Page 58 of Finally Found You

Chapter Thirty-One

Lysander

It’s been more than forty-eight hours since we left the comfort of our homes, though, to my surprise, the entire family, except for Heath and Atzi, ends up in Oregon.

“This isn’t hiding, is it?” I say, lounging on the plush couch of Caspian’s living room.

We’re all staying in Lake Oswego, including Cory, who chose to leave the safety of France behind to be with us. This kid is hell-bent on giving me a heart attack.

“What were you expecting?” Cas retorts, swiping Gatsby’s shoes off the coffee table with a huff. “Holed up in some bunker beneath the Pentagon?”

“Does the Pentagon have bunkers?” I muse aloud, my gaze transfixed on my phone. Kenzy’s been texting me all morning about the camp. She’s not sure if she wants to stay there.

Is quitting even an option? I never considered it. I used to tell my siblings what to do, and if they didn’t want to, we’d fight. Still, they had to do as we said—no questions asked.

But in all fairness, that didn’t happen often. We did it when Hux tried to go on a road trip at sixteen—by himself. He was too young. Then there was Caspian, adamant about being shipped off to a Canadian boarding school, convinced it was the only way he could end up playing professional hockey.

And we can’t forget Cory wanting to move to New York City, arguing that San Fran was suffocating her creativity. We all knew she only wanted to go there to be with Benedict.

But this… this situation with Kenzy feels different. A distinct knot of uncertainty forms in my stomach. I could use some guidance on this, and Camilla would be the perfect person to turn to, but that’s not an option.

Lifting my gaze from the screen, I scan the room before voicing my concern. “If Heath had asked us to take him out of camp, would we have complied?”

“Grief camp?” Gatsby asks.

“Probably not. We were trying to get rid of him,” Caspian quips, his laughter echoing around the room in response to his terrible joke. “Kidding. Is Kenzy asking you to pick her up?”

“She’s not sure if she wants to stay there,” I mutter, my fingers hovering over the screen, unsure of what to type in response.

“She could always spend some time with Ralph and Mia instead. They’d offer more comfort than the camp,” Caspian says.

I shoot him a glare. He’s adamant about his dogs being therapeutic companions. They are certainly not therapy dogs.

“Kenzy needs a professional therapist,” Gatsby says, locking eyes with Caspian. “We love your puppies, but they’re—”

“I dare you to finish that phrase,” Cas retorts, his gaze hardening into icy shards.

In response, Gatsby simply raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Just then, Fern enters the living room. “The camp was helpful for Heath. I can’t understand why you’d consider pulling her out.”

“Heath didn’t grieve,” I remind her. “He found Atzi, his lifeline, and the love of his life. I’m not ready for my fifteen-year-old to embark on that journey yet.”

“Heath was thirteen,” Gatsby reminds me, shaking his head. “You should talk to her, maybe even the camp counselors. Once you’ve figured out what’s gnawing at her, you can make an informed decision.”

“He’s right,” Fern says. “You should talk to her.”

So I do. I dial her number, my pulse quickening as the ringing hums in my ear.

“Are you going to pick me up?” are the first words out of Kenzy’s mouth.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s happening, sweetheart?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You sent me to a place where everyone is sad, and the therapists want us to talk about feelings all the time.”

“Can you tell me why that’s bad?” I question, my heart twinging at her words.

“Balsamos don’t cry,” she retorts defiantly. “That’s for weak people. Nonna always said we weren’t allowed to cry.”

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