My father buckled him carefully into the back seat while concentrating the way he always did during emergencies, and then he settled into the driver’s seat with the calm focus of a man who had already decided exactly what needed to happen next.
I knew where we were going the moment the car pulled away from the curb.
The drive to Colin’s parents’ house felt longer than it truly was because neither of us spoke and the quiet inside the car carried the weight of months that I had spent pretending everything was manageable.
My father drove through the streets of La Mesa with the steady control he used when responding to fires, and when we finally turned into the quiet residential lane where the two story beige house stood with neatly trimmed hedges and perfectly aligned flowerpots, my chest tightened.
“Stay here,” he said calmly as he parked.
I surprised both of us by shaking my head.
“If you are going in,” I replied slowly, “then I am coming too.”
He studied my face carefully and then nodded once.
Deborah opened the door before we could even knock because she always seemed to watch the street through the curtains.
Her expression froze when she saw us standing there.