Page 63 of Haunted

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just trying to control the urge to do something.”

“It’s not broken, Lance. It’s a very sensible set of options.”

I breathe out very slowly and count to ten. “Agree to disagree. But I won’t meddle. Unless you ask, which—” I look at him. “Please just ask. Anytime. Day or night.”

“If I see a reason to make some changes in that department, you’ll be the first person I contact. Anyway, I think I have some royalties on the card. They’ll pay the fees.”

“Dear God.”

“Lance?” His voice has a practiced warning tone to it.

“I’m back. Just—this is hard.”

“You’re doing great.” He rewards me with a light kiss on the forehead.

“I think we need to drag ourselves to the police station first.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “Do I have to ask you for that, too?”

“No. For this one, we’re in this together.”

“Are we?” He props himself up on his elbows and looks at me. “Together?”

My mouth goes dry. “You’re the boss,” I manage.

He sighs. “Not yet.”

“Sure.” My heart breaks a little, but this is ten times better than I thought I was going to get yesterday. I stand up and offer my hand. He regards it for a long few seconds before he takes it. I can feel his reluctance to accept the help, so I bend down and kiss it instead of pulling him out of bed. His smile is so bright it leaves spots on my retinas.

He dresses in clothes I’ve lent him, and I drive him to the Fairhaven Police Department, where we give our fingerprints and DNA samples, go over our preliminary statements, sign them, and hand over a copy of Alice’s email. By the time we’re done, it’s already evening and I realize that neither of us have had a bite to eat since early this morning. I slump over my steering wheel and I’m surprised when Jonny rubs my back. I turn my neck and smile at him.

“You know what I want right now?” I ask. “I want to take you to Waffle House and have so many carbs I’ll have to be rolled home.”

“Waffle House?” I can hear the surprise in his voice. “I haven’t been to one of those in fifteen years at least.”

I straighten, embarrassed. He’s been in India eating jasmine rice and drinking tea that smells like orange blossoms. I need to up my game here. He’s not the same as he was when he was a teenager.

“It sounds great,” he says.

I am glad it’s dark in my Jeep, because I don’t want him to see that I’m smiling so hard it hurts. “My treat,” I say.

A slight hesitation. “I’ll accept that, as long as I can do something nice for you later.”

“Anything you like.”

The Waffle House isn’t that crowded, but the only booths available are next to the window. My phone buzzes as I’m sitting down, and I shoot off a quick text.

“Everything okay?” Jonny says.

“My mother heard through the grapevine that I was at the police station and wants to know what the hell is going on. I just told her I was okay and had gone to Waffle House.”

“Small towns,” Jonny muses. “It’s amazing how fast news travels. Discovering that everybody knows everybody else, and they all know you—it’s awkward.”

“Like Krista.”

“Especially people like her. I feel like the fires just reset me. Ask me anything about India, though.”