Chapter 28
Nicole
A noise coming from the front door woke me up.
My body jerked upright. The couch groaned underneath me as I pushed myself up. I was still dressed. Same pants. Same wool sweater. Same shoes.
I must have passed out here after Detective Nolan took the Dustin family to the shelter.
I turned toward the hallway with a stiff neck and found Dylan standing in the doorway.
Tall. Too tall for sixteen. Just like his dad had been back then.
Fog clouded my thoughts. The room felt foggy, like I was still dreaming.
“W-what time is it?” I looked for my phone. The cushions must have swallowed it.
“Eleven in the morning,” Dylan said.
My whole body went rigid. “Dear God, I never sleep that long.”
I looked him over. Sneakers. Jeans. A baseball cap pulled low, the same way his dad always wore it. His school bag hung loose over one shoulder.
“Wait.” I pushed myself to my weak feet. “Why aren’t you in school, Dylan?”
He crossed the room and sat in the TV chair beside the couch. He leaned back, shoulders sinking into the worn cushion as his fingers played with the loose fabric.
“Because …” The sentence died halfway out of his mouth.
“Oh, Dylan. Did you get in trouble again? Did you get suspended?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. Dad called the school for me. He told them I was sick today.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
His eyes scanned me, head to toe.
“Are you okay, Grandma?”
“Yeah.” That came too fast. “Why, honey?”
He wrinkled his forehead. “You joking? Have you looked at yourself?”
My gaze drifted to the hallway mirror. Even from here, the reflection hit hard.
My hair was unbrushed, sticking out in uneven strands. Mascara was smeared beneath my eyes, black and harsh. I was still wearing the same clothes I’d been in for three days straight. I stank of perfume and sweat.
I looked like I’d escaped the psych ward and stopped here for a nap.
My throat tightened. “I’m just … a bit tired, honey.” I forced my lips into something that looked like a smile. “But why aren’t you in school? Please just tell me. I don’t want to worry for nothing.”
“I …” His gaze dropped to his shoes as his fingers went back to playing with the ripped piece of fabric on the chair.
“Dylan,” I said. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Ah, fuck it.” He lifted his head, and his eyes locked onto mine. “I’m going to visit Mom in jail today.”
My body moved before my thoughts caught up, and I rose to my feet. “You’re what?”
“Don’t get mad.” He stood up like he’d expected this. “I didn’t want to do it behind your back. So I came here first. To tell you in person and ask if you want to come with me.”
“But … but you can’t visit her!”
He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Why not? She’s my mom. I’m sixteen.”
“I get that, honey, but your mom …”
Your mom what?
Your mom looks like she’s dying from the cancer I was hiding from him?
The words clogged in my throat.
“My mom what?” he asked, eyes narrowing like he could already hear the lie forming.
“She …” I swallowed. “People don’t just let kids visit jails. The jail needs to approve it. They need to run background checks. All of that. I don’t even know if they allow minors at all.”
His arms crossed over his chest. “Mm-hmm. Well, I have good news then. Dad called them first thing this morning for me.”
My stomach dropped. “He did what?”
A humorless sound left him. “Yeah, he’s actually good for something when he’s sober.” His mouth twisted. “Amanda somehow keeps him out of the bars. Not like we could.”
“Amanda, huh? Well, I’m sure she told you it’s better not to go and see your mom.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “It was her idea. She thinks it would help me. Help me process things. Sort out all my emotions.”
The room grew hotter suddenly.
None of this felt real. I’d been gone from them for what? Two days? Or was it three? Four? And then this?
“Well, that’s very kind of Amanda,” I said slowly. “But maybe Amanda isn’t the best judge of things right now. Amanda isn’t doing so well herself.”
“So? None of us is,” he snapped.
And why wouldn’t he defend her? Even I knew she was right. Seeing Lacey might help him. Might ground him. But what none of them knew was that Lacey was dying.
In all the fighting to get her out, to stretch her time, to get her better medical care, I hadn’t let myself think about the other possibility. The one where she didn’t make it. The one where she died in there.
Without Dylan.
Without the kids.
Without good-byes and last hugs.
The idea pressed down on my shoulders until my body gave in and dropped back onto the couch. My breathing struggled to catch up, and I stared wide-mouthed into nothingness.
Dylan rushed forward to my side. His hand closed around mine. Warm. Strong. The only thing linking me to reality. To being alive at all. Without it, I might have slipped somewhere dark and hollow. Somewhere I’d already been visiting too often lately.
“Grandma, you all right?”
The sound of his voice reached me, but no words formed into an answer. My mouth opened, then closed again.
“If it upsets you so much, I won’t—”
“No,” I said, and pushed myself to sit upright. “No. You’re right. You should see your mom. I’m sorry I didn’t take you to see her sooner.”
“It’s okay.” He placed his arm around me, protective. “I know you’re doing all this for us. Even more than for her. You’re doing it for me.”
I looked at him long and deep. Those blue eyes were just like his father’s. But Dylan’s were stronger.
I smiled and rested my hand against his cheek.
What a man Dylan had become. Everything his father wasn’t.
“I talked with the jail psychologist this morning,” he said. “He was able to get me an emergency visit this afternoon. He said Mom isn’t doing well.”
I nodded, and my vision started to blur. My thumb brushed his cheek before falling back into my lap.
“He’s right, sweetheart.” I was barely holding it together. “And there’s something else you need to know about your mom. But before I tell you, I need you to listen to me.”
I gripped his hand tighter.
“I’m fixing this. I’m getting her out. So she’ll have more time. With us.”
His eyes never left mine.
He was so strong. Stronger than any sixteen-year-old should be.
Dylan nodded at me. Giving me permission to finally tell him the truth.