Page 27 of Unraveling Charlotte

Same, kiddo, same.

“Milo, what were you doing on the counter?” I ask, but the answer is obvious. There is cereal all over the floor.

“I got it.” Tate steps toward the mudroom and the broom hanging there.

“Well, you didn’t sleep last night, and I didn’t want to bother you,” Milo says in a knowing tone well beyond his eight years.

Uncaring of the Crunch Berries, I walk over to Milo and sink down to the floor. “Hey, don’t ever worry about me, okay? If you need something, ask. I’ll always be there to get it for you.”

Milo rolls his eyes at me. “Lottie, I will worry about you as much as you worry about me.” He peers behind me at Agent Hayes. “Is he the reason you didn’t come home until this morning?”

My mouth parts, and I peer over my shoulder at a laughing FBI agent. He quickly turns away, busying himself as he looks through my cabinets.

I refuse to lie to Milo. It’s a promise I made to myself long ago. “In part, yes.” I look back at Milo and his little face. His hair is wild and sticking up all over his head. He’s wearing his favorite khaki pants and a white button-down. He looks so damn handsome, it makes my eyes burn, especially because he looks just like our dad.

“All right, Milo is it?” Hayes sets a bowl before him and the box of Crunch Berries, or what’s left. “Crunch Berries?”

“Yes, please,” he says before turning to me. “We are out of Lucky Charms.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for trying something different today, but next time you need to climb the counters, alert me so I can make sure you climb with a spotter.” I stand and step over the mess.

Tatum walks in and hands me the broom. “I have to go.” She waves her phone in my face before kissing me on the cheek. “Seven tomorrow night.” She leaves, not once looking back. My eyes, however, burn a hole through her shoulder blades as I watch her slide her feet into her shoes and take off in her jammies. I’d say it’s out of the norm for her, but it really isn’t.

“Why don’t you doctor your coffee? I’ve got this,” Hayes says, drawing me back to the present.

As though on autopilot or just exhaustion, I grab the creamer from the fridge and watch the agent clean up the spilled cereal.

“Who are you?” Milo asks as he takes a bite of his cereal. I didn’t even see Hayes pour milk into his bowl, but the empty container sits on the table in front of him.

Holding his hand out for Milo to shake, he introduces himself. “Matthew Hayes.”

“Special Agent Matthew Hayes,” I correct, because, well… I don’t know why I say it, because I don’t know how to tell Milo about Sal, but now, I have to tell him something. “He’s investigating down at the diner.”

Milo shakes his hand before going back to his cereal. “Is my sister under arrest?” Milo asks, his tone flat.

I didn’t even think about what this would look like to Milo—an FBI agent in our kitchen who I just said is investigating the diner.

“No, nothing like that.” Hayes looks at me with a question in his gaze. I’m not about to explain my life story to a stranger. “I’m here to keep her safe.”

“My sister has Tatum. Did you not meet her?” Milo blurts out. “She’s scary and barely an adult.”

“I saw her, yes,” Hayes replies slowly, his Southern accent deepening. “Red hair, wild eyes, holding a bat.”

Milo just nods. “That’s the one.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “You should fear her.”

I just stand in the corner, sipping my coffee, wondering if this is real life. “Eat up. You have ten minutes, then we need to go.”

“Don’t forget science club meets today.” Milo grabs his bowl and places it in the sink. “Today, we are doing an experiment on raisins.”

“Raisins?”Agent Hayes mouths to me.

“What time do I need to pick you up?” I follow Milo out of the kitchen and into the breezeway, where our shoes are.

“Four-thirty sharp. Don’t be late.” He grabs his shoes and rounds on me. “Mr. Eisen hates it when you are late.”

The stuffy old science teacher is a stickler for time. I’m always on time. He just doesn’t like anyone going past that designated time. He says four-thirty, but what he really means is he wants everyone gone by then and not a minute after. “Got it.”

“I already set a timer on your phone,” he says, putting his shoes on. “It’s on the charger by the TV. There was jam on it.”

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