Page 135 of The Five Year Lie

But then I hear it—the clear trill of a man whistling. It’s coming around the side of the house.

Goose bumps rise up on my skin. I change direction, crossing in front of Buzz’s tree, inching toward the corner of the house for a glimpse. The lumber comes into view first—it’s lying on a sawhorse or a table.

Then I see a man, bent over a workbench. And all the air leaves my body. Because I know the familiar angle of his neck as he inspects his work. And the flex of his hand as he tests the smoothness of a piece of wood.

A dog’s low growl startles both of us.

The man straightens up quickly, turning toward me, his eyes finding me where I’m half-hidden behind the corner of his house. “Who’s—”

I take another step, revealing myself fully. But I don’t say a word. I can’t. I’m too busy cataloging all the tiny, familiar things. ThatARMYT-shirt stretched across his chest. Those blue eyes. I’d knowhim anywhere, in spite of the unfamiliar beard on his face. And the deep tan of a man who doesn’t work in an office anymore.

And I still can’t speak. Not even a squeak. I can’t move, either. I’m afraid to ask my questions. I’m afraid he’ll send me away.

But I don’t want to stop looking at him. Not ever.

“Ariel?” he whispers as clear blue eyes take me in from head to toe. “Holy shit.”

My thoughts exactly.

The German shepherd is also surprised. He lets out a single bark, stalking toward me.

Drew holds up one hand, palm down, moving as if the gesture is automatic. “Buster, sit. Stay.”

The dog drops his butt on the grass, and I gasp.Buster.The dog fromToy Story. My face is wet with tears, and I don’t know how they got there.

Drew advances slowly, like I might be a mirage. And I know the feeling. It’s impossible that he’s walking toward me. And yet he is.

“You’re the one asking for me at the hardware store?” he asks.

I give him a jerky nod, but that’s all. I didn’t plan this part. I never thought I would see him again. My throat threatens to close up, and my tears make me angry all of a sudden. “I don’t even know what to call you,” I croak. “You didn’t even tell me your real name.”

“God, I’m sorry.” He’s still coming closer. And I’m fighting dueling urges—to step back, or maybe to launch myself at him and never let go.

“... I only left because I had to. Not because I didn’t love you. I miss you every damn day.”

I feel a jolt of heartache. And then he’srightthere, pulling me into his arms. He smells like sunshine and cotton and skin. I push my face against the collar of his T-shirt and try not to shake.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. “How did you get here?”

I don’t answer right away, because I can’t process the question until I force myself to take a step backward, out of his embrace. “That... that’s a very long story,” I stammer. “But first, there’s someone—”

Before I can get the sentence out, the dog barks. Loudly. His dark nose points toward the woods. Toward my little boy.

Drew’s whole demeanor changes. He steps back and squares himself toward the tree line. “Who’s there?” he demands.

Then he draws a handgun out of his pocket and aims it toward the big oak.

Cold, naked fear rolls through me so fast that I feel my insides collapse. “Drew,NO!” I shriek.

He drops his arm immediately, the gun pointed at the grass.

And then Buzz steps out from behind the tree, terror in his eyes.

“Holy...” Drew whispers.

My whole body is shaking. But I raise my arms, offering them to Buzz.

He runs toward me like a lost soul, colliding with my hips, grabbing me around the waist, burying his face at my hip. I palm his head and try to remember how to breathe.