Page 49 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The next night, I slip into the former storage room and click the door closed behind me. My hand hovers over the light switch, but a glance at the upper corner reminds me of the security camera I reluctantly agreed to. I’ll leave the light off. No sound on the recording, so I can speak freely.

The quiet settles over me, lulls my eyelids closed. After two sleepless nights of praying, I could pass out standing up. I shake it off and pull out my phone—two missed calls I need the strength to address. At least I’m alone here. I grimace as an incoming call flashes onto the screen.

Give me the words. And the patience. And the guts.

“Yes?” I wince. Terrible start.

“Excuse me? Were you raised in a barn?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Hello, Mother. How are you this evening? ”

“Much better now, thank you. I’m calling with an update. Is that of interest to you, or are you too busy with a tent revival?”

I half smile. Teasing is progress.

“Don’t worry,” I say, “I’ve stepped out of the tent to take your call.”

She chuckles.

“How is he?” My feet carry me toward the chair I recently unboxed, but I freeze as hurt and loss hit me with a one-two punch. I’ll stand by the door.

“He’s hired a reputable PR firm. Past time, of course, but you and Everett were too well behaved to warrant media intervention.” A pause. “Your early-life crisis has long since cycled out of the rumor mill, you know, but the neighbors are holding out hope for more intrigue in your twenties.”

Remarkable. She’s teasing me again. And … was that a hint of gratitude?

“Caldwell Sterling is crafting a narrative of resilience as we speak,” she continues. “Thus far, they seem perfectly competent, if not promising.”

I digest the news and jerk up. “He refused?”

“He refused.”

I lean against the door to steady myself as the pieces fall into place. “What changed his mind?” His team has offered a thousand alternative maneuvers, though they still don’t know a single detail about the people threatening him.

“I like to think I made him see the value in this course of action,” she says. “Of course, he’ll insist it was his own idea—a simple necessity for a family like ours.”

I press my head to the door as a chuckle escapes into the dark. The wave of relief is so strong it brings tears to my eyes. After all these years, he’s done hiding.

How did you do that?

Thank you.