Tim’s face breaks into a smile. “Actually, Josh here did most of the work. I was just sort of watching.”
“And you helped me tighten that bolt.”
“That’s true. I did do that.”
Josh beams at Tim. “Now you can fix the doorknob upstairs that keeps falling off. And I’ll help.”
Tim’s smile falters. “Uh, well…”
I stand up from the couch. “Josh, Mr. Reese is too busy to fix everything in our house. And it’s getting late.”
Josh’s face falls. He looks like someone told him his dog just died. “Oh.”
“But I can come by tomorrow,” Tim adds. “I mean, if it’s okay with your mom.”
“It’s okay with me.” My eyes meet Tim’s. “If it’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me.”
Josh looks between the two of us, his face scrunched up. “So… are we fixing the doorknob?”
“Sure,” Tim says. “Tomorrow, okay?”
I send Josh off to get ready for bed while I walk Tim to the door. I honestly didn’t think I was going to see him again after the talk we had. But now it seems almost forgotten. Although I’m sure Tim hasn’t forgotten.
We pause as Tim steps outside. “Thanks for doing that,” I say.
“No problem.” He looks at me for a moment, contemplating what to say next. “You were right, Brooke.”
“I was? About what?”
“He is a good kid.”
With those words, Tim turns around and starts on the path back to his own house.
Chapter 23
ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER
I jerk awake. My eyes fly open, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. I am at Shane’s house, and he’s lying in bed beside me, still breathing deeply. But I heard something. A scream. I’m sure of it.
I look down at my watch. It’s three in the morning.
“Shane.” I shake his bare shoulder until his eyes crack open. “I heard something.”
“Huh?” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“There was a—”
And then we hear it again. A bloodcurdling scream, except this time I can clearly make out a word being screamed:
“Brooke!”
Shane sits up straight in bed, suddenly as wide awake as I feel. He throws his legs over the side of the bed, and he jumps into his pair of baggy blue jeans. He throws a T-shirt over his head, while I’m struggling with my skinny jeans. He is still in his socks when he reaches for the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” I ask anxiously.
His gaze darts down to the doorknob. “Somebody was screaming downstairs. I need to check it out.”
“Not without me.”
There is no way he is leaving me alone in this room. I button up my jeans and toss on my sweater.
“You should stay up here,” Shane says. “It might not be safe.”
“I want to come.”
Shane opens his mouth to protest again, but the words are drowned out by another scream:
“Brooke!”
We get out of the room and run into Kayla and Tim at the top of the stairs. They both look like they’ve thrown on their clothes as hastily as we did. I wonder what they’ve been doing in there. Hopefully, mostly sleeping.