Chapter 17 #2
Remedy kept Charlie in his arms while answering. “No visual contact. Mace and Gage followed the second trail to the creek, but the tracks disappear near the old logging bridge. Carson found tire impressions on the far bank.”
“Pickup?”
“Too narrow. Probably an ATV.”
“So the second man had another exit.”
“Looks that way.”
Steel returned with the diner bag open. “Meaning they planned separate routes.”
“Or one stayed behind longer than the other,” Remedy said.
The tension in the foyer sharpened.
I looked at him. “Do you think he’s still out there?”
“I think we don’t assume he’s gone until we prove it.”
He did not soften the answer.
I appreciated him for it, even as fear tightened inside me again.
Charlie felt the change in his body and touched his cheek.
“Bad woods?”
Remedy looked at her for a long moment before answering.
“Uncertain woods.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means we stay together until we know more.”
Charlie looked toward me, then Daisy, then every adult gathered nearby.
“We’re already together.”
The obvious certainty in her voice eased the room enough for several people to smile.
Remedy kissed the top of her head. “You’re right.”
He carried her into the common room, where she immediately began telling him everything he had missed during movie day.
I followed, listening as she explained the broccoli army, Mr. Pickles’ guardian badge, and Steel’s unacceptable choice of snacks.
Remedy gave every detail his full attention despite the exhaustion tightening his face, asking questions at exactly the right moments and never making her feel the day outside her story had mattered more.
When Charlie finally wriggled down to retrieve the paper dragon, I moved closer.
“You need to sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“That means no.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “You’ve all coordinated.”
“Sit.”
He lowered himself onto the couch with a quiet groan he tried to disguise.
I noticed.
Of course I did.
His shoulders were rigid, his hands scraped and reddened from hours in the woods, and a narrow line of dried blood marked one knuckle.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“Let me see.”
Remedy glanced around the common room. “I’m the medic.”
“And I’m asking to look.”
The distinction mattered.
He held out his hand.
I sat beside him and examined the cut across his knuckle, shallow but packed with dried dirt. “How did this happen?”
“Barbed wire.”
“You should clean it.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
I gave him the same patient stare he used on difficult residents.
Remedy sighed. “Now.”
I fetched the small first-aid kit from beneath the front desk and returned before he could escape.
He allowed me to clean the cut while Charlie sprawled on the floor nearby, adding new wings to the paper dragon.
Every few seconds Remedy’s attention shifted from my hands to my face, and the awareness of his gaze made the simple act feel more intimate than it should have.
“This might sting,” I warned.
“I’ll survive.”
“It’s alright to admit something hurts.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His mouth curved. “Probably not.”
The familiar exchange warmed me.
I pressed the antiseptic pad gently across the scrape, and his fingers tightened once before relaxing.
“You’re allowed to be tired too,” I said.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep asking.”
“Because you keep forgetting.”
Remedy looked toward Charlie. “There hasn’t been much time.”
“There never is.”
“No.”
I finished cleaning the cut and placed a small bandage across his knuckle.
“There.”
He examined it. “Very professional.”
“I had a good teacher.”
His gaze lifted to mine. “You’re learning too much.”
“I notice things.”
“I’ve noticed.”
The room continued around us. Children laughed at the television, Steel argued with Mace over whether spicy chips counted as dinner, and Bishop answered another call near the hallway. Yet for several seconds, the noise receded beneath the quiet look Remedy gave me.
His hand turned beneath mine until our fingers rested together.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I wanted to.”
The echo of our earlier conversations made both of us smile.
Then his expression changed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Cipher found another reference to Sanctuary.”
My heart tightened.
“What kind?”
“A property-tax record under a church foundation. South of the state line.”
“Active?”
“We don’t know.”
“Does Brother Malachi appear?”
“Not by that name.”
“But?”
“One director has used six different legal identities over twenty years. Same age range. No current photograph.”
The cold from the woods seemed to follow him into the room.
“Could be him.”
“Could be.”
I looked toward Charlie, who had begun explaining the dragon’s new wings to Nathan.
“What happens now?”
“Cipher and Autumn dig through the records. Toxic contacts the other chapters. We keep searching the perimeter and wait to see whether Malachi makes another move.”
“Waiting sounds dangerous.”
“It is.”
“Then why would he show himself on the camera?”
Remedy’s jaw tightened. “That’s the part I don’t like.”
“He wanted us to know.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The helplessness in that answer frightened me more than certainty would have. Remedy was accustomed to solving immediate problems—stopping bleeding, stabilizing injuries, creating order inside chaos. The man in the woods had offered only a message none of us understood.
I lowered my voice. “Do you think he was warning me?”
“Maybe.”
“Or threatening me.”
“Maybe.”
“Or trying to make me leave Harbor House.”
Remedy’s hand closed more firmly around mine.
“Then he miscalculated.”
I met his eyes.
“I’m not leaving.”
The words came before fear could revise them.
Something fierce and relieved moved across his face.
“Good.”
“I’m still afraid.”
“You can be afraid here.”
“I might become difficult.”
“I’ve met Charlie. My standards are flexible.”
A laugh escaped me.
Across the room, Charlie looked up. “What?”
“Nothing,” Remedy said.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously before returning to her dragon.
Remedy leaned closer, keeping his voice for me alone. “I meant what I said. You don’t have to become fearless to stay.”
For years, I had believed courage meant erasing every sign of weakness before anyone could use it. Remedy kept offering another definition: fear could remain, grief could remain, uncertainty could remain, and I could still choose the life growing around them.
I looked down at our joined hands.
“Will you stay tonight?”
The question emerged quietly, but I did not take it back.
Remedy’s expression softened. “Here?”
“Yes. At the clubhouse. With Charlie.”
“And you?”
“If there’s room.”
“There’s always room.”
The answer felt larger than the practical question.
Charlie appeared beside the couch before either of us could say more, holding the dragon drawing above her head.
“Family picture!”
Remedy accepted the page and studied the three figures beneath the dragon’s enormous wings. One had dark hair and too many arms. One wore a yellow dress. The smallest held a brown bear. All three stood beneath a purple roof while blue circles surrounded them like guardian ladybugs.
“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing toward the yellow figure.
Charlie looked at him as though he had forgotten something obvious.
“My Sunshine.”
Remedy glanced toward me.
“And the roof?”
“Our house.”
The room became quieter inside me.
Charlie climbed between us and leaned against both our sides, unaware that she had just taken every hope I feared naming and drawn it in crayon.
Remedy looked at the picture again before handing it carefully back to her.
“It’s beautiful, Bug.”
“I know.”
She settled more deeply between us, Mr. Pickles tucked beneath her chin while the movie continued across the room.
Remedy’s shoulder pressed lightly against mine.
Neither of us moved away.
Outside, men still searched wet woods for someone who wanted us afraid. Inside, a little girl had drawn a home large enough to hold all three of us.
For the first time, the picture did not feel impossible.
It felt like something I was beginning to want badly enough to protect.