WAKE (Wattpad edition)

47. Fine.

Soundtrack: 'Bandages' - Hey Rosetta

{Cary}

Cary and Jon waited silently on Tru's steps, out of smokes and out of things to say. Jon's knee jumped and he gripped his hands together so tightly that his knuckles were white. Cary leaned on the post, his arms crossed and his eyes on the lane curving through the bush. He could feel Tru in the house behind them, watching from the window. She'd given him such a glare when he'd told her Pete was coming that he'd thought her eyebrows might catch on fire.

When the van finally nosed around the corner and pulled into the yard with the crunch of gravel, Jon got to his feet, brushing his hand over the front of his shirt like there were still leaves from the garden stuck to him. Pete got out of the driver's seat, squinting in the sunlight. The thud of the door's slam made Cary's body flinch involuntarily and he set his jaw.

"Thanks for coming, Dad," Jon said. His back was straight, and he was using his Sunday morning voice, clear and polite.

Pete shifted his feet and moved his hands uncertainly, like he wasn't sure whether he should hug Jon or not. He opted to stay where he was, looking down at his son. "How are you, Jon?" he asked quietly.

"You need me to come home?" The question was light and Cary watched Pete from under his eyebrows. Had he noticed that Jon hadn't answered his question?

"Yes. We have buyers interested in our old house. We need to have a family conversation about whether we're moving back to Ontario or into a new home elsewhere. A safer neighborhood for you." Pete's voice was a little flat, listing the circumstances and the action needed. Robot-dad. Cary put his eyes on the sky over the barn, his stomach twisting.

"I'm sorry you lost your job." Jon's words only shook a little. "I feel like it's my fault."

Pete turned aside. "It is what it is," he said heavily. "Go on and get your things."

Jon turned and put his foot on the step, but Cary knew he didn't have any things—just the clothes on his back. He lifted his face to Cary, his lips trembling.

Cary's boots clattered down the steps. "Mr. White, can we talk?"

"I got your text," Pete said, without looking at him. "You're staying here for a bit?"

Cary led them away from the yard, walking quickly, leaning forward like there was a headwind. "Think so. Tru's family. I owe you more than thanks for keeping me like you did. I'm better for it."

Pete kept pace at his shoulder. "We were glad to help. Mel sends her love. She wants you to know you're welcome back—anytime."

They were far enough up the lane to be unheard. They were surrounded by trees standing straight and tall to the sky, holding up their dark evergreen branches. Cary didn't know how to ease into the subject, so he just chopped right to the point. "Jon's not good, Mr. White. You need to know that."

"He seems better," Pete said slowly. "He's much improved from when I visited him in treatment."

Cary stopped, planting his legs wide and digging his feet into the needle-covered dirt. "He puts that mask on for you." He was tall enough to look Pete straight in the eyes, and he crossed his arms tightly, holding Pete's serious gaze. "He says he's fine for you. He's not fine. He's not ready to go back."

Pete's eyes lifted over Cary's shoulder to check the step of Tru's house, some distance away now, and then returned to study Cary's face. "Say what you mean."

Cary picked his words carefully, the heat in his belly making it even harder than usual to come up with the right ones. "If he's going back to you, one of you has to be with him all the time. He's dark as hell. I been sleeping against the door in case he gets up to hurt himself again."