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“Can we come in?” I asked. “I got somethin’ I need to tell you.”

Something in my tone must have caught her off guard, because her smile faded a little. It was replaced by that same sharp, protective look she’d worn the night before when she’d stood between me and West’s daddy with a knife in her hand. “‘Course you can, honey. Come on in.”

She stepped back and let us through into the kitchen, and I stood there a second, looking at her, at the flour on her arm and the tired lines around her eyes that she’d earned taking care of this whole town. And for taking care of me most of all. I felt my throat close up tight.

“Dolly,” I said, forcing the words out before I lost my nerve entirely. “I need to tell you somethin’, and I need you to let me get through all of it before you say anything. Can you do that for me?”

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Alright, sugar. I’m listenin’.”

I glanced at Westley, and he squeezed my hand once, a silent reminder that he was right there beside me. That I wasn’t doing this alone.

“I’m the one who’s been stealin’ from folks,” I said. “Been doin’ it for months. I took your heels, Dolly. Your Valentino bag too. I kept it all down in your root cellar, right under this very floor, and I let you feed me supper every single night while I was lyin’ to your face about it.”

Dolly’s face went through about three different things all at once. First shock, her mouth falling open a little, then something that looked almost like hurt, deep and quick, before she got it smoothed back down again. She didn’t say anything right away, just stood there with her hand pressed flat against her chest like she was trying to keep her own heart from climbing out.

“I already gave it all back,” I said quickly, before the silence could stretch out too long and swallow me whole. “Every bit of it. Went around all night and today puttin’ things back where they belonged. I didn’t keep a dime, Dolly, I swear to you. Your shoes are probably sittin’ right there on your coffee table already, and your bag too. I snuck them in this afternoon.”

She still hadn’t said a word. Her eyes were wet now, shining in the kitchen light, and I felt my own throat close up tighter than before.

“I know that don’t make it right,” I pushed on, because I’d started and I wasn’t going to let myself stop now, not with West’s hand still squeezing mine. “I know sayin’ sorry don’t undo it. You took me in when I didn’t have nobody else in this whole world. You fed me, you loved me like I was your own, and I paid you back by stealin’. I don’t got any excuse good enough to make that okay. I was scared and I was hurtin’ and I thought I needed money more than I needed to be honest with the people who actually cared about me. And I was wrong.”

Dolly let out a breath that shook on its way out, and she reached up to wipe at her eyes with the back of her wrist, smearing a little flour across her cheek in the process. “Rhett Levi,” she said, voice thick. “You mean to tell me all them months I was worryin’ myself sick, listenin’ to Marcus fret over that case, it was you the whole time? Right here under my own roof?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t make myself look away from her, even though every part of me wanted to drop my eyes to the floor and never look up again. “I’m so sorry, Dolly. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

She was quiet a long moment, studying me with that same sharp look she’d given West’s daddy, except now I understood it was aimed squarely at me. And it hurt worse than anything he’d said the night before. Then her shoulders dropped, and some of the fire went out of her eyes, replaced with something sadder and far more tired.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?” she asked, and her voice cracked clean down the middle. “Baby, I would’ve helped you. Whatever you needed, money, a way outta here, anything. All you had to do was ask.”

“I didn’t want to be one more thing you had to carry,” I said, the words tumbling out messy now that the dam had broken. “You already do so much for everybody in this town. I didn’t wanna be another burden you had to feed and clothe and worry over. I wanted to do somethin’ for myself for once, make my own way, and I just... I went about it all wrong. I know that now.”

She crossed the kitchen in three quick steps and pulled me into her arms before I even saw it coming, flour and all, holding onto me tight enough that it nearly knocked the air clean out of me. I stood there frozen for half a second before I broke, my whole body shaking as the sobs finally came loose, months of carrying all that shame finally spilling out of me right there against her shoulder.

“You ain’t a burden,” she said fierce into my hair. “You hear me? You ain’t never been a burden to me, not one single day since you were a baby boy toddlin’ around my kitchen floor. I don’t care what you did. I care that you’re standin’ here tellin’ me the truth now, and that you fixed it best you could.”

“I still gotta tell Marcus,” I managed, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I can’t let him keep chasin’ somethin’ that’s already done. It ain’t fair to him.”

Dolly pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands coming up to cup my face, flour and all. “You will,” she said. “And I’ll go with you, if you want me there. But right now, you’re gonna sit down at that counter and eat somethin’, because you look like you’re about to fall clean over, and I ain’t lettin’ either one of my boys go to bed hungry tonight. That ain’t who I am.”

A watery laugh broke out of me despite everything, and I wiped at my face with the back of my hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

She bustled off toward the walk-in cooler like she hadn’t just had her whole world cracked open. She came back with several containers, pulling out a cast-iron skillet and saucepan like it was just any other night. West guided me over to a stool at the counter, his hand never leaving my back, and I let myself sink onto it, feeling about as wrung out as a dishrag.

“I’m afraid the kitchen is closed down, so I can’t take orders tonight,” she said, already getting to work. “But I’ve got brisket and mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots leftover. I figure that’ll make a nice meal.” She glanced over her shoulder, flashing us both a smile like nothing had changed. “And there’s always pie.”

“That sounds real good,” I said, my voice still thick from crying. Dolly’s smile softened, like she’d been waiting to hear something ordinary come out of my mouth.

She set the skillet on the burner and got the brisket warming, moving around that kitchen with the same easy confidence she always had, like nothing had changed. But I could see it had. There was a tightness around her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a careful way she kept glancing over at me every few seconds, checking I was still sitting there, making sure I hadn’t bolted.

Westley pulled a stool up right next to mine and sat close enough that our knees touched, his hand resting warm on my thigh under the counter where Dolly couldn’t see, though I doubted she’d have minded one bit if she had.

“You doin’ okay?” he asked quiet, just for me.

“Gettin’ there,” I said, and found I meant it. My chest still ached, but it was a cleaner kind of hurt now, not that rotten, festering thing I’d been carrying around for months.

“Don’t worry about Marcus for now,” he said. “Let things settle for a bit first. We’ll get to it when you’re ready. Right now, I think we should just go on like nothin’ has changed. Let’s prove to him that you’ve turned over a new leaf, okay?”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”