Page 37 of Steadfast

“Where are the rest of the kids?”

“Ronan’s outside,” Cian replied slowly. “Saoirse and Aisling are upstairs.”

“Good. Sit.”

Our staring contest only lasted a moment.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” he asked roughly.

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

“Fuck,” he whispered painfully, his eyes still on mine.

“We drove by the wreck on our way home,” I said quietly. “The car was—” I shook my head. “There was a body bag, and the ambulance was just sitting there.”

“Maybe it wasn’t her,” he said quickly. “If the car was messed up, maybe it wasn’t hers.”

“It was.”

Richie’s hand wrapped gently around the back of my neck.

“How do you know?” Cian argued. “It might not be—”

“The bumper sticker,” I ground out. “The Irish flag one that Dad got her.”

I’d never forget the sight of that perfect bumper sticker on the back of her mangled-beyond-recognition car.

Cian just stood there. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

I looked at my brother with his messy hair and his blue eyes that were just like mine, the slight sunburn on his cheeks and the freckles that were barely visible across the bridge of his nose. When we were little I used to sit on him and point out those freckles while he struggled and bellowed at me.

They’d take him from me over my dead body.

“We’re leaving,” I said, straightening. “Right now. Tonight.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Richie asked in disbelief.

Cian just nodded. He was with me.

“I just bought all this fucking food,” I said with a scoff. “Grab a cooler out of the garage.”

“On it,” Cian said instantly, hurrying for the door.

“Aoife,” Richie said, leaning down a little to look in my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“We have an aunt in Oregon,” I replied, already headed toward my mom’s room. “If we go there, I’m sure she’ll let us stay for a while.”

“That’s nuts.”

“It’ll work.”

It only took a few minutes to find my little box of keepsakes that Mom kept on the top shelf of her closet. The bedroom was trashed and smelled like cigarette smoke and ass, but those keepsake boxes never moved. I thought about it for a second and then pulled down the other kids’ boxes, too.

“I’m pretty sure that’s considered kidnapping,” Richie said angrily, following me around the house. “You’ll be crossing state lines.”

I dropped the boxes on the kitchen table and searched through mine. I’d been adding birthday cards to all the boxes for the past couple of years, and the one from my aunt was right on top.

With a return address on the back of the envelope.

---