Page 15 of Homecoming

“I, erm, yeah,” I stutter, showing the most emotion I have shown throughout this whole process.

“Good, I'm glad. A woman from social services is waiting for you and will take you to get your belongings from the trailer and then drive you to Oregon.”

Crap, I won't be able to take my bike then. I might have to call in a favor to get someone to bring it down to me, although the fewer people that know where I am going, the better, just in case. D would be the safest bet, but I don’t have any way to contact him.

Echoing my thoughts, the cop continues, “There are only a handful of people who know where you are going, and we are going to keep it that way. No one else has seen your mother’s will, and your father won't be able to point anyone in the right direction.” She adds somewhat reassuringly, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. He won’t be able to point anyone in the right direction because he is dead.

I just nod. My mind is still stuck on the fact they’re sending me home; I'm going to see my boys again—the boys who are my happy place.

No.

They aren’t mine anymore, and they won't want the me that I have been forced to become through circumstance. I am not the carefree child who would laugh at pretty much anything and who would run away screaming if I saw a tiny spider. I have since learned there are far worse things out there than a harmless arachnid.

Chapter Ten

Ever

Iawake with a jolt, sitting up before my eyes are even properly open, my knives drawn. Before I can work out what woke me up, there is a soft knock on the door.

“Ever, dinner is ready!” Jenny calls through the door.

Thank fuck she didn’t come in to wake me up. That would have been hard to explain. I slowly force my grip to loosen on my knives and release a heavy breath.

“Coming!” I call out, my voice groggy.

I only arrived today, but Jenny offered for me to have a nap before dinner, and I was tired enough that I couldn't help it and fell asleep.

I am half tempted to try to go back to sleep, but my stomach effectively squashes that plan when it growls loudly at the mention of food. It has been days since I ate something more than a couple of crackers.

I jump up and place one knife back under my pillow and the other in a pocket, similar to the sheaths on my jacket that I have sewn into the waistband of my jeans. Until I can prove to my illogical and damaged side that I am safe here, I’m going to have to have at least one of my knives on me at all times. Especially if I don’t want to have a panic attack. They are sort of like a fucked-up version of a security blanket.

I move my stuff away from the bedroom door and briefly wonder if I could get away with taking my bag down with me without looking as crazy as I clearly am. Probably not.

I take a deep breath and walk out of the room and down the stairs, leaving my bag behind. I easily remember the way to the kitchen. Most of my daydreams took place in one of the boy’s homes, and I have never forgotten the layout of them.

As I approach the kitchen, I stand cautiously on the threshold, unsure of the usual protocols for this situation; as I peer in, my eyes land on Rob, Trick’s father. I’m once again startled by how little Rob has changed. My father looked haggard and at least ten years older than Rob or Jenny does, but then again, I guess drugs will do that to you. They both spot me at the same time as Jenny places the last dish on the table.

“Ever, it’s so lovely to see you.” Rob greets me.

I can tell that Jenny warned him of my ratty appearance since outwardly, he doesn’t react in any way apart from the sorrow, which I still don’t understand, shadowing his eyes. I offer a small smile, grateful that he didn’t try to hug me; that wouldn’t have ended well.

“Come and sit darling,” Jenny says.

I move further into the room, my eyes widening at the massive mound of pasta, a giant bowl of salad, and a heaping plate of garlic bread set out on the table. I don’t think I have seen this much food in years. My mouth begins to salivate.

“Help yourself. I may have gone a bit overboard. The boys eat like they are starving animals most of the time, so I have gotten used to making huge quantities.” Jenny and Rob chuckle, and I smile at them, desperately wanting to pile my plate high with food.

I wait until they’ve both filled their plates before loading my own with helpings of pasta, garlic bread, and salad. I am so focused on my food and getting it into my mouth as fast as possible so it can’t be taken away from me that I am not paying attention to my surroundings.

I finish my food in record time and suddenly remember my dusty manners. That was rude, right?

I stiffen and glance up at Rob and Jenny, only to find them both staring at me with wide eyes. I shrink in on myself, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Before I can thoroughly think through the repercussions, I blurt out the truth.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t eaten for a while, and I can’t remember the last time I saw this much food or had a hot meal. It was delicious, thank you. I’m sorry.” I say quietly, cursing my honesty once I have finished.

Rob clears his throat, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him exchange a look with Jenny.

“That is quite alright, Ever. I’m impressed. You ate as much as the boys,” he chuckles, although the sound is strained, “When was the last time you ate?”

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