Page 32 of Hushed

April’s in the doorway, looking apologetic. I give her a small smile.

“Levi, that grass,” Momma calls from the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It takes me three tries to make the lawnmower catch. I push it across the patchy grass, trying to focus on straight lines instead of Daddy’s analysis of where April and I were going.

Halfway through the front yard, the mower dies. Of course it does. I’m yanking the cord again when Tyler Hutchinson pulls up in a Ford that’s seen better days. Darlene’s nephew. The other gay in town. Oh, goody. And they’re matching us up together so I don’t turn feral. Because that’s how the gays are. Sex droughts make them dangerous predators. Jesus Christ.

He rolls down the driver’s side window. “Heard you were back,” he calls out, not bothering to get out of the truck. He’s wearing camo and a John Deere cap, like being gay in Peterboro means you have to try twice as hard to look straight. “Thought maybe you’d want to grab a beer at Shooters.”

I straighten up, wiping sweat from my forehead. “Thanks, but—”

Momma’s on the porch now, all smiles. “Tyler, how’s your momma? I heard she’s been poorly.”

“She’s doing better, Mrs. Nichols. Thank you for asking.”

“You two should go on and catch up.” She’s using her company voice, sweet as sugar. “Levi, that grass can wait. Go on and have some fun with your... friend.”

Tyler grins. “Come on, man. First round’s on me.”

I look between them—Tyler with his eager, desperate smile, Momma nodding encouragement like she’s sending me off to a birthday party. Something snaps.

“Momma, I’m not a child.” The words come out harder than intended. “I’ve seen combat. We got ambushed and I killed a man because he was shooting at my truck and there was nothing else to do about it. I don’t need you setting up playdates.”

The color drains from Momma’s face. Tyler’s truck engine idles in the sudden silence.

April is at the screen door. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there.

She lets it swing shut and I hear her go up the stairs.

“I should—I should go,” Tyler mutters, already shifting into reverse.

“Levi Knight, I did not raise you to be this rude.” She fists her hands onto her hips. “You’re not too old for me to take over your knee.”

“Yes, I fucking am!” I shout back.

“We have always done right by you! We took you into our home out of the goodness of our hearts. We did not cast you out when you told us you were...different than we expected.”

“Gay, Momma!” I don’t care if the neighbors will hear it. “The word is gay, and you fostered me in because you’re poor as hell and the State of Tennessee gave you money every month!”

There it is. The naked truth I couldn’t say when I was a teenager. I’m the foster child. Momma goes rigid in rage. “You spoiled, ungrateful—” Momma starts, but then from inside the house comes a crash, and the sound of my sister, screaming for help.

Chapter eleven

Bastien

The condo smells like cardboard.

I drop my keys in the bowl by the entryway, which is one of two things I have unpacked. I unlace my shoes and put them on the rack, which is the other. Everything else is still in the boxes it travelled in. Outside, a rumble of thunder rattles the windows.

There’s one email from Ronald. The subject line is CASE RESOLUTION.

Dear Dr. Saint-Jacques, Congratulations on the successful resolution of your matter. It has been a pleasure to represent you.

There’s a second one, eleven minutes later.

Dear Dr. Saint-Jacques, I apologize. The previous message was sent in error. Your case has not yet resolved. Our office will be in contact with any new developments.