The farmhouse. The place where it all happened. The massacre.
“How could you want to live there?” I say. “After everything that happened…”
His eyebrows inch upward. “That was my home for eighteen years, Brooke. And honestly, it’s not like I have a lot of options.”
“You can stay here as long as you want.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t be.”
He looks down at the plate in front of him, stained with pizza grease. “I appreciate your generosity, but this is not my home. I need my own place. You get that, right?”
I get it, but I don’t like it. That farmhouse only appears in my nightmares these days. I can’t imagine how he could possibly want to live there. The thought of going anywhere near it makes me physically ill.
“If that’s what you want,” I finally say.
Just don’t ask me to visit.
We get everything cleaned up from dinner, and I go upstairs with Shane to collect some bedding for the guest bedroom. I grab him an extra blanket too, because it’s started snowing, and the room seems a bit chilly. He insists he can make his own bed, so I’ll leave him to it while I say good night to Josh.
Josh is done with his homework and is quietly reading in bed. He puts down his book when he sees me walk in.
“I brushed my teeth,” he tells me.
I settle down on the edge of his bed. For the first five years of Josh’s life, the two of us shared a bed out of necessity. （It was excellent for my love life.） And now the kid has his own room. “Good job. All the homework is done?”
“Yep.” He hesitates. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Why is that guy Shane staying with us?”
“He’s an old friend.” The lie is getting easier and easier. “He’s just going to be staying a few nights. Why?”
Josh shrugs his skinny shoulders. “No reason.”
“Don’t you like him?”
He hesitates, and my stomach sinks. Josh likes everyone. Although I thought it was possible he and Shane might not be the best of friends immediately, it never even slightly occurred to me that Josh wouldn’t like him.
“He’s okay,” Josh says carefully.
“Was he mean to you?”
“No.”
“Is there something you don’t like about him?”
“No…” But again, there’s that hesitation. There’s something he’s not telling me, and it makes me crazy that I can’t get it out of him.
I don’t know what Shane could have done wrong though. I have had my eyes on them practically the entire time since Josh has been home. Shane has been great with him, considering he has zero experience with kids. I mean, Tim was a teacher. That was what he did for a living. Obviously, he was better at making friends with a ten-year-old boy than a guy who spent the last ten years of his life in prison.
“How long is he staying?” Josh asks.
“Like I said, not that long. Maybe a few nights.”
Is it my imagination, or does Josh look relieved?
I don’t know what Josh has against Shane, but I’m not going to let on to Shane about any of this. He would be completely crushed. I have to pretend Josh thought he was great.
When I get into the guest bedroom, Shane has just finished putting the new sheets on the bed. He’s shaking out the blanket, but he lays it down when he sees me. “Hey,” he says.