“Yeah, but maybe he has a dog.”
“Dogs don’t open doors.”
“Fair.” She looped her arm through his and pulled him close. “Are you okay? I know you’re worried about your mom, but you’ve been funny lately.”
“I’m good.”
“Hm. Well, let’s make sure your mom’s not dating some freak, and then we can relax and hang out.”
He rolled his eyes and said, “They’re not dating,” but Josephine’s worry for him made his heart feel so warm and soft that he had a momentary, blinding thought that maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe he liked boys and girls. Maybe he even wanted Josie to be his girlfriend?
But no. That wasn’t quite right. He didn’t feel nervous or shimmery around her like he did with boys he had a crush on. He didn’t stare at her mouth, wondering about his first kiss and what it might be like. With Josephine’s arm looped through his and her side pressed against his elbow, he just felt . . . safe. Like he had more family now.
He loved her, he thought. He loved Josephine like she was his sister or his best friend, and when he was with her, he didn’t miss Mikey and his stupid video games at all. Maybe he could even tell her about his dad someday. It would be such a relief. But not now. Not until everything was safe.
A few minutes later, he was definitely feeling nervous and shimmery, but that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with walking toward the nursing home. He’d come up with a cover story to find out if Alex Bennick was here, but he was still prepared for a stern nurse to glare at him and accuse him of lying.
Josephine let go of his arm, and he walked on shaky legs past the sign that promised SENIOR LIVING in green cursive letters. When the front door swung open automatically, he was looking straight at a receptionist seated behind a short, curved wall about ten feet away. She sat still as if she’d been waiting for them, her red hair heavy and straight and just brushing her shoulders. He thought he saw the tiny edge of a tattoo peeking up beneath the collar of her shirt.
Everett met her eyes and kept moving, wishing he were still holding Josephine’s arm.
“Hello there!” the woman chirped. “How can I help you?” At least she wasn’t a mean nurse in a white uniform.
“Hi,” Everett said, then stammered it out again. “H-hi. I’d like to drop off a card for one of your patients?”
“Oh, how nice! That’s so sweet of you. Who are you looking for?” Here was the moment of truth.
“Alex Bennick?” he ventured, waiting for her to frown and shake her head and prove that his hunch was correct.
But she didn’t frown. She smiled wide and gestured toward a row of windows. “You’re in luck! Mr. Bennick is out in the courtyard right now! I just talked to him, in fact. And that’s such a nice place to have a visit. You don’t have to just drop it off; you can go right on in and see him.” She slid a clipboard toward him. “Just sign the log.”
Alex Bennick was here. He was really in this home, and that other guy wasn’t lying to his mom. Relief made his guts shiver like he was getting sick.
He picked up the pen. Josephine poked him in the back. Hard. He couldn’t look at her. He was too busy trying to control the tremble in his hand as he put down the fake name he’d already come up with. John Olson.
“Just through those double doors on the other side of the lounge!” the red-haired woman said as if she were biting back an Aw! at their adorableness. It was a welcome response, and he’d take it. He and Josephine probably were pretty adorable.
After a few steps in that direction, Josephine threw her arm over his shoulders to slow him down. “What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely.
“I’m going to see him.”
“Everett, this isn’t okay. You promised no more dangerous ideas.”
“This isn’t dangerous. I’m just going to talk to him in a public place. He’s an old man.”
She growled and let go of him. He heard her muttering behind him as he pushed through the double doors and then turned right out the glass door to the interior courtyard. Josephine didn’t follow.
He had only planned on proving whether Alex Bennick was here. But now that he knew he was so close, Everett couldn’t stop himself. He wanted answers. He wanted answers to something in his life.
He stepped out into birdsong and shade and let his eyes adjust for a moment before he recognized Alex Bennick’s round cheeks and balding head. Mr. Bennick sat alone at a table toward the left side of the garden. A few women sat chatting together toward the back, but otherwise it was quiet. Maybe no one wanted to sit with him because he was creepy and awful.