59

A week later

“WHEN IS SHE COMING BACK?” IT WAS THE SAME QUESTION

Michael asked him every night.

Logan set the beers down on the hall table out-side Michael’s bedroom door. His son shouldn’t see him drinking.

He shouldn’t be drinking.

But it made thoughts of her so much easier to take. No. Not easier. Less difficult. Bearable.

Almost.

“I don’t know when, Michael.” That was the same answer Logan gave him every night. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael slouched further under his covers, the stuffed raccoon falling on his head from atop the pillow. “I dunno.”

Which meant yes in kid-speak.

Logan pushed the door open and walked over to Michael’s bed, nudging his son’s legs over so he could sit. “I’m sure she’s fine, Michael.”

“Do you think Ceto put her in a cage like Joey?” “Joey was in a cage?”

Michael had told him about the friend he’d met there, this Joey, but this was the first he’d heard about any cage. It made him shudder to think of what he and Michael had narrowly e