Chapter Twenty-One
Oliver
I pushed another bite of mint chocolate chip around my cup with my spoon. It had been one of those weirdly slow afternoons. The lunch rush had come and gone. The after-school crowd hadn’t shown up yet.
Which meant Jude and I had claimed the booth closest to the front windows while Ever and Lark wiped down the counter for probably the fifth time.
The bell over the front door jingled and I looked up.
Wrecker walked in first, followed by Dad, who was followed by Mom. Alice brought up the rear.
Ever looked up from the register. “It’s about time we hear something.”
Wrecker frowned. “I texted Jude three hours ago and told him we’d stop by.”
I looked across the table.
Jude scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I got it.”
Ever narrowed her eyes. “You got it?”
“Yep.”
“You didn’t tell me?”
Jude shrugged. “I forgot.”
Ever planted both hands on her hips. “Are you serious?”
He nodded without an ounce of shame. “Yeah. Because if I’d told you, you would’ve spent the last three hours staring out the window waiting for them.”
“I would not.”
“You absolutely would’ve.”
Ever grabbed the towel she’d been using to wipe the counter and whipped it toward him. It made it about halfway before fluttering to the floor.
Jude pointed. “You missed.”
“I wasn’t aiming very hard.”
Dad walked past all of us and pushed his glasses onto the top of his head. “Can we get ice cream before we talk?”
“Jesus,” Wrecker muttered.
Alice and Nikki were already standing at the register looking up at the menu.
Alice looked over her shoulder. “Oh, like you didn’t already know we were getting boozy shakes.”
Wrecker sighed dramatically. “I knew.”
“You act surprised every time.”
“I keep hoping one day you’ll all say no.”
Alice laughed. “You know us better than that.”
Wrecker slid into the booth across from Jude and me.
The second he sat down, I knew something wasn’t right.
Not panic.
Not relief.
Just frustration.
“Bad news?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It’s one big fucking question mark.”
“Don’t you guys start talking without us over there,” Ever called from behind the counter.
“We’re coming,” Nikki answered.
A few minutes later, everyone had ice cream.
Alice carried a Purple Cow shake with enough whipped cream to qualify as a meal. Mom had ordered a White Russian shake, and Dad carried a vanilla waffle cone absolutely buried in rainbow sprinkles.
The five of them made their way over.
Mom and Dad slid into the booth behind ours with Alice.
Ever came around the counter and sat next to Alice. Lark followed, and without saying a word, she settled onto my lap like she’d been doing it forever.
My arm wrapped around her waist automatically. She leaned back against me while stealing a bite of my ice cream.
“You know,” I said, “you could’ve gotten your own.”
“I could’ve.” She stole another bite. “But yours tastes better.”
I chuckled. “Liar.”
“I absolutely am.”
Jude leaned forward. “So what’s the deal?”
Dad grunted. “A bunch of bullshit.”
“It wasn’t the van?” I asked.
Wrecker nodded. “It was. The plates matched the numbers Ever got.”
“And it was parked at the motel?” I asked.
“Right where B said it’d be.”
Jude frowned. “So... what?”
Wrecker spread his hands. “That’s it.”
“There wasn’t a damn thing inside?” I asked.
He looked at me. “Nothing. No trash. No receipts. Not even a stray fucking straw wrapper.”
“They cleaned it?”
Dad nodded. “Spotless.”
He bit a massive chunk off his ice cream cone.
Ever stared. “My God.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Did you just bite that?”
He frowned. “How the hell else am I supposed to eat ice cream?”
Ever blinked. “Doesn’t your brain freeze?”
Lark twisted around enough to look at him. “God damn. I mean...” She pointed at the cone. “You just raw dogged half that thing in one bite.”
Mom immediately sputtered into her shake.
Alice lost it and she doubled over laughing. “Raw dogging!” she wheezed.
“Oh my God,” Wrecker grunted.
Dad looked around the table. “What?”
He circled one finger impatiently. “We’re talking about the Northbound Reapers.” He took another giant bite. “Not how I eat ice cream.”
Even I cringed watching him. That looked painful.
“Because if we keep talking about how I eat ice cream...” His eyes landed on me. “...then I’m going to start talking about how Lark’s sitting on your lap and nobody’s making a big deal out of it.”
Mom reached across the table and smacked his shoulder. “Would you stop? We talked about this.”
Alice leaned forward immediately. “What did you talk about?”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “We talked about how we were never worried about Oliver.”
Dad nodded. “Now Arlo...” He pointed his cone dramatically. “That kid we’re worried about.”
“Concerned,” Mom corrected.
Mom smiled over at me. “You’ve got your dad’s charm.” Her eyes drifted toward the front windows. “Your brother...” She sighed. “...he’s still figuring it out.”
Lark reached up and pressed a kiss against my cheek. “Like father, like son, I guess.”
I cleared my throat and shifted a little in the booth. Every time someone compared me to Dad, a tiny part of me still remembered he wasn’t technically my dad.
I hated that my brain still went there.
He’d spent more years raising me than anyone else ever had.
Loved me.
Protected me.
Never once made me feel different.
Yet every now and then, that little voice still whispered. Not really.
Jude must’ve noticed my expression because he whistled. “Can we get back to the van before this gets emotional?”
The tension disappeared, and Wrecker nodded. “Right. The van’s a dead end. But Drew and Demi gave us good descriptions of the three guys. They remembered a lot.”
“Archie still says nobody checked into the motel?” I asked.
“Nope.”
Dad shook his head. “They parked the van and then disappeared.”
“So they had another vehicle?” Jude guessed.
“Maybe,” Dad said. “Maybe they walked.”
“Maybe somebody picked them up.” Wrecker shrugged. “We’ve got theories but no answers.”
“Was the van registered to one of them?” I asked.
Dad snorted. “Stolen.”
“Which wasn’t exactly surprising.” I sighed. “I guess B’s happy he finally gets to leave the motel.”
Dad laughed. “Oh, his ass isn’t going anywhere.”
“Drew and Demi are staying there now.” A grin spread across Wrecker’s face. “Yeah, Basil’s pissed.”
Alice pointed her spoon at him. “Call him B.”
Wrecker shook his head immediately. “Nah. His name’s Basil.”
“You accepted Ender going by Joker,” Mom reminded him.
“Different. He earned that,” Wrecker reasoned.
“Basil just wants to be called B.”
“Nope.” Wrecker did not care at all about what Basil wanted.
Dad chuckled. “Carnie could’ve picked a better spice.”
Mom groaned. “Oh my God. Not this again.”
“I’m serious.” He shrugged. “I said the same thing when the twins were born. Clove?” He nodded approvingly. “Cool.” Then he grimaced dramatically. “Basil. I’d probably want to go by B too.”
Wrecker pointed his spoon toward Dad. “He wants a road name, he earns one. Until then... Basil.”
Alice sighed happily into her shake. “I love that we came here to talk about the Northbound Reapers...” She looked around the table. “...and now we’re eating ice cream while debating whether Basil deserves a nickname.” She smiled. “Fun.”
Wrecker leaned back in the booth. “Sounds like a normal Fallen Lords meeting.” He looked around at all of us. “I come in here trying to talk business.” He pointed toward Dad’s half-devoured cone. “We somehow end up discussing the violent way Pipe eats ice cream.”
Dad shrugged. “It works.”
Wrecker rubbed a hand over his beard. “Fucking chaos.”
Alice gasped and her eyes lit up. “We need shirts.” Everyone looked at her. She slapped the table excitedly. “‘Fucking Chaos.’” She started giggling. “No names. No logos. Just...” She threw her hands in the air dramatically. “‘Fucking Chaos.’”
Lark raised her hand. “I’d wear that.”
“So would I,” Ever laughed.
Jude pointed toward Wrecker. “Congratulations. You accidentally started another clubhouse T-shirt.”
Wrecker groaned. “Just one time I would have a meeting not turn into a circus.”
Alice winked at Wrecker. “Keep dreaming, baby. One day that might happen.”