Page 51 of Only the Small Bones
He lifted the small notepad and pencil I hadn’t noticed him holding. He’d anticipated needing them, knew I’d try to talk him out of this. He scribbled across a fresh sheet, moving faster than he had just weeks ago. He passed it to me.
I want to stay there.
“Yeah, I can see that.” I tried not to sound bitter
about it. “Is this about what happened in the dining room? Did I do something wrong?”Something you can’t forgive?
He shook his head no, his gaze now tender, but his shoulders still set in determination.
“Give me a few minutes to change, then we can go.” I shut myself in my room, falling back against the door.This is a good thing. This will be good for him. We can still be… friends.All the convincing in the world couldn’t erase the fear swirling around in my gut. I should’ve wanted this for him. Ididwant it for him. I tried hard to.
I swapped my thermals for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then made a quick call to Safe Haven, alerting them of our impending arrival.
Ryan was already waiting by the front door, bag hanging from his shoulder, hand on the knob. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I grabbed my coat from the hall closet, and we left without another word.
I took my time getting to Safe Haven, telling myself I needed to drive carefully in the rain. A convenient excuse to hold on to him a little longer.
Safe Haven was a gated community tucked away from the city limits, surrounded by acres of untouched land. Land I owned. Beyond the multiple layers of security required to enter, stood the three-story community hall—constructed to resemble a home—down to the gabled roof and shuttered windows. It was warm and inviting, and matched the aesthetic of the residential housing behind it.
I pulled into a guest parking spot, threw the car in park and shifted to face Ryan. I’d been about to tell him he could change his mind at any time. That all he’d have to do was have someone from the staff call me and I’d be here in the blink of an eye. But he was already out of the car, opening his umbrella as he rounded the trunk with his things.
I led the way into the community hall, the heart and soul of the place, and the first stop for any visit to Safe Haven. Everyone had to register here, and the only way to gain access to the rest of the property was through the courtyard—only accessible from the hall.
Ryan took in the scope of the place, eyes darting around as I dropped both our wet umbrellas into the holder near the entrance. From the cozy sitting area across from the lit inglenook fireplace, to the quotes about survival, hope, and strength framed along the walls.
Up ahead, past the plush, twelve-piece circular couch—where many of the staff and residents often communed for game nights—Peggy stood from her desk, meeting us halfway.
“Mr. Mayes,” she greeted cheerfully, her Safe Haven nameplate pinned to her white shirt. “And you must be Ryan.” She turned to him, exuding the motherly warmth she was known and loved for. She didn’t take offense to his lack of response.
“This is Jackie,” she indicated over my shoulder. The petite, younger woman approached, saying hello to us all. “If it’s okay with you, Ryan, she’ll help you get registered in one of the offices in the back. She’ll answer any questions you may have, before showing you where you’ll be staying.”
Ryan gripped the strap of his bag, wringing it between his hands before nodding once. He avoided my gaze as he followed Jackie through a door.
“He’s non-verbal,” I told Peggy once we were alone. “He’ll need lots of paper and pencils.Pencilsnot pens. He’s still learning, and often needs to erase things to start over.” I glanced at the door Ryan disappeared through. “Are there pencils back there?”
“Yes, Mr. Mayes,” Peggy assured me. “I passed on your instructions to Jackie after our call earlier.”
“Okay, good,” I whispered, having already forgotten about the call. “He likes Eggos and bagels. Don’t make either too crispy. And caramel popcorn. And—”
“Judy Blume books,” she cut in, her smile warm and knowing. “We’ve got it from here, Mr. Mayes.” She stepped closer and laid a wrinkled hand on my back, ushering me toward the entrance. I whipped my head around, as though I’d expected to see Ryan flying through the door, begging me to take him back home.
“You know the drill, right?”
“No contact for the first seventy-two hours,” I muttered. There were certain exceptions to the rule. We’d never keep anyone from their family. But typically, family members weren’t tracked down that fast, and if they were, the survivors often went home with them instead of coming here.
The rule mostly applied to the authorities, who sometimes wanted to ask follow up questions. If the individual agreed, we allowed it. If not, we protected their right to decide. Therule also applied to me, who tended to be overly invested in the progress and recovery of the residents who stayed with me before transitioning here.
My check-ins became a sort of security blanket to them. So I understood. They needed to get used to their new environment. I guess this was how parents felt when dropping their kids off at school for the first time.
“He’ll be fine,” Peggy said softly, rubbing my shoulder.
I sighed. “Yeah, I know.” I wasn’t so sure about myself.
I returned to a quiet apartment. And not the type of quiet I’d grown used to, the kind where I was the only verbal occupant. It was the kind that whispered:“You’re alone.”
What did I do with myself now? I could already feel the voices waking up.
Kicking off my wet shoes, I headed for the one place—the one thing—that might help. I went to the library to check in with Gargantuan, texting Davidson with an update on my way there. He replied instantly.
