Page 91 of Synced to Us

“It’s a lot to take in. Maybe if Brad’s given the chance to explain himself, this can be…” Ugh, I can’t even finish the sentence. Senior Analyst Dee can just fuck off right about now.

“No, you’re right,” Wyn says in response to my grimace. “It’s better to approach this calmly. Less murder-like. Can you come with me? Back to Thicketville? I think I need my righthand woman for this.”

I rise from the chair, wrap my arms around his waist, and rest my head against his heaving pec muscles. As soon as his arms envelop me, his heaves subside. Slightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, my hair billowing with his huffs.

* * *

The trip to Thicketville isn’t as harrowing as the first. This time I’m smart enough to pack light and dress in leggings, a plain tee, and a jean jacket.

We even found a seat, and while the train sped out of the city and into the burbs, Wyn told me of his mother’s relapse, obvious worry straining the skin around his eyes.

I held his hand while he spoke. “You’re not alone in this anymore. I’ll help you any way I can. Okay?”

He leans over the armrest and presses his forehead to mine. “Thank you. But this isn’t your burden.”

“What worries you, worries me.”

His cheeks lift. I scrape my thumb across his stubble, dipping into the small dimple by his chin. “Fair warning. I haven’t been a part of something this meaningful in…ever.”

Wyn pulls back and bops my nose. “Me neither. Should be fun.”

Laughing under my breath, I settle into his shoulder, enjoying the rest of the ride with the white noise of a rushing train and the soothing beats of his heart as my background music.

We arrive in the early afternoon, deliberately avoiding weekend morning rush hour and catching a later train. No one’s there to greet us at the station, considering May doesn’t drive, and we haven’t given Brad the head’s up we’re here. One of the two town taxis waits at the curb, and we slide in, Wyn giving him his old address.

My heart rate kicks into high gear when we pull up to the house. I’d told Wyn everything I’d gleaned and my suspicions that came along with it. To say he took it well would be a huge exaggeration, but at least there are hours between the revelation and now. Wyn’s had time to think it through, maintain calm, and I’m hopeful I can stop any murder sprees before they begin.

“Brad’s here,” I say, staring at the gray pickup truck shining in the afternoon sun. Now that I’m really looking at it in daylight, I notice it’s not the kind of car for kids, much too clean and with a small backseat.

“Must be a bitch to get kids’ car seats in and out,” I observe as we exit the taxi.

“A baby seat has never touched that thing,” Wyn grunts, throwing our duffels over each shoulder. “They used to have a sedan but sold it when Lucy lost her job.”

“Huh. I wonder where the funds of that sale went.” Then I add: “How do they get the kids around now?”

He replies in an ominous tone, “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

Wyn leads the way up the freshly painted patio stairs, matching the bright blue of the rest of the house. The white trim still needs a lot of work, but I’m noticing spots of fresh paint in the areas that needed the most attention. “Has Lucy still been working on the house?”

“She and her dad, yeah. He comes a few times a week when Brad’s at work, helping Lucy learn.”

“That’s great.” And I mean it. I’m glad Lucy’s found both an outlet and passion.

Wyn doesn’t knock when we reach the top. He pulls the screen door open and shouts, “Ma!”

A faint voice responds. Wyn drops our bags at the bottom of the staircase, and I follow him into the kitchen.

May spots me when I round the corner. “My goodness! My boy won his girl back. It’s a pleasure to see you, dear!”

I startle. “You told her?”

“Everything.” Wyn nods, but his focus is elsewhere. He scans the den and kitchen. “Where’s Brad and family?”

“Outside, darling. Brad’s grilling up some burgers.”

Wyn flicks his gaze back to May. She’s sitting at the table nursing a cup of tea. “You feeling good?”

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