Page 115 of Between Now and Forever
A sound makes me jump. I stand alert in the bathroom doorway, listening closely for another sound. Again, it rings through the house. Harder this time.
Someone is knocking.
I glance at my watch.Who would be knocking at my door after midnight?
I move quietly through the living room and peer out the peephole.
What the hell?
My blood pressure screams as I yank the door open. “Dylan, what’s going on? Is everything all right?”
His hair is mussy, like he’s been sleeping. He has slumped shoulders, wrinkled clothes, and a frown that touches the ground on both sides. Despite it all, he lifts his chin and looks me in the eye.
“Can I come in, Jay?” he asks.
I step to the side and motion for him to enter. “Of course. What’s wrong?” The door closes with a snap.
I turn on a lamp by the couch. The air around us stills. The house is so quiet that it doesn’t quite feel real. But the kid in front of me, the one watching me with a silent plea, is as real as it gets.
“Are you okay?” I ask as smoothly as I can manage. “Are your mom and Carter okay? Just answer that for me, please.”
He nods. “Yeah. Everyone is fine. I guess.”
“You guess?”
He nods again.
You’re going to have to talk to me, kid.I scratch the top of my head and think.How do I get him to open up to me?“Does your mom know you’re here?”
“No. And I don’t want her to know.”
“Okay. But it’s late, Dylan. She will freak out if she can’t find you in the house. You know that, right?”
“She’s not going to know.”
“How are you so sure?”
He looks at the ground, and then back up at me. “Because she’s crying in her room.”
Oh, God.I grip the back of the couch and try to catch my breath.
“That’s why I’m here,” he says warily. “I don’t want to be here.”
I clear my throat. “Of course. But do you know why she’s crying? Is everything okay?”
He waits so long to answer me that I’m not sure he will reply. A myriad of emotions sweep across his features so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. The one thing I can glean is that Dylan is tired.
“Do you wanna sit down?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer but slides into the chair beside him. I sit on the couch, too, so that he doesn’t feel threatened by me standing.
“I’m assuming you came here to talk,” I say. “I’m listening.”
“Mom is sad, Jay.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gone.”
