Page 98 of Under Water

It surprises me so badly, it takes me a second to respond, and I’m not sure how tight to hold him because I don’t know what he’s gone through.

“You found me,” he whispers.

I ease back and shake my head. “Westin recognized you.”

“From the pool,” Elio says. “Your friend. I tried to blink Morse code at her. She must have understood me.”

“She understood you,” I lie to him, because there’s no harm in that right now, and he takes my hand and squeezes it. “She called me and told me you were in danger, and I walked her through what to do, but she’s the one who came up with the idea to put her keys in the car.”

Elio’s eyes are kind of shining. “I want to buy her something pretty. I kind of want to marry her.”

“Oh, buddy. She’s already getting married.”

He scoffs. “Does he have a badass wheelchair?”

I can’t help a small smile. “Actually, he does. I mean, not as cool as yours, but he also has crutches and a cane.”

Elio groans and flops his head back, but he’s smiling now. The bruise is more noticeable, but I still hold my tongue. “Can we still go to North and Leo’s?”

“Well, uh…” Rune starts.

My heart starts to fall. “We’ll be safe there,” I tell him. “I told the cop to talk to Detective Ahmed about the trackers, and she’ll probably make sure he can’t get access to you at all. I’m hoping that means he’s not going to be offered a bond.”

Rune licks his lips, then glances at Elio before he gives a small nod. “Yeah. We can go.”

Elio cheers, and I want to be just as loud, but instead, I slip out of the car and get behind the wheel.

“Will you make lasagna tonight?” Elio asks as I pull out onto the road.

For a second, I think he’s asking me, and I’m about to break this kid’s heart, but then Rune nods. “You got it.” He shifts toward me. “You think they have the ingredients?”

I laugh. “Yeah. Trust me. North will have everything.”

TWENTY

RUNE

I appreciate being asked to make a lasagna. I make it from scratch, which allows me to make it the way Elio can eat it, and it gives me something to do that isn’t hyperfocusing on what just happened. I’m still reeling, and the reality of today hasn’t really hit me properly. And I know it will.

I can feel the weight of my breakdown hovering at my edges, waiting for the most opportune—or maybe inopportune—moment to begin. But for now, I can stand in the kitchen kneading dough and watching through the window as Easton and Elio swing in the little gazebo.

This was not supposed to be how our first night here was meant to go. Or any night here, really. This was going to be our little getaway—our play-pretend at a shared home and something like family—but instead, I know Elio’s attempting to deal with the trauma with humor, and Easton is being very quiet and very attentive.

And I’m avoiding everyone.

Like usual.

The only things I did manage to get done after we got to North’s place were to send my parents a text letting them know everything that had gone on, and then try my best to get ahold of Elio’s mom.

It was already late in London though, and Daphne must have been dead asleep because normally she answers, no matter what time it is. I left her a message letting her know we needed to speak and that she might get a call from a detective.

It’ll terrify her, so I have my ringer on high because the last thing in the world I want is for her to hear about this from anyone else. She’s not really an involved mother, but she is a very loving mother, and I know it’s her worst nightmare that anything might happen to her son.

I just hate that it was my fault for bringing that shithead into our lives. I hate that I didn’t have the balls to chase him down and slap divorce papers in his hand years ago.

I hate that I was such a fucking coward and let things just lie.

Taking a breath, I turn toward the bowl that the bechamel is resting in, then look over at the pot of meat and sauce slowly simmering. My chest goes tight suddenly as all the events from today flash through my mind.