She pressed her hands to her face, dragged them through her hair.

  “It upset me, it scared me, it infuriated me. So … I decided to pay him back. I thought, if I scared him, made him feel pain, really feel all that, he’d back the hell off. He’d leave me alone. Because he hasn’t, Grammie. More times than I’ve told you about.”

  “We’ll get back to that. What did you do?”

  “I built a dream. A game I’d pulled out of my one-of-these-days file. I built the game, practiced. Then I built it into a dream, and I pulled him into it.”

  As she told them, Rem sat again, shook his head. “That’s the game you designed, the one I beta tested. Perilous Island, snake pit and all.”

  “More or less, yeah. Actually, the one I made him play was a lot more violent—limited to two players—and more simplified.”

  She lifted her hands. “I kept it straightforward. And I liked making him play, seeing him fail, hearing him scream. I used my gift for that, even knowing it’s given to help, not to hurt.”

  “I wish I’d heard him scream.” Reaching over, Rem took her hand. “You fought back, that’s how I see it.”

  “It did scare him, and he backed off for a while. He left me alone for a while, but…”

  Because Rem couldn’t understand in the same way as her grandmother, Thea looked to Lucy.

  “You won’t get blame from me either. He came after you, and you stood up to him. But you took a terrible risk, Thea. More, you didn’t tell your family.”

  “I just didn’t want to bring it here anymore, Grammie. I just didn’t want that goddamn cloud always hanging over us. I wanted, just wanted to deal with it.”

  “Just you?” Lucy countered. “By yourself?”

  The hurt in her grandmother’s voice cut deeper than Riggs’s mind knife. “I believed, I honestly believed I could handle it. I thought I was.”

  “No more holding things back from us. Let’s make that clear.”

  “I won’t, and I’m sorry I did.”

  She looked to Rem now. “I’m sorry because both of you had a right to know. What he did, he did to all of us. What he’s doing now may be aimed at me, because he can, but it’s still about all of us.”

  “Don’t forget that. And the next time you come up with a way to hit back at him, we talk about it first.”

  “All right. I think what I did with the game scared him, hurt him. But I’m afraid it also gave him another way in, a way that lets him see more of me. He called me Foxy Loxy.”

  “Like Dad used to sometimes.”

  “He knows more about me now than I realized. He probably knows…” She paused, sighed, gave up. “I spent the night with Ty.”

  “This calls for a movie quote,” Rem decided. “We’ll go with ‘There’s a fuckin’ surprise.’”

  Lucy just cast her gaze to the ceiling.

  “Hey, look, I found my smart-ass again. Hell, Thea, anybody who didn’t see that coming wasn’t looking.”

  “Does Ty know any of this?” Lucy asked.

  “No. I’m not—we’re not … No. Aren’t I entitled to start a relationship, see where it goes, without dragging all of this into it?”

  “You are, and that’s your choice. But, Thea”—Lucy gave her hand a squeeze—“it’s hard to build a real relationship when you close off part of what you are.”

  “The one time I opened that part up to someone I cared about, it didn’t go well.”

  “You shouldn’t judge Tyler or anyone else by someone else’s failings. But take what you need, and you’ll know when it’s time. But on one thing, I’m putting my foot down. I don’t put it down often, but you know when I do, I put it down hard.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re not to go back in that cell.”

  “I can promise you I won’t. It’s costing him to pull me in, and it’s cost him to do what he did.” She touched a hand to her shoulder. “He looks sick. I told him it was eating at him, and that’s just what it’s doing, to his body and his mind. He gets nosebleeds, bleeds from the ear. Pushing so hard and long, it’s doing something to him.”

  “Then let it, and leave him be.”

  “That’s all I want, to let him be where he is. He’s planned a dozen ways to get out—probably more I haven’t seen. He looks into the minds of other inmates, guards, doctors, anyone he can, digging for something he can use to escape. That’s costing him, too.”

  Though it had gone cold, she picked up her coffee. “I should’ve told you both all of this, instead of just the bits I did. And I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t protect us,” Rem told her. “We protect each other.”

  “That’s why I keep this boy around.” Leaning over, Lucy tugged him to her, kissed his cheek. “He may be a smart-ass, but the smart in him usually outweighs the ass. Now we’ve got animals to tend.”

  “I’ll help. I already gave Bunk and my ladies breakfast before I came.”

  “I’ll take it. You come on with me, Thea, and we’ll bring Rosie in from pasture.”

  As they walked together, Lucy glanced back where Rem headed for the coop.

  “I waited to say, as I know how brothers can be. You’re in love with Ty. I can’t help but see it all over you.”

  “I am. Completely. I know it’s ridiculous, but—”

  “Why? Love’s not ridiculous, even though it can make us feel ridiculous. He’s a fine man. That’s clear as freshly shined glass, and he’s raising a bright and happy boy.”

  “Who I’m also completely in love with. And you wonder why, when that’s true, I’m not being completely honest with him. I want that time,” she said as she opened the gate to the pasture. “And more, he may not stay. He hasn’t decided, not all the way. I guess I want him to do that before I really think about telling him what I have.”

  “That seems fair.”

  * * *

  She took the time, and enjoyed the flow of it. Evenings on his porch or hers, a Sunday at the farm with food on the picnic table and Bray racing with the dogs.

  As August dripped away, she kept Riggs locked out.

  She built her own dreams, as she had since childhood. He had no place in them.

  If it cost her—a sudden headache, a restless night, a bubble of panic in her throat—she considered it a small price to pay for locking him out.

  On the night before the first day of school, she walked down just far enough to see the lights shining in Ty’s house.

  She imagined a little boy wound up about what was to come, and a man a bit frantic. Standing, the air still summer warm, she stroked her hand over Bunk’s head.

  “They’ll be fine. There’s a dad who won’t get a lot of sleep tonight, but they’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  Before dawn, Bray bounced on his father’s back.

  “Time to wake up! Time for school!”

  “Oh God, Bray. We’ve got another hour before we have to get up. Go back to sleep.”

  Ty reached around, flipped Bray onto the bed, tucked him. “You can sleep here, but go back to sleep.”

  “I’m hungry! You said I could have bacon like Thea makes and Eggos.”

  “It’s still dark.”

  “But I’m really, really hungry.” He patted Ty’s cheek. “Really hungry, and I have to brush my teeth and I have to get dressed and you have to tie my new shoes ’cause I still can’t do it. And you have to take pictures, you said.”

  “You’re killing me, Bray. Killing me.”

  Unconcerned by that, Bray wiggled, and babbled on while Ty clung to the illusion of sleep.

  As he’d clung to it at two in the morning when he’d stared at the ceiling imagining the school bus as a toothy yellow shark and Bray as the clown fish—thanks, Nemo—it swallowed.

  Or at three in the morning, when he nearly drifted off before he imagined Bray in a dark, empty school, crying for his daddy.

  Had he really thought it would get easier as Bray grew? When he’d rocked and walked and tried to soothe a wailing, teething toddler, he’d convinced himself it would get easier.

  When he’d struggled through the frustrations and complexities and general insanity of potty training, he’d sworn it had to get easier.

  When he’d fought not to panic when Bray spiked a fever of 102.3, he’d promised them both it would get easier.

  Mostly, it had. But there were times. Good God, there were times.

  “Go down and make me coffee.”

  “Daddy!” Giggling, Bray patted Ty’s cheek again.

  “The minute you’re tall enough, your primary job’s going to be making my coffee.”

  “Okay.”

  Ty opened his eyes, looked at the face nose to nose with his, the utter sweetness of it surrounded by wild bed hair.

  “I love you, Bray. You monster.”

  “Grr, grr, chomp! I love you, Daddy. I’m really, really, really hungry!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eat this!” And tickled the boy into delirium.

  But he got up, lumbered his way downstairs. He gulped down coffee while Bray raced around the house like a maniac on speed.

  He lined a cookie sheet with parchment paper—a product he hadn’t known existed before he’d googled “bacon in the oven.”

  He shoved bacon in the oven, then, because the coffee hadn’t finished the job, had to google “bacon in the oven” again for the next steps.

  “Twenty minutes, pal. Let’s go brush the green off your teeth.”

  “Not green!”

  “They would be if I didn’t make you brush them.”

  In twenty minutes, Ty had his second cup of coffee with bacon and Eggos. He decided Bray had meant the hungry, as he ate four pieces of bacon and two Eggos.

  Which made Ty worry he’d puke up breakfast on the bus and start his school career in humiliation.

  He helped his boy dress, added another shoe-tying lesson. Getting closer there. He packed the prized Endon lunch box that went into the prized Endon backpack.

  Thank you, Thea.

  He checked the contents twice.

  Spill-proof water bottle, a juice box, the spare set of clothes, including boxers—in case—a nap mat, the chosen monster truck, a box of crayons, glue sticks, sunscreen.

  Everything labeled, as advised.

  As the clock ticked down, his nerves rose up.

  “Hey, Bray, I could drive you into school, go in with you just to—”

  “No, Daddy! I ride the bus. I ride with Lucas and Rolan!”

  If a not-quite-five-year-old could look genuinely appalled, Bray pulled it off masterly.

  “Right. Just an option. Now, you remember what we talked about. You listen to your teacher, share with the other kids. And don’t say any daddy words.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay. Okay. It’s almost time for the bus, so let’s put on your backpack.”

  As he helped Bray put on the backpack, as he smoothed his little boy’s hair, the love almost flattened him.

  Why couldn’t he just keep him, keep him right here, close, safe?

  Not the job, he reminded himself. Not the way it needed to work. And that was the bitch of it.

  “You’re going to have fun.”

  “So much fun.”

  “Right. Okay. Go stand by the door so I can take your picture.”

  He took one there, one on the porch. Then heard the bus rumbling up the road.

  “Remember to wait until it stops.”

  “I know, Daddy!”

  He held Bray’s hand as they walked toward the road, and those doors opened into the maw of the bus.

  “Hi there!” The driver, a woman with a bowl of steel-gray hair, beamed out. “I’m Miss Sally. And you must be Braydon.”

  “I’m going to school.”

  “You sure are. Come on aboard.”

  Ty struggled not to clutch, made himself keep the kiss light and easy. “Off you go, pal. Turn around once, yeah, right there.”

  He took a picture of Bray, face just glowing, on the steps of the yellow bus.

  “Bye, Daddy, bye!”

  “He sure is ready,” Miss Sally said when Bray walked right on.

  “Yeah, he’s ready.”

  Guess I’m not, Ty thought as the driver gave a wave and the doors shut.

  He stood, listening to it rumble away with the biggest piece of his heart inside. Then stood a little longer in the absolute quiet of the morning.

  He told himself he could go back to bed, catch up on some sleep. But knew that for bullshit.

  He walked into the house, where the quiet screamed like sirens. He went upstairs, made the beds because why not. He cleaned up the mess in the bathroom Bray inevitably made when he brushed his teeth.

  He tossed some laundry in, wandered, actively thought about vacuuming.

  And checking the clock, realized the bus hadn’t even gotten to school yet.

  “For fuck’s sake, Ty, he hasn’t gone off to war. Get a grip.”

  He had lyrics for a song, but hadn’t nailed down the melody, much less orchestration.

  Do that, he told himself, and settled into his studio.

  His mind circled a few times, then landed on the work.

  He worked out the bones of the melody on the piano, switched to guitar, added bass, his voice. Overdubbed with some harmony. He listened to the playback, made some changes. Listened again.

  He needed another ear, he decided, and FaceTimed Blaze.

  Blaze, man bun, scarred left eyebrow from a bar fight back in the day, hooded brown eyes, flashed a grin. “Hey, man, you caught me. I’m sitting by the pool drinking my beverage of choice. Iced freaking tea. Living clean.”

  “You look good.”

  “Damn right. And look here.” He waved a blue-bound packet at the screen. “I’m reading a script. I’m a goddamn tee-vee star.”

  “Life is strange.”

  “I do like the strange. Where’s my man?”

  It put a twist in Ty’s guts to say it out loud. “First day of school.”

  Blaze tossed the script aside, sat up from his reclining position. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “I put him on the bus … Jesus, three hours ago. I’m sending you a picture. He got right on, basically, See you later, Dad. He’s so happy here.”

  “You gonna be a Kentucky boy now, brother?”

  “It looks like it. He’s got friends, the neighbor’s dog, room to run, which he does constantly. I’m thinking about building on a studio. You need to come down here, you and Mac and Scott. I could use some input there.”

  “We’ll get there.”

  “Meanwhile, I’ve been working on one. It feels pretty solid.”

  “You run it by Mac?”

  “He’s touring, I think he’s in California, so too early.”

  “I’m the default.” Blaze shrugged, then settled back. “Lay it on me.”

  Ty hit playback, nodded at the opening notes, the first lyrics.

  I see her in sunlight, and she shines. All day I wonder when she’ll be mine. I see her in moonlight, and she glows. In my heart, the longing grows.

  I see her.

  Simple, Ty thought. Slow, simple. No tricky key changes, nothing overorchestrated.

  On-screen, Blaze sat, eyes closed. After the last note, he opened them. “Dreamy.”

  “That was the goal.”

  “Goal met. You know, that’s going to be played at about ten million weddings.”

  “A handy by-product. Does it work?”

  “Shit yeah. Makes me want to grab my lady and give her a nice, slow spin. You in love, brother?”

  “No.” On a laugh, Ty shook his head. Then stopped, shrugged. “Maybe got a thing.”

  “Don’t tell me. The sexy, long-legged, blue-eyed neighbor with the big-ass dog.”

  “She hits some notes.”

  “Now I’ve gotta get down there, check out the one who got past Ty’s guard. How about my man? What’s he think?”

  “Bray’s crazy about her. Her big-ass dog doesn’t hurt. The other day she had him helping her feed her chickens, get eggs, let him help her make pancakes. She’s … different. Not like anybody else I know. But, you know, normal. No How about signing this Code Red CD so I can cash in on eBay or going online with how Tyler Brennan made her chicken on the grill.”

  On-screen, Blaze shot up a hand. “Hold on. You made chicken?”

  “I’m developing untapped skills. Closest takeout’s twelve miles away.”

  “You’re in the freaking wilderness, man.”

  “Compared to Philadelphia, yeah. And here’s a kick in the balls. I like it. It feels right here. It feels right for Bray here.”

  “We’re coming down there, give you the Code Red seal of approval. We’ll work that out. I miss you, man.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I’m signing off before I get sloppy. One thing first. You oughta record that song yourself. Don’t start,” he said before Ty could speak. “You don’t have to do an album, just the single. No performances, no tour. Think about it. Check you later.”

  He signed off, leaving Ty frowning at the screen.

  Maybe. Maybe he’d think about it.

  And maybe he’d build a serious recording studio. If and when he wanted to record, he could do it right there.

  Pull in people he knew and trusted.

  Maybe, maybe. Maybe think about it.

  But right now he had to deal with the laundry he’d forgotten he’d tossed in the washer.

  * * *

  When the bus pulled up that afternoon, Ty stood outside waiting. Bray scrambled off.

  “Daddy! I’m home from school!”

  He rushed over so Ty could lift him up.

  “How’d it go?”

  “I got two stickers!”

  “Get out of town.”

  “I did, because I knew the whole alphabet and I can count all the way to a hundred and know all the colors. I know yellow and blue make green like Grave Digger, and…”

  Ty listened as he carted Bray into the house.

  “I have so many friends.”

  “I bet you do.”

  Like every boy in the history of boys, in Ty’s estimation, Bray dumped his backpack on the floor.

  “And when Joey didn’t know the alphabet, Kevin laughed at him and pointed, and I said that was mean, and he pushed me.”