Page 45 of Oathbreaker

August doesn’t say anything to me. He looks the other way before shuffling from side to side and going to the pantry.

I freeze. I should say something.

He rifles around the pantry for a few more seconds before moving to exit the kitchen with an unopened box of Cheese-Itz.

“How have you been, August?” I say to him before he can leave.

His tablet hangs from a woven strap across his chest.

He faces me, but he doesn’t look at me. Not that I expect or require him to. Then he walks to the island to put the box down. He types on the tablet.

“I have been okay.” He grabs the box of crackers again, hugging it to his chest. He sways from side to side, completely turned away from me.

“I’m sorry that I have been so absent,” I say to his back. His shoulders rise, but he keeps rocking. Tap, tap, tap.

“I am used to it.”

Ouch.

“I should have...” I trail off. I should have what? Stepped out of my anger and devastation to see him? Maybe. But I’m new to this and honestly don’t know how to do that.

“No one has told me anything. They said you were in an accident. That could mean several things. What kind of accident? Where? When? Are you hurt?” His breathing gets faster and faster, and distressed sounds warble from his throat. I step up to the island to stand next to him. Close. This feels like the right move.

“Let me answer your questions. I was in a car accident a few weeks ago. The same day Winter went missing, actually.”

He flinches and snaps his fingers in rapid succession.

“Leo was in the car. We got dinged up a bit, but we’re both okay.”

He makes a sound of distress, rubbing the side of his face and his eyes. He taps his cheek. “How can I get Winter better so she will be my friend again?”

I turn to him fully now and do something I haven’t done before. I touch his shoulder. And he lets me.

“Winter is still your friend. She will always be your friend. She was—” I feel the pressure grow in my throat. “She was hurt pretty badly, and that will take time to heal. She’s not talking to anyone right now. It’s not just you. She loves you.”

I keep my hand on his shoulder for several seconds, thinking of what to say, when he turns into me and hugs me.

And I hug him back, putting my cheek on top of his head. The truth settles in: He doesn’t just need someone. He needs me. And I want to be there for him.

We hold on to each other for five full heartbeats before he releases me, grabbing the Cheese-Itz again and hugging it to his chest.

He turns to leave the kitchen, and I call out to him, “Want to make a pizza tomorrow for dinner?” He tilts his head in my direction, tapping his cheek with one finger in a slow cadence.

“I want to knead the dough. You did not do it right last time.” And with that, he leaves the room.

And my chest hurts more than ever. I’m sure it’s my heart.

ELEVEN

HUNTER

There’s about sixty thousand dollars in cash, the account numbers for a bank account in Switzerland in Winter’s name, and weapons—handguns and knives that I didn’t own before last week—laid out in the wall safe in front of me. Also in the safe are three passports. Mine, August’s, and Winter’s, except our names are different.

This is my insurance.

My father got to me once, and I’ll be damned if I let it happen again—if I’d let Winter get hurt again.

I pull a handgun out and tuck it in the waist holster I carry now. Securing my suit jacket over it, I turn to the door as Leo knocks to enter. I lock the safe and return to my desk as he walks in.

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