“Looks nice,” I say, trying to infuse a lighthearted tone into my voice.
Jon stands next to me, his eyes taking in the building.
James’s hand rests on my lower back. “It looks rather dim, doesn’t it?”
Jon grins at him. “I looked it up before I came. I knew what to expect.”
Surprise flows through me, my heart pinching at the fact that he so easily shared with James what he hasn’t shared with me.
We move inside, a melancholy grip squeezing my lungs. I don’t want to leave Jon here, if for no other reason than I’ll miss him. Family has always been the most important thing in my world, and now it feels as though I’m in the middle of a riptide, watching as everything gets washed away, and I’m left struggling against the current.
The air in the main office presses around me with every step, and it’s only when I feel James’s hand on my back that I straighten my spine, allowing him to infuse some of his confidence into my bones. I lean into him for the support.
There’s a woman sitting behind the front desk, her gray hair pulled into a tight bun, glasses pinned to her shirt with beaded straps.
“Hi,” I start. “I’m here to drop off my brother. He’s supposed to move in today.”
Her lips pinch as she takes me in, then moves her gaze to Jon, before finally resting on the man at my side. “Headmaster Dixon will be available shortly,” she says. “Until then you can sit down, I’ll let you know when he’s ready.”
“Okay, thank you.” I turn to go, but James’s strong grip at my back keeps me in place.
“I do apologize, Miss…” He leans in over the top of the desk.
The woman’s eyes grow round, her lips turning up in the corner. “Mrs. Henderson.”
“Right. Of course, you’re a Mrs.,” he purrs. “Pity.”
“Oh, now.” She glances down, her cheeks gaining a rosy hue, and amusement dances through my chest at the fact he seems to be flirting.
“I understand you and Headmaster Dixon must be extremely busy people,” he continues. “But we are rather in a hurry.”
My brows pull in. We are?
“You’d be doing me a great favor if you would let him know we’re ready now.”
Her grin drops, and it’s no surprise, because while he sounds nothing less than a gentleman, there’s an undercurrent of command in his tone, one that leaves no room for argument.
She nods slowly, reaching out and picking up the phone, before speaking a few words and hanging back up. “I’ll take you back.” She smiles.
“Wonderful.” James claps his hands together.
Jon and I share a look, and James’s palm comes back to rest on my lower back, propelling me into the hallway.
Headmaster Dixon is a short, stocky man who sticks out his chest, and smiles so wide you can see his wisdom teeth. He goes through the curriculum, and promises Jon will be in good hands, especially being Peter Michaels’s kid; who he reminds us no less than thirty times that he’s friends with. But for as much posturing as he exudes, he can’t command a room the way James does just by existing within it, and for every question that James asks, Headmaster Dixon’s voice grows tighter.
“Do you have any other questions before we say goodbye?” Dixon says. “I’ll have one of the head boys come down and show Jon to his room.”
My throat starts to close, not wanting to say goodbye, and I reach out, my fingers tangling with James’s.
He squeezes my palm in his, bringing our joined hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. My stomach flutters.
“You and Jon go wait in the lobby, yeah?” he says. “I’m going to have a quick word with the headmaster.”
My head cocks. “For what?”
“Darling.” He brushes my hair behind my ear. “I want to take care of you, and that extends to your brother. I’m simply ensuring we’re all on the same page.”
Warm, gooey gratitude drizzles through my insides. Because he’s here. Because he’s going to make sure Jon has what he needs. Because he cares. I rise on my tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”
He winks and spins me around, lightly pushing me into the hallway. I twist one last time to see him closing the door, the headmaster’s eyes widening the slightest bit.
“What do you think he’s doing in there?” Jon asks once we’re back in the front.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Business-y type stuff, I guess.”
Jon hums. “I like him.”
Smiling, I look over at him. “I like him too.”
“It’s okay, you know?” he says.
“What is?”
“To be sad that I’m gone.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes look to the ceiling, trying to stem the tears. I swear I’ve cried more in the past two days than I have since my mother’s death, and I’m sick of it. I hate feeling so weak.
“I am sad.” I smile at him. “But you’re not too far, and I’m only a phone call away.”
He nods. “I’ll miss you too.”
His arms wrap around me, and I close my eyes, the knot in my throat expanding until it burns.
“I love you, Wendy.”
The sting moves to rest behind my eyes, and my arms tighten around him. “I love you, too. I’m sorry Dad isn’t here.”
He pulls back, his jaw stiffening. “We don’t need him.”
James walks out of the hallway a few moments later, heading straight to Jon and handing him a piece of paper. “I’d like you to take this number and put it in your phone. If you ever need anything, you call me.”
My heart skips at his gesture.
The muscle in Jon’s jaw twitches, his nostrils flaring. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” James replies. His hand squeezes Jon’s shoulder as he bends down to speak in his ear.
I lean in close, straining to hear what he says.
“Just remember that whenever things feel bleak, all situations are temporary. It’s not your circumstance that determines your worth, it’s how you rise from the ashes after everything burns.”
24
James
I leave Wendy at her house with barely more than a goodbye, impatience snapping at my insides like a rubber band with every wasted second.
The trip to Rockford Prep took longer than anticipated, but I felt it important to let the Headmaster know what I expect of his staff when it comes to Jonathan Michaels. I’m not sure why I feel such a kinship with him. Maybe because he’s Wendy’s brother, and since she’s mine, by proxy he is as well. Or maybe it’s because I see so much of myself in him. I notice the way his muscles tense, defending against an offense he knows he can’t control.
In either case, I could tell from simply looking in Wendy’s eyes that today was a struggle. She would have been able to do it on her own of course, in the short time I’ve been with her, it’s easy to tell that while she’s docile and well-mannered around the majority of the world, she’s also strong willed and loyal to a fault. She loves her brother, and for some reason, that type of familial bond resonates, making me want to ensure her happiness when it comes to the people whom she loves.
It’s another thirty minutes before my tires are crunching on the gravel path leading to Cannibal’s Cave. The sun has barely set, bathing the landscape in a pinkish hue, not light enough to see clearly, yet not dark enough to be blind.
I draw close to our normal meeting spot, my chest squeezing at the realization that there are no other cars here. I’m running behind, but I’m not that late, and a shiver skates up my spine, my gut telling me to stay alert. I park the car, leaving it running as I take in my surroundings.
Emptiness.
The weight of my knife is heavy in my pocket, and I reach across the console, opening the glove box, retrieving my gloves and my H&P USP .40 pistol. Normally, I like to stick to my blades, preferring a more intimate touch, but my intuition has never steered me wrong, and it would be remiss of me to bring my knife to what could very well be a gun show.
I slip on my gloves, one finger at a time, and lean my head to the side, a deep crack reverberating down my spine. Stepping out of the car, I reach behind me, slipping my pistol in the waist of my pants before moving forward. I walk slowly, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the air. My ears are wide open, waiting to hear Ru’s boisterous laugh or maybe his cutting words. But it’s silent, nothing but the sound of cicadas in the trees, and the breeze as it rustles through the leaves. The sky darkens as the sun continues to slip beneath the horizon, making my vision skew as I walk toward the cave entrance. We normally meet just outside of it, but perhaps, for some reason, they moved things farther in.
My heart beats a slow and steady rhythm inside my chest, having learned how to control its tempo long ago, back when my uncle used to tell me how much it pleased him to feel it quicken under his hands.
Something is off.
It’s too quiet. My foot slips on something hard, and I pause, glancing down as I lift the sole of my shoe.
A glint of color catches my eye.