Chapter 26
Emma
“Do you think they’ll bring him back alive?” I whisper to Zen while we sit at one of the window tables inside Bee & Nugget.
They look up from the which hand is it in? game they’re playing with Bash. “Yes, Emma, they’ll bring him back alive. Scarred, but alive.”
“Too many people—namely, us —know he’s with them,” Laney says as she settles herself into the open seat with her back to the view of the lake. “Theo knows even an accident will get him in trouble. With me. In the bad way.”
“Grey too. He hates being in trouble with Laney in the bad way.” Sabrina deposits a massive plate of lemon scones and bacon in the center of the table, hands me five individual plates to pass around, then sits between Zen and Laney.
She rubs Bash’s head as he squeals at finding the Goldfish in Zen’s left hand.
“Moe!” he cries.
“Turn around and don’t peek,” Zen replies. “You can have more if you guess which hand again.”
“This feels like they’re accepting him,” I tell my friends.
The café isn’t super busy, but it’s not empty either. And while I know most of the people here, and they like keeping secrets from outsiders, I don’t know everyone .
We’re too close to ski towns and good hiking to not have tourists and visitors in town daily.
So I’m whispering basically everything.
“Are you accepting him?” Laney asks.
“Should I?”
“Nuh-uh, my friend,” Zen says. “That’s on you . We’re not influencing this decision. Haha! Not that hand, Bash. Try again.”
My son giggles and attacks Zen’s other hand.
“Agreed,” Sabrina says. “This is one you need to figure out on your own.”
Laney nods. “Sorry, Em. But if it helps, they took him just as much to give you some breathing room, knowing he’s not right around the corner for a bit, as they did to sniff out any previously unknown red flags.”
There was a time I would’ve asked if my brother knew what a red flag was, but then he got stupid rich by offering sound, solid life advice to people who were going through things.
Naked.
While knitting.
On the internet.
Which is something he’ll have to explain to his own kids someday.
But he knows the things . Despite growing up basically a total disaster—or maybe because of it—he has a pretty solid, deep understanding of boundaries and healthy relationships.
I sigh and dig into a lemon scone while Bash spots the bacon. Zen pulls him onto their lap and fixes him a plate while Laney and Sabrina grab food too.
It’s the middle of the afternoon. Laney left work early. Zen left work early. Sabrina’s technically still on the clock, but none of her staff will question the boss taking a break.
I left work early too.
Slow day.
February through April will be crazy, but I get breathing room in the summer.
I don’t pay much attention to the doorbells jingling until I realize Sabrina and Laney are both staring at something.
Creepy-crawlies take up residence in my spine, and I carefully shift my head until I can see what they see.
“Doggie!” Bash cries. “I pet doggie!”
He pulls a Houdini and slips from Zen’s grasp, and I’m a hair too slow to grab him before he’s bolting across the café to throw himself at a black-and-brown dog.
“Bash,” I start, unsure how to finish that.
Don’t run up to dogs you don’t know is what I should say.
It’s what I’ve said to him a thousand times already, and what I expect to say a thousand times more before it sinks in for him.
But Begonia Rutherford has him well in hand.
Even approaching seven months pregnant with twins, she’s squatting and redirecting his hands while smiling and talking softly to him about being careful with doggies.
“I don’t trust how much I like her,” Zen murmurs.
“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Sabrina murmurs back.
“You two,” Laney says with an affectionate sigh.
It takes me longer than it should to get out of my seat.
Mostly because Begonia and her dog aren’t alone.
Her husband—Jonas’s brother—is with them.
And I suddenly have butterflies in my throat. Not in my stomach. In my throat.
Jonas adores his brother the same way I adore Theo. You can hear it in his voice.
What happens if Hayes doesn’t like me?
What does that mean?
And why do I care ?
Don’t answer that.
I suck in a breath and make myself leave the table to join my son, who’s squealing with glee while the dog licks his fingers.
“Mama, I wan maw-mawa,” he says.
Begonia winces. “I thought Marshmallow was such a good name for him, but every time I introduce him to kids… Sorry about that.”
“No apology necessary,” I assure her. “Bash knows he has to eat a good dinner before marshmallows, don’t you?”
My son eyes me. “Mama doan.”
My ears get hot. I’ve just been put in my place by my toddler. “Mama had a cheese stick at the office before coming for scones.”
Begonia grins at me. She starts to rise, oof s, and then accepts the hand that Hayes has offered like he saw this coming. “I could do it on my own yesterday,” she mutters. “Hayes, this is my friend Emma and her son, Bash. Emma, my husband, Hayes.”
The locals are watching curiously.
The out-of-towners are oblivious.
Jonas told me Hayes is rarely recognized these days. That seems to be holding true.
“Nice to meet you,” I stammer out while Hayes takes my hand and nods back.
“Likewise.”
“Bring that cute doggy over here,” Zen says. “We’ll push the tables together.”
I slide them a look.
Am I being ambushed?
Laney and Sabrina both give me the subtle headshake of no, you’re not being ambushed, but you should get your ass back over here so you have backup .
I think.
It’s either that, or they’re telling me to make excuses and leave because this is a terrible idea.
“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” Begonia says to Zen. “Can I have extra room between my chair and the table? Turns out, I don’t fit in booths anymore. Who knew? Marshmallow. Hayes. C’mon. Let’s go make friends.”
“As you wish, my love,” Hayes murmurs.
The resemblance between him and Jonas is remarkable. It’s like they have the same eyes, chin, and nose, but if you weren’t looking for the similarities, you’d miss it entirely.
Jonas is so affable. Very approachable.
Hayes looks like my statistics professor in college who’d glare at you for asking for clarification on complex mean deviation, which I still don’t fully understand.
Bash trots along next to the dog, who pauses and sniffs at a clean table with nothing more than a vase of flowers on it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Hayes says to him.
Marshmallow whines softly and continues to our table—no, tables .
Zen’s quick.
The two window tables are already pushed together, and Sabrina’s afternoon staff is on the way with another plate of pastries.
I end up between Laney and Begonia with my back to the window. Zen takes the seat on the other side of Hayes, across from me.
They look him up and down. “You don’t like people.”
“Accurate.”
“We’ll pretend you’re not here.”
“For now,” Sabrina agrees. “If we weren’t in public, we’d have a lot of questions.”
Hayes smiles. “Always happy when a plan comes together.”
Begonia digs into her purse and hands him a thick hardcover book with an affectionate smile.
He takes a scone and settles in with his book, pausing only to glance twice at the scone after his first bite like it’s way more than he expected it to be.
Understandable.
Sabrina uses her grandmother’s recipe, and it’s legendary.
“I heard you have chickens,” Begonia says to me. “Chickens fascinate me. How’d you get into it?”
While I hand Bash bits of bacon, scone, and muffin as he pets the dog, I answer her questions about raising chickens, about what I do with the eggs, about the biggest hurdles to being a chicken lady, and about Yolko Ono and her unique personality.
And once again, I realize just how easy it is to feel safe around Begonia.
Despite having his nose in a book while the rest of us chat, I get the impression Hayes isn’t missing a single word of our conversation.
“I hope we’re invited the next time you have a family cookout,” Begonia whispers to me as we’re finishing all of the afternoon snacks. “I’ll bring my famous egg souffle.”
Hayes chokes on his tea and slides her a look.
She grins and pats his hand. “Just testing if you were listening.”
“You and famous always gets my attention.” He’s not grumpy.
Just reserved.
And he clearly adores his wife.
Good thing. I’d think far less of him if I had any doubts about that.
She shifts and looks down.
I look down too.
Bash is gone.
Marshmallow is gone.
And it takes a second longer than it should for their absence to register.
“Uh-oh,” Zen says while Sabrina shoots to her feet and Laney catches on later than usual to a problem.
Kidnappers .
It’s the first thought in my head, and it’s repeating louder and louder and louder.
Not kidnappers , I tell myself while I order my misbehaving legs to move . It can’t be kidnappers. He’s just—missing .
My heart goes hollow and dips into my stomach.
He’s missing.
Bash is missing .
In front of Jonas’s family .
“I tied him up,” Begonia says. “I swear I tied Marshmallow to the chair. With the good knot. The one he hasn’t figured out how to undo. Yet. I thought.”
“Bash,” Laney and Sabrina say together.
“There’s something about the Monroe boy genes,” Laney adds with a sigh.
KIDNAPPERS .
Oh my god.
My baby.
My baby .
My baby is missing and my body is malfunctioning. I can’t even force a word out of my mouth.
Get it together, Emma. Get. It. Fucking. Together .
He can’t be far.
He can’t.
He hasn’t been kidnapped.
No one knows who he is.
But he’s missing and Jonas’s family is here and they know I’ve lost him .
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
Hayes is on his feet, looking around. “Robert’s not here,” he murmurs to Begonia.
Zen beats Sabrina to the kitchen.
I finally get myself out of my chair to follow Sabrina and Zen toward the kitchen, my legs weighing seven thousand pounds apiece while sirens and freak-outs blare through my head. I’m stuck on the wrong side of the table to handle the fact that my son is gone .