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He didn’t have to wait long before the blinds parted a bit, Martha’s familiar eyes looking out at him. The door opened, and she pulled him inside quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him. He didn’t have a chance to speak before Martha wrapped him in a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder.

Nick patted her back. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Still. That was a pretty big knife.”

“It was,” Nick agreed as she pulled away, looking him up and down as if checking for injuries.

“I’m so relieved I didn’t stab you,” Martha said seriously, which, to be fair, wasn’t something Nick ever expected to hear her say. These were strange days. “I’d have never forgiven myself.”

Nick shrugged. “You tried, but then I respectfully kicked your ass, so.” He winced. “Uh, sorry about that, by the way. I hope you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” she said. She stepped around him, going to the sink where a pile of dirty dishes sat stacked, the remains of their breakfast. “Bob thinks people would believe us if we told them what happened. I wish I could think the same, but I saw how everyone reacted when Seth spoke his truth.” She angrily scrubbed a sponge against a plate. “They think he’s dangerous.”

“He’s the best of us,” Nick said firmly. He glanced toward the kitchen entrance. “Is he okay?”

Martha sighed as she flipped on the faucet, washing the dish soap away. “I don’t know. He’s been down in the basement, punching that bag. You know how he gets. He says he’s all right, but he’s been… quiet, the last couple of days. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of his.”

Nick didn’t either, not really. He hadn’t seen much of Seth since Friday, their only contact through texts. Jazz had spoken to him once, but Gibby hadn’t, dealing with her parents’ anger over what had happened. Trey and Aysha were furious, and rightly so. But not at them, Gibby had reassured him. At the Burkes, and at the police who had tried to arrest them all in front of the house. It was only because of Cap that it hadn’t happened, Cap who had stepped in and demanded to speak with the interim chief.

“I’ll find out,” Nick promised. “Make sure he’s good.”

“Thank you.” Without turning around, she asked, “How’s your dad?”

He’d left Dad sleeping in the bed, with a note on his chest telling him where he’d gone. Dad needed sleep, and Nick hadn’t wanted to wake him. By the time they’d finished the Bell Cryfest for Reasons, Dad had smiled a bit, laughing at Nick’s usual idiocy. Then his eyes had grown heavy and a moment later, he’d started snoring.

“He’ll be all right,” Nick said. “It may take time to get there, but he’s done it before. He can do it again. He has me.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” She paused, looking down at the soap on her hands. “Go. Talk to Seth and see if you can get him to stop hitting things. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. I made Bob an appointment with his doctor. His blood pressure is already high enough, and he’s not getting any younger. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You need help going out front?” Nick asked, itching to head to the basement.

Martha shook her head. “We’ll go out through the back. I’ll call if it takes longer than I think it will.”

Nick nodded. He started toward the entryway and stoppedbefore passing through. He looked back at Martha in front of the sink, her shoulders squared, hands scrubbing the rest of the dishes. “Martha?”

She looked back at him.

“I love you.”

And oh, how she smiled. “I love you, too, Nicky. Now get out of my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and left her behind.

He could hear Seth going hard at the punching bag as soon as he opened the basement door, meaty thuds punctuated by heavy grunts. He’d probably been going at it for a long time, and Nick started to doubt his welcome. Sometimes, Seth needed to work through things on his own.

But then, Seth had told him to come over when Nick had offered, so it wasn’t like it was going to be a surprise.

He reached the bottom of the steps, greeting on the tip of his tongue. But it died a strangled death when he saw what was waiting for him in the basement.

Seth wore nothing but black mesh shorts, back muscles shifting under a sheen of sweat as he punched the bag, left, right, right, left, left, the thick veins on his forearms bulging. The curls of his hair bounced wetly with every movement, and Nick feared if he spoke first, it was going to come out exceedingly dirty, given how appreciative he was of the sight before him.

He made as much noise as possible to let Seth know he was there, dropping his backpack on the cracked cement floor, jumping up on the dryer against the wall, letting his feet bounce against the metal side as he touched the towel and bottle of water Seth had brought down with him. Seth didn’t look at him, stepping back and swinging his leg out in a flat arc, bare foot striking the punching bag, causing it to fly to the side.

It went on for a few more minutes before Seth stopped, moving away from the bag, shaking his arms and legs out. Nick held up the towel for him, which he took with a nod, wiping it overhis face and chest, under his arms, across his back. It was positively obscene, and Nick was trying his level best to ignore the display.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Feel better?”

“I don’t know.”