Page 6 of Infinitely Mine

“What’s your name?” I asked, needing to know more about this woman and her child.

“Jacob.”

“And your mama?”

“Rowen Casey.”

Casey? Where had I heard that name before?

“You’re going to be safe, Jacob. I’m here to make that happen.”

“I know,” he replied in a sing-song voice. “I saw you in my dreams.”

Wait. What?

“I drew a picture. It’s in my backpack.” He opened the back door and climbed inside the car, tugging a backpack with a bunch of cartoon superheroes scattered over the material.

I watched as he unzipped the pack and yanked out a handful of drawings. “Mama says I shouldn’t share these with strangers, but you’re not a stranger.”

I took the stack from him and scanned the artwork, crude but effective in conveying his thoughts. He was young. I had a feeling he would develop into a gifted artist. He had an eye for color, placement, and shadow.

But that wasn’t what caused my heart to beat faster or the longing I had denied for so long to suddenly grip me with a sharp, unrelenting hold. My breath stuttered in my chest. My mouth went dry. The Reaper groaned as he sensed this boy gave us a glimpse of the future we always secretly wished for.

There, on paper, I saw a family. One boy. A woman who wore dark braids and a beautiful smile. She had her arm around the boy as he held a puppy. And a dark, mysterious man wreathed in shadow created from a black crayon who towered over them in height. His arms stretched wide and seemed to protect them, providing shelter. His face, a skeletal mask, revealed the monster inside him.

A Reaper.

My jaw dropped before I closed it with a snap. I swallowed hard. “Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you, Little Man?”

“I’m six whole years.” Jacob’s chest puffed out as he lifted his chin, giving me a profile much like Superman.

I fucking liked this kid already.

“Wow. You’re almost grown.”

He beamed a grin.

“Has your mama seen this drawing yet?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. She was rushin’ around ’cause we had to leave fast in the dark.”

An instant prick of warning tickled the back of my neck. That wasn’t normal. Was she in trouble?

“I see,” I replied. I opened my mouth to ask another question when I heard his belly growl. “Have you eaten today?”

He nodded. “I had sixteen hundred skittles,” he answered as he ticked off the number on his fingers, “and a fruit snack. Oh, and the rest of the jerky, ’cause Mama doesn’t like it.”

Fuck. That wasn’t shit for food.

“You drinkin’ any water?”

“I had the last water bottle. Mama gave it to me.”

My chest constricted as I fought to breathe. How long had they been surviving on whatever she had in this car? Was she out of money? What the fuck happened to leave them stranded?

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