Run to Ground(62)

“That’s great, T.” A spark of pleasure lit in her chest. She’d dragged them away from privileged lives and dropped them into a small Colorado town. Except for the shooting—which was, granted, a fairly big “except for”—things had been going pretty well for them so far. There was potential for contentment. “How’s the teacher?”

“He’ll be good, I think. Although”—his mouth twisted a bit—“he’s also the wrestling coach.” He ducked as a balled-up sock flew at his head.

“Hey!” Ty complained, lobbing a second missile at his brother. “Just because someone’s athletic doesn’t mean he’s a dumbass.”

“Ty’s right,” Jules said, and then sent him a quelling look. “Although he could’ve picked a better way to express it. Keep an open mind, T, and I bet you’ll be happily surprised by your teacher.”

“And if he does suck,” Ty added, “we’ll have the entire wrestling season to get revenge.”

With a groan, Jules stood. It was too late to start a revenge-is-wrong discussion, especially since she felt like she’d been beaten by a very large, very heavy stick. She’d resume her attempt to drill morals into her brothers tomorrow. “No revenge,” she simply said, and that would have to do for the moment. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“We won’t.” The chorus was back again.

Leaning down, she kissed Ty’s forehead before he could wiggle away, and then walked over to give Tio a side hug. “So, you think you can be happy here?”

T’s return hug was quick but unbearably sweet, although it was Ty who answered. “We are happy here, JuJu.”

That warmed her heart as she headed for Sam’s room. Even though he would’ve heard the squeaks and thumps and occasional muttered curses as she climbed the narrow stairs, Jules knocked and waited for Sam’s invitation before she entered his room. Like Tio, he was sitting at his desk, although he didn’t look nearly as happy as T to be doing his homework.

“Hey, Sam-I-Am,” she said, crossing to flop down in the armchair next to him. “Oh, it’s so much cooler in here than it was. That fan is miraculous.”

“Yeah.” He glanced toward the window fan that had cost her skinned knuckles and two hours of frustration. “Th-thanks for th-that. It’s easier to sleep n-now.”

“Probably kills some of the noise from the twins below, too.”

Although he gave a half smile, he said, “I c-c-can’t hear m-much up here.”

“I’m jealous.” Jules studied him carefully. He was so guarded, it was hard to guess what he was thinking or feeling. “How was school?”

“Ok-kay.”

“Okay good or okay bad but you don’t want to worry me?”

That brought another crooked smile. “J-just ok-kay ok-k-kay.”

“Well, okay then.” She grinned back at him. “The other three seem to be adjusting well, although the Ts are up to something.”

“Wh-when are they n-n-not?”

“Good point.” Jules brought her feet up so she could sit cross-legged. “Are you going to be bored repeating sophomore year again?”

“N-no. The cl-cl-cl-cl…” He let out a frustrated breath. “Ev-veryth-thing’s d-different. And I g-get t-t-to learn t-to d-drive.”

“Makes up for a lot, doesn’t it?” Although she said it lightly, Sam gave her a direct look, his expression serious—even more so than usual.

“You d-don’t n-need to m-make up for anyth-thing, J-Ju.”

“I feel like I do,” she admitted. “I mean, I took y’all away from so much.”

He snorted. “Yeah. So m-m-much sh-shit.”

“Sam!” she protested, although she laughed. He just shrugged unapologetically.

They settled into a quiet moment, until Jules broke the silence.

“You’ll tell me if things are not okay, right? So we can figure out how to fix whatever’s wrong?”

Sam studied her for a moment before answering.

“Yeah, J-JuJu. I pr-promise.”

* * *

A few hours later, Jules started awake, her body jerking into instant awareness. She lay unmoving, trying to quiet her breathing so she could hear what had woken her. Everything was silent. Even the usual groans and squeaks of an elderly house were absent. Somehow, the absolute stillness was more unnerving than any sort of suspicious noise would be.

After a long minute of fruitless listening as her muscles grew tighter with each passing second, she slid out of bed and turned on her lamp. The bedside clock, an old-fashioned thrift-store find Jules had loved from the moment she’d spotted it, showed it was almost twelve thirty. Closing her eyes with a sigh, she accepted that waking up in three and a half hours was going to be rough.