chapter ten

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

I don't turn around. "Waiting."

"For?"

"For Greyson. Steven said I could go over when they get home," I say. I stole a chair from the island downstairs and set it facing my open window. From my spot, I have a full view of the Scott's driveway, their front lawn, and their backyard.

My uncle drops a hand on my shoulder. He's dressed in his blue work shirt and the St. Hughes Memorial patchwork over his chest has faded from years of wear. Pat's expression is concerned. It's the face he pulls out when I go through weeks of nightmares, or when I stay in bed all day on a Saturday without being able to give him a reason.

"I'm fine," I say swiftly, patting his wrinkled hand a little and returning to my stakeout.

It's been two hours, thus it's close to five o'clock in the evening now. The sky has been tinged in orange and pink and the breeze through my open window is blowing the crisp notes of evergreen and soil into my room. It's still a little chilly, but I might just fall asleep if the wind wasn't biting at my cheeks.

I turn in my chair. "Do you remember the night with the sleds?"

Pat's face pinches. That's a yes.

It was the last time I saw Greyson. I had been at the Scott's place with him one evening in January and we were talking with his dad about buying new snow sleds. 

Steven had been conversing with his neighbours, Susan and Dan, a few blocks away who's final child had gone off to college the previous fall. They no longer had a use for the three toboggans in their garage.

An arrangement was made for me to shovel their driveway for a few weeks to buy the sleds from them. 

Pat clears his throat behind me. "What about that night?"

I just shake my head, staring a thousand miles out my open window. "Sometimes I think about it, that's all."

That brisk winter evening, Grey and I scarfed down our dinner at the Scott's table. We were beyond excited. We'd found a hill about ten minutes from our houses that was perfect for sledding.

We started trekking as the sun was disappearing under the city skyline...

Pat plops on the edge of my bed, which I made about an hour ago out of boredom. He keeps his eyes down, and folds his hands in his lap. I watch from across my room as contemplation floods in and out of his wrinkled grey eyes.

"I'm worried," he begins. "For you. And that his return is going to impact your future. You look exhausted and you've been—"

"I'm fine," I repeat. "The last few nights have just been...weird. He's back. He's actually home. What else could I be possibly thinking about right now?"

Pat's bushy brows furrow. "You have a whole future to think about. Graduation, school in a different city, meeting new people, career opportunities...I just want you to remember that there's more."

My jaw tenses. "So, you're saying Greyson is going to prevent all those things for me."

Pat angles his head at my tone. "No. Of course not. But—"

"Greyson's back. It's what I've been hoping would happen for years. And you have too. Can you just let me wait here for him?"

Pat eyes the ground, working my words around. Eventually, he says, "Did you end up talking to Serena?"

"No. But I spoke to Steven, and by the sounds of it, his wife still hates me."

"I'm sure that's not true." Even Pat can't muster the strength in the words. We both know she blames me for Greyson's disappearance. Abduction, my mind corrects. It was an abduction.

"It doesn't matter because I don't care," I tell Pat, forcing my spine straight as I sit twisted in the chair facing my window. "I just care about Greyson. And she can't stop me from seeing him."

"She can," Pat insists, keeping his voice low, careful, like I'm some untamed beast. "I recommend being as soft spoken as possible when you talk to her. It's her house, Ember. And it's her son."

I turn back to the window and let the cool breeze play with loose tendrils of my hair. What Pat doesn't understand is that I'll never let anyone come between Grey and me again. Not his parents, not Cade, not Pat, not school or homework or life. Never again.

Pat sighs and heaves himself upwards, groaning. He places a hand to his lower back and rubs a spot over his blue janitorial shirt.

"What's wrong?" I prompt, my stomach twisting.

"Oh, it's nothing, sweetheart. Just a bit of old man pain." He waves me off. "It's time for me to get going. I'll be back around five in the morning." My uncle, hunched at the waist, nods and makes his way to my open doorway.

"Uncle Pat?"

He turns around. "Hm?"

"I, uh, I saw a custodial management posting at St. Hughes. I know you like nights and all, but I just thought I'd mention it."

Pat exhales a dejected breath. "Ember, you know I don't have the education—"

"Why does it matter? I read the post. It never said anything about having a degree or—"

"It never does," Pat interjects. "But the person they hire will have a bachelor's degree in some kind of business management field. They always do."

I set my jaw. "You have more experience than all of them."

Pat sees my anger, and offers a soothing half-grin. "I'm content. That's all I can ask for."

"Is that what you'd tell me?" I press. "To aim for content and not happy?"

My uncle raises his brows in warning. "It's too late for me, Ember. You have everything ahead of you. Of course I want you to aim higher. I want you to have everything you want in life."

"Raveena would want you to apply," I say, pulling a card that might work.

He scoffs a laugh. "Yes, Veena told me about the post before it even went up. I've known for weeks."

"Maybe you should apply just in case and then—"

"I am content," he repeats. "I will not apply to be rejected."

"What a great attitude," I remark, turning my back to him and crossing my arms like a petulant child.

He doesn't say anything else. After a few moments, my door closes. His steps echo softly down our creaky wooden stairs.

I sigh, returning to my post. The Scotts have been gone for hours. It's getting close to dinner and my stomach is making it known.

After a few minutes, Pat's silver car stirs to life in our driveway and putters down the street on the way to St. Hughes.

Watching his car has memories flooding the forefront of my mind. It's that last night with Greyson. That damned night.

After heading out the door in the cold as the sun began to set, we'd shuffled our heels in the direction of Dan and Susan's house, chatting and bumping shoulders. Grey was sniffling, swiping at his red nose. He said that he didn't want to miss my face when I got my hands on those sleds. He wanted to see how happy it made me, that I'd worked hard for it.

Grey had thrown an arm around my shoulders then, casually, like he didn't know what it did to my heart. Then stopped walking, taking his arm back. He knelt by the snow on the sidewalk and inspected something I couldn't see. And then boom! Snowball right to the face.

I'd lost my balance and fell back against the pavement. My head bounced off the sidewalk and the wind was ripped right from my lungs. I immediately heard Grey start apologizing as he ran over to me and helped me up. The moment I was upright, my head spun crazily. I would have fallen again, but he caught me.

You alright, Fluffy? he'd asked as an arm wound around my body to hold me up. I couldn't' say anything. He sighed and apologized over and over again. I felt him scoop my legs from under me and turn around. At sixteen, Grey was strong. Not muscular, but lean and sturdy. I'm taking you home, he'd said. We can get the sleds another day, okay?

I'd nodded into his chest, curling up into a little ball.

Grey had whispered into my hair that I'd be alright and then placed a kiss there. He had never done that before. I remember how I almost floated away. He effortlessly carried me home. When he left me in bed, it was getting dark outside.

The next morning, Pat had woke me early with a phone in hand, his mouth in a thin line.

Greyson's parents awoke expecting him to be in his room, unaware that he ever left the house in the first place.

He'd snuck out. He wasn't supposed to walk with me that night. He was too sick. And I didn't care. I didn't send him home.

Serena called the police. They said he'd show up. They said not to worry. But it didn't matter what we told the police.

As the hours crept on, I started to fall apart. No one would listen to us. No one believed us. Believed me.

After a full morning of helpless waiting around, Pat, Steven, Serena and I, jumped in the Scott's black van and started searching the neighbourhood. Brisk January air and Serena's sobs filled the car.

We never found Greyson. But we came across three clean sleds in front of the park halfway between Dan's house and ours.

The last people to see him were Dan and Susan. They said Greyson came to grab the sleds for me.

I somehow knew it all along, but it still felt like being pushed off a cliff in free-fall.

He'd gone back. For me. Because of me.

The detectives asked why the sleds were important and I had to be the one to explain what happened while Serena glared at me. It didn't matter how many tears fell down my cheeks or how many times I apologized.

Ever since that day, every time she sees me, there's that same icy look of blame in her eyes.

An amber alert was issued after that. There were no real leads. No prints, no blood, no witnesses.

After questioning Dan and Susan, it became apparent they had no involvement, but they felt the need to join us on some of our searches throughout the first few weeks. Eventually, they stopped coming.

Grey's parents deteriorated. They lost sleep, lost time, lost their will.

Pat was reminded of his own losses, how Greyson reminded him of Henry, who was dead, and never coming back.

Pat started to let go of Grey like he was forced to let go of Henry. Watching my uncle break a little more each day had me thinking that maybe one day that would be me. One day, I'd be broken, knowing I'd never see my best friend again.

I was left to hold onto hope for everyone, and for a while, it worked. I helped organize the search parties that never found anything, and I laboured tirelessly to print and distribute posters.

Tenth grade, a year that's already hard enough, was hell for me. My schoolwork was horrendous. I had no friends. My mind was dark. Very dark. I drank. I got a tattoo. I messed around with a guy I barely knew. Gave away my body for nothing. I was slipping through the cracks and no one—

Slam!

I jerk upright in the chair. They're home.

What we thinking bout Pat and Raveena? 

-Laurel