And the last meal I had there was stale bread and water in a dirty prison cell.
To say that I’m hungry would be a severe understatement.
The walls of the hallway that leads into the main area of the house are covered with square frames. Each one holds a small screen in the center that plays a series of photos and videos in a constant loop.
I must not have noticed them when I first came in, too distracted by helping Zen. But now I pause long enough to watch one complete its full cycle, starting with a photo of a tiny infant wrapped in a blue blanket, transitioning to a video of a larger, pudgy baby taking wobbly steps across a carpet, then a little boy with bright red hair and a sprinkling of freckles on his face blowing emphatically toward two candles in a cake, and finally ending on a still picture of that same boy, dressed in a white collared shirt and navy-blue shorts, with a backpack on his shoulder.
“That was his first day of school last year,” Cody says as he comes up next to me. “We couldn’t put the video in the frame because the footage was too shaky. My wife was crying so hard.”
For a moment I’m speechless. I gawk openmouthed at Cody. “You’re a father?”
He beams back at me. The previous sinister version of him that stormed out of the guest room is suddenly nowhere to be found.
He nods. “He’s my whole world.”
Now it’s my turn to be completely rocked by the truth. Cody? A husband? And a father?
It’s too much.
When I look at him, I still see the moody, pimple-faced thirteen-year-old boy who got grounded for helping me sneak out of the house.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Reese.” I marvel at how bright his face becomes when he says this. It’s as though someone is lighting him up from the inside. “He’s five and I’m convinced he’s already smarter than I am.”
“Well, that’s not hard,” I joke.
Cody raises his eyebrows. “Hey, look who mastered sarcasm.”
“You remember.”
“I remember everything about you.” I watch his face color with that familiar shade of red as he looks away. I’m happy to see some parts of him haven’t changed. “I guess I had a pretty bad crush on you.”
“Crush?” I ask.
He still refuses to meet my eye. “I liked you. A lot.” He lets out a small snort. “Don’t tell my wife.”
I glance back at the frame, taking in the boy’s round blue eyes and freckled face. “He looks like you.”
“Well, let’s just hope when he gets to be thirteen he’ll start looking more like his mother.”
I let out a laugh that feels like it’s been trapped in me for years. “I remember your mom telling me you were at an awkward age when we first met.”
“My mother had a way of downplaying the truth. I was a complete nerd.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
He brushes a chunk of dark blond hair from his forehead. “It’s something you never have to worry about being.” He falls quiet.
“Look,” he says after a moment, his voice turning somber. “I want to say thank you.”
This surprises me. “For what?”
“For trusting me with … well, everything. I know it took a lot of courage to show me those things. I’m sorry I walked out. It was…”—he pauses, struggling for the words—“it was a lot to process. I’m still trying to sort through it all. You know, make sense of it.”
“I know,” I say softly.
I feel something warm against my hand and when I look down I see Cody has wrapped his fingers around mine. “We’ll figure out what’s wrong with him,” he vows.
Gratefulness wells up inside me, threatening to overflow from my eyes. “Thanks,” I whisper.
He gives my hand a tug. “C’mon,” he says, his entire demeanor shifting, lightening. “I want you to meet my family.”
I’m not sure what Cody has told his wife about the strange teenage girl in his house—if he’s even had a chance to tell her anything. I wince when I step into the kitchen and see a petite and slender attractive woman with long red hair pouring a burgundy liquid from a bottle into two stemmed glasses. I guess after the way Mrs. Pattinson acted about having me in her home, I’ve come to expect the worst when meeting new people.
But it quickly becomes apparent that Cody’s wife is nothing like Mrs. Pattinson because when she looks up at me, she has a beaming smile on her face. She wipes her hands quickly on a towel that hangs from the oven and flitters over to me.
“Seraphina,” she says brightly. “It’s so lovely to meet you!”