Page 139

He remembered that of all things. The lock.

“For how long?”

“However long you want.”

“And if I want to leave?”

“Then you leave. I drive you wherever you want to go.”

“I can’t pay you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have a bus ticket. For the twenty-second.”

“Change it to another day.” He stops. “Or don’t. It’s your ticket.”

It’s your ticket.

I consider it. All of it. His house. His mother, who said of course. His father, who doesn’t have to like it, and probably won’t. A room with a lock, across the hall from him. Christmas morning in a house with a gate. Owing him something I can’t pay back, again, after a ride and a rescue and a tape gun. Waking up in his world for three weeks, eating his family’s food, sleeping under his family’s roof. What if his father hates that I’m there? What if Rafe wakes up and remembers why he’s always hated me? What if I can’t leave because I’ll be somewhere with nobody to call?

And on the other side of that is Grandma’s house.

A bus pulling into a station at four o’clock on the twenty-second. My mother knowing exactly when. Dylan knowing exactly where my money is. A couch to sleep on in the middle of a living room where everybody walks past. A sewing room with a dress form where my bed used to be.

“I need to think about it,” I say.

“Okay.” He turns around and goes to the door.

I watch him go.

I watch him put his hand on the knob. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t say let me know. He doesn’t tell me I have until tomorrow. He doesn’t stand there waiting for me to cave. He just opens it.

He’s leaving.

He’s actually leaving.

“Rafe.”

He turns around in the doorway, with one hand still on the knob and the hallway behind him.

My mouth is open, but nothing comes out for a second. I stare at his face, wishing I could see the future. I want to know what’s on the other side of both options.

“I want to,” I say, breathless. “But—”

He waits, and I hate that I notice his eyes reading me. I stare back, not wanting to finish my sentence.

“You can leave whenever you want,” he says. “And you don’t owe me anything.”

“Just like that?” I ask, but I’m not talking about the situation.

“Yes,” he says easily.

“Okay,” I say.

He waits.

“Okay what?”