’re needed for this round of the tournament, and it starts at seven.”
“Lo made her skillet chocolate chunk cake,” Mom announces.
“Better bring that pan over and let the fight begin.” Jackson rubs his hands together.
I fight to hide my disappointment. I mean, it would seem odd if it were just he and I here for the night … but still.
Dad scoops ice cream into the bowls we brought over from the barn. Mom grabs a handful of spoons, and I pull the pan out of the oven.
“We usually do a three-second countdown after I set this on the table, but tonight, it’s going on the island, and you’re all going to let me get Evie a piece before you savages fight for it.”
“Kid, you’re lucky.” Jackson stands up.
“I know.” She smiles as he scoops her up.
“The pans hot, so Lo’s gonna give you a piece for all for you.” He sets her on a barstool. “The rest of us have to fight for it.”
She looks directly at her brother. “You can’t fight Mic, ’cause you’ll go to jail.”
“Not that kind of fight, Evie. We’re okay.”
My heart breaks a little bit as I scoop a piece out, plop it in a bowl of ice cream, and set it in front of her. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Lo.” She smiles and digs right in.
I stand back, arm myself with my spoon, and count down, “In three … two … one!”
* * *
When I throw back the blanket, I see a note, and all the disappointment I feel begins to dwindle, filling with hope—hope that it’s from him and that he’s feeling the same about not being here.
Lo,
I know we weren’t supposed to talk about this until after the game, but I want you to be the first to know—and I need it to come from me.
I can’t be there tonight to say it in person, and maybe that’s for the best. Because I need you to see all of me, and I want you to have time to take it in.
If you decide you don’t want to be close to it, to me … I’ll understand.
There’s a duffle under the bed in the other room. Inside is a folder with all my secrets. Everything you should know about my past.
KG
Now, I’m sitting here unfolding a newspaper with a post it note that says, number one and on the front page is an image of a mobile home with crime tape blocking the door.
The Morristown Gazette
Friday, May 13th, 2011
Tragedy in Hollow Creek: Double Homicide Rocks Quiet Neighborhood
By Jolene Franklin, Staff Reporter
MORRISTOWN, AK — A gruesome double homicide in the Hollow Creek area left two adults dead and a small community stunned late Thursday night.
The victims, identified as Marisol Smith, 35, and Jimmy J. [Surname withheld due to ongoing investigation], 39, were discovered in a single-family home on Ridgeview Road after a 911 call was placed shortly before midnight. Responding officers confirmed that both victims were deceased at the scene from apparent gunshot wounds.
Authorities say the incident appears to have stemmed from a domestic altercation that turned violent. According to preliminary reports, Ms. Smith and Jimmy J [Surname withheld due to ongoing investigation] were not married but had been living together for approximately six months, along with their two sons from prior relationships.
Both boys—aged 15 and 12—were in the home at the time of the incident and were found physically unharmed.
In a disturbing turn, one of the juveniles is currently in custody, suspected in connection with the fatal shootings. Due to the ages of those involved, the names of the minors have not been released. The child is being held at the Jefferson County Juvenile Detention Center pending further investigation.
“We are treating this as an active investigation and are pursuing all leads,” said Sheriff Tilden Myers during a brief press conference Friday morning. “This is a deeply tragic situation, and our thoughts are with the surviving families.”
Sources close to the investigation report that the weapon used was a shotgun. Further details on the motive remain unclear, though neighbors have described prior disturbances at the residence and alleged a pattern of “loud arguments” and “violent behavior” over the past several weeks.
Local Child Protective Services has been contacted to ensure the well-being of the surviving minor, who has been placed in temporary custody.
Notably, the older child involved had celebrated his birthday that same day.
“This is the kind of thing that rattles your bones,” said a neighbor who asked not to be identified. “You never think something like this is going to happen here.”
Authorities have not commented on whether charges will be filed or whether the case will be transferred to adult court, though legal experts note that, given the nature of the crime, it remains a possibility.
No funeral arrangements have been made public at this ti me.
I unfold the next newspaper, labeled, “ number two ” and read as tears fill my eyes start to fall.
The Morristown Gazette
Wednesday, May 18th, 2011
Page A3 – Local Crime Investigation Uncovers Long-Buried Family Tragedy
By Jolene Franklin, Staff Reporter
MORRISTOWN, AK — After over three months of investigation, authorities have confirmed that the juvenile previously held in the Hollow Creek double homicide has been fully cleared of all charges. Officials say the boy, age 15, acted in self-defense after witnessing the fatal shooting of a woman in the home by his father.
The May 12th incident, which left Marisol Smith, 35, and Jimmy J. [surname withheld], 39, dead, stunned the Hollow Creek community. At the time, the older of the two boys living in the home was taken into juvenile custody under suspicion of involvement in both deaths.
This week, law enforcement officials confirmed that Mr. [Surname] fatally shot Ms. Smith in an act of domestic violence. The juvenile, who had been reading to the younger child at the time in their shared room, fought for the weapon and fired at his father in what investigators have now classified as an act of justified force.
“He was protecting himself and another child from immediate harm,” said Sheriff Tilden Myers. “There is no doubt about that.”
In a striking development unrelated to the charges, the child was able to provide investigators with a list of previous residences the family had occupied across multiple states. One of those addresses—located outside Lubbock, Texas—led to the discovery of human remains buried near the foundation of an abandoned trailer home. Authorities are now working to see if other victims are out there.
This week, those remains were formally identified as belonging to the boy’s biological mother, who was never reported missing nearly nine years earlier. Her death is now believed to have occurred when the child was just six years old.
Authorities have not released the victim’s name publicly, but sources close to the investigation confirm that DNA testing provided the first formal proof of the boy’s maternal lineage. As a result, the juvenile will be granted a legal name change.
He is still awaiting placement with an appropriate foster family under private guardianship.
“This child endured unthinkable loss and trauma for a decade, and we can assume his entire life,” said Assistant District Attorney Carla Westin. “He should never have been labeled a suspect. He has always been a survivor, and now he’s a hero, too.”
Community members have expressed a mix of relief and quiet regret following the news. A small vigil was held Thursday evening near Hollow Creek Middle School, where the child once attended school and excelled in sports.
No further statements have been issued by family court.