Page 52 of Darkwater Lane

As for our day-to-day lives, we settle into a rhythm remarkably easily. Or at least Sam, Lanny and I do.

My job is easy. I work remotely most of the time anyway, and J.B. has no issue with me continuing to do so from here.

As for Sam, even though my boss offered him contract work with her firm, he decided to take on a few freelance construction jobs instead. He’d been doing that when I met him after he moved to Stillhouse Lake. For him, sitting all day behind a desk makes him antsy. He prefers being outside when he can.

In the past, the Belldenes had interfered with Sam’s ability to get work as part of a grudge against him. They’re essentially the hillbilly mafia, and while they carry a lot of influence in the town, so do Kez and Javier. Sam’s also a veteran, which goes a long waywith folks looking to hire someone they can trust to work inside their homes. Before long, he’s picked up several gigs. None of them are huge, but it’s enough to bring home good money.

We’re so close to the end of the school year that Lanny decides she’d rather study for her GED than enroll in the local school. Even though she knows several kids graduating from the local high school from when we lived here before, she isn’t interested in trying to rejoin her classmates.

I still haven’t confronted her about the college acceptance letters I found in her room. I’m worried about alienating her, especially with all the upheaval in our lives lately. The closest we’ve come to broaching the topic was when I told the kids we would be packing up the house in Knoxville to move everything to Stillhouse Lake.

Lanny was very insistent that she and Connor be allowed to return home to help pack. When I told her that wasn’t an option, she got upset, alternating between anger and tears. It took me longer than it should have to realize that she was worried about what I might find going through her room, i.e., the college acceptance letters.

The last thing I wanted to do at that point was try to have a conversation about college over the phone while we were still dealing with the police and trying to get out of town as quickly as possible. I hadn’t even raised the issue with Sam for the same reason.

I assured Lanny that I was planning to dump everything from her room into several large boxes without a second glance, and it would be up to her to sort through it on this end.

She’d known it was the best offer she was going to get and ultimately she’d accepted.

It’s Connor I’m most worried about given the turmoil over the last year. When I broach the subject of what he’d like to do forschool, he’s sitting on the couch reading a book. He shrugs. “I can take my classes here as well as I could in Knoxville. I don’t really see a difference.”

I’m surprised by how stoic he sounds. “I know. I’m just worried that you’d finally found a good groove and now you’re having to start over again. I hate that you have to deal with yet another disruption.”

Connor puts his finger in the book to hold his place and laughs. “Mom, you do realize I haven’t completed a single year in the same school since Dad was arrested, right? The first four years, we were packing up and moving every few months. Then we came here, and I got to finish spring semester and start again in the fall, then I homeschooled and then we moved to Knoxville. But of course after that was the shooting last fall, so I started homeschooling again.” He says it all in one breath, finishing with, “I’m used to the disruption.”

“You’re used to it, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

“I don’t know any better.” He shrugs. “We’ve always moved around.”

“You spent the first seven years of your life living in the same house,” I point out.

“I spent the first seven years of my life living with a serial killer,” he says dryly. “I’m not sure I would call that normal.”

“Good point.”

He smiles. There’s an unexpected lightness to him that I’m not accustomed to. I slide onto the sofa next to him and decide to put my cards on the table. “I worry about you.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.” There’s a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I worry you’re still hiding things from me.”

He considers that for a moment, which I appreciate. It means he’s taking my concern seriously.

“Iamhiding things from you, Mom,” he says bluntly.

My shoulders stiffen with alarm.

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing big. It’s just that I’m fifteen. I’m notsupposedto tell you everything.”

I don’t like how blasé he sounds, as if it’s fine that he’s been keeping things from me. “If it’s important, you are.”

“And who gets to decide what’s important?”

“If it’s something that affects your safety and well-being?—”

He draws in an exaggerated breath. “I know this, Mom. I know you can’t help it, and I know what happened last fall and me being in the hospital freaked you out. But do you know how exhausting it is to have someone worry about you all the time? I’m constantly aware that you’re watching my every move, trying to calculate my mood, and what I’m thinking, and how I’m feeling. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t have room to even breathe, much less figure out who I am or make mistakes without you finding out and pouncing all over them. You have to just let me be sometimes.”

I’m taken aback by his words. His tone isn’t mean or malicious. He’s simply stating a fact. I had no idea he felt this way. Sure, I’ve always known that both Connor and Lanny chafed under my protectiveness—or overprotectiveness as they may consider it—but I always assumed they understood and, therefore, accepted it.

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