Page 82 of The Evening Wolves

“How’s your head?”

Another shrug, one-shouldered.

Emery sat and brushed back some of that ridiculous hair. “Does it still hurt?”

Colt shook out a no.

“How about your ribs?”

“I’m fine, Pops. Jem, tell him.”

But it was Tean who answered. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him. No physical exertion. Lots of rest. He and Jem are in a nap competition.”

“Not to brag,” Jem said, “but I’m winning.”

“It doesn’t count if you eat an extra plate of nachos,” Colt mumbled, obviously fighting for normalcy. “I would have passed out too if I ate that many.”

Tean smiled. “Also, if I have to watch them play War one more time, I’m going to lose my mind, so I’m putting in an official request for no more card games.”

“You put in an official request for no more shows about megalodons,” Jem protested. “You can’t put in an official request about everything.”

“I can and I will.”

Colt was smiling again, his attention turned to the two men, and Emery studied his face in profile. And then he asked, “How’s Ashley?”

It was like snuffing a candle, Colt’s expression dark again, his face turned down once more. Tean’s expression grew tight. Jem made a noise that suggested Emery had stepped in it.

“Did something happen?”

Colt shook his head. Then, in that same tone of forced evenness, “I guess his parents took away his phone because, um, he’s not responding to any of my texts.”

Emery brushed his hair away from his forehead again. Colt’s amber eyes came up, wet and wide, and then he pulled back from Emery’s touch. His shoulders curled in, and he pushed the slice of pizza around on his plate. A distant part of Emery thought, It’s happening again. Because he knew what it felt like, to sit at home, alone, hurt, and to tell yourself lies and hope they were true.

“I was thinking,” he said, “maybe it would be a good idea if you went on that service trip.”

Colt’s head snapped up. “For real?”

“You’ve worked hard to help them organize it. You’ve put in a lot of hours. You loaded the truck. It would look good on a college application.”

“Ash and I did almost all of it ourselves,” Colt said. “The girls didn’t help at all. Well, except Trish, but she’s way stronger than me or Ash. Pops, are you serious? That would be so dope.”

“Don’t say dope. And yes, I’m serious.” Emery held up a hand to forestall Colt. “But I don’t want you doing any of the manual labor, not while you’re hurt. You’re going to have to tell Koby you can help with anything else, but not the heavy stuff.”

“I’m fine—”

Emery cut him off. “Promise.”

“Pops!”

“Promise me.”

The outrage in Colt’s face threatened to make Emery smile, and he only barely managed to tamp it down. Finally, Colt said, “Fine! But that’s the whole reason they need me! Koby’s going to be so bummed.”

“Koby is an adult, and I’m sure he’ll understand that preventing you from injuring yourself further—and, as a result, being on the receiving end of a lawsuit from your overprotective father—is worth some small inconvenience. Also, I’m worried about you, and it’s easier for me to let you go if I know that you’re going to take practical measures to keep yourself safe.”

Colt considered him for a moment. “You’re kind of a bully, you know. Not just threatening to beat people up, but the emotional stuff.”

“I had a very good teacher. Next time my mother ‘needs help with some boxes’—” He drew the air quotes with his fingers. “—watch and learn.”

---