Page 7 of For the Rest of Forever

“The police’ll be here any minute. I’m gonna call Greg, alright, Allen?” Joe asked, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, I—” His heart still pounded, and some strange mixture of nausea and dizziness made him lower his head to rest on his knees as he tried to steady his breathing.

“You just sit tight. You’re okay, man,” Joe said, and Allen felt him move away just a few feet, muttering some choice words under his breath. To Allen’s ears, it sounded something like “Fuckin’ teens. Dammit. Greg’s gonna be pissed.” Although, knowing Joe, there were probably several more curses tossed in there as well.

Allen closed his eyes and tried again to stabilize his breathing as he heard sirens not too far away. Everything was fine. Nothing had happened to him, and it was all fine. He was okay.

He was okay. He was okay. Really.

Around him, though, the room became a blur of voices and people and noise, and he wasn’t able to keep track.

“Allen? Hey, man, Greg’s on his way, okay? Shit, shit, shit.”

“Mr. Westin, I’m Officer Jackson. Can you tell us what happened?”

“Joe, what did you see?”

“Two kids—teens—running off. They went that way . . . Yeah, down Third Street . . .”

“Mr. Westin, was anyone else here?”

“Mr. Westin?”

“Jake, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“Has he been like this the whole time, Joe?... Well, shit.”

“Allen?! Allen? Excuse me, please. Let me through. Please, everyone please get back, leave him alone, he needs space.”

Two familiar hands settled on his knees, and he finally lifted his head and blinked his eyes open. His husband’s kind brown eyes stared back at him, soft but full of concern. Some immediate sense of relief seemed to chase away a tiny bit of the panic.

“Greg . . .”

“Hi, darling. I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay.”

He managed some sort of a nod, even though Greg’s words hadn’t been a question.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, and for the first time, he looked up at the mess of activity around him. It looked like half the town was there. There were several police officers, and his neighbor Joe stood off to one side, talking to Annabeth, the other librarian. Sandra from the ice cream shop was talking with Eleanor from the antique store near the entrance. Some man Allen didn’t recognize was taking pictures of the broken window, and groups of others milled about, talking in hushed voices, sneaking occasional glances his direction.

“Allen,” Greg said, his hands squeezing Allen’s kneesgently. “Areyou okay?”

This time it was a question, and Allen tried to refocus on his husband, even as he noticed a police officer step closer again. Still kneeling, Greg looked up at the officer.

“Jake, what happened?”

“Joe said—”

“I know what Joe said. But how could this have happened? How could—dammit. Did you catch the kids who did this yet? Do you have anyone out looking for them? Did Joe recognize them?”

“Greg, easy, man. We’ve got Cheryl and Mike out looking for them right now. Trish is following up another lead. Unfortunately, Joe didn’t have enough of a description for any identification. They were on foot, wearing nondescript clothing, and—”

“That’s not good enough,” Greg cut in. “You should—”

“Don’t, Greg. They’re doing the best they can, I’m sure,” Allen said, and he leaned forward and let out a short breath. “And I haven’t exactly been helping much. Sorry, Jake. I didn’t see anything, though. I was finishing up here, about to head out. I was back by the—the children’s table here, and I heard a loud knock on the door and then a crash, like the window shattered. And...”

He trailed off, not sure how much more he wanted to say. Greg stood up but shifted one hand to Allen’s shoulder, and he heard Jake scribbling something in a notepad. He tried to ignore the hushed whispers from the other people at the library.

“Did you happen to get a look at them? See anything at all? Even the smallest detail could help,” Jake said, but Allen just shook his head.

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