Page 44 of Second Story

Him reading my dedication next gets me right in the chest. “See you soon, Lenny!” Isaac says, bright and breezy, as if he didn’t hate me every single time he read those words when I was absent.

I turn to the next page for him, blind to words and pictures. I only see Lenny silently recite the promises an author wrote as if he knew me. “Some scars show on your surface.”

Lenny’s gaze drifts to me, and I nod. I also take over reading. “Others hide someplace deeper.” I’m not a born storyteller, like his brother, but I can say this firmly. “Scars aren’t a sign of weakness. Even heroes have them. If you want to meet some?—”

Lenny finishes for me, parroting the next line, his voice the strongest I’ve yet heard it.

“Turn the page and keep reading!”

I do, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be until Isaac finishes this storytelling session with a list of private hopes and wishes.

“Tomorrow’s cross on the calendar is a day less, not one more, Len. We got through today. We’ll get through tomorrow.”

“Together,” Lenny whispers.

Isaac leans over his little brother. “Here’s your kiss from Mum. She’s waiting in your dreams, even if you don’t remember in the morning. And I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” He crosses his heart, and once we’re downstairs, Ruth makes a promise of her own.

“If you two want to get back to the celebration, I’ll ring you right away if he doesn’t settle.” Laughter drifts downstairs to us, and she smiles. “I don’t think you’ll be hearing from me anytime soon.”

I can’t stay any longer.

I should go right now instead of watching Isaac rustle up tea for Ruth before we leave her with her feet up. Music meets us outside, the party still in full swing. In comparison, Isaac is quiet on the way back through the woods. Silent. He matches me stepfor step all the way to the car park, then stops between a willow and a van full of books I’m pretty sure I’ll see in my own dreams later.

This is where we first kissed a year after he first asked me.

It’s also where we did a whole lot more.

This evening, he doesn’t push aside branches or slide the van door open. He walks me to a car I wish I didn’t share, even if it did bring Josh and me back together.

He finally says, “You’ll be back to see Noah?”

I wish.

“Maybe.” Right now, it seems like a long shot. “I’ve done the court-ordered part of my job.” My laptop is already stowed, holding what I came for. “The rest is down to time. The wheels of justice?—”

“Turn slowly?” Isaac’s head drops like Lenny’s did when I said I was leaving. He’s easily as defeated. “Yeah, they really do.”

Of course he knows that. He needs to know this more. “You’re doing amazing.”

His head rises.

“You are, Isaac.” I can’t help but add my own wishful thinking. “If I knew anyone who could make those wheels turn faster for you, I’d ask them to make it happen.”

“I don’t think anyone can help. Not without new evidence. But thanks.”

Fuck knows why I keep my voice low. No one is going to throw acid at me for having the police-adjacent contacts that I mention. “I could ask my brother.”

“Because?” A penny drops, and he stiffens. “Wait. You told Noah that you weren’t on the force. Are you saying?—”

“That Josh is? Nope. I mean, tangentially, I suppose. He’s a consultant. An analyst.” I shrug. “I don’t speak his computer language, but he doesn’t seem to have much trouble nosing around in my court calendar. I can ask if he can tap into any newinfo about cases mentioning her name. Emma Webber, right? Find out ahead of your prison visit, maybe? Might set your mind at rest.”

He’s streaked with sudden brightness, lit by the headlights of a car leaving. It highlights surprise. “You’d do that?”

For him?

“Mate, I’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

Yes, I should have left already—should get in my shared car now instead of getting in Isaac’s space, but here I am, chest-to-chest in a way that is starting to feel habitual.

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