Page 137 of The Five Year Lie

As if.I swallow down my fear and confusion. “Well, I thought you weredead, Drew. Or—not Drew. Jay. I don’t even know what to call you.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He puts a hand to the back of his neck and rubs, and the familiar gesture makes me want to cry. “I’ll answer to anything you call me.”

“Anything?” I grumble, and he grins.

But then his smile fades. “Sweetheart, are you in trouble? Is that why you’re here?”

I manage to nod. “So much trouble. But can we go inside? I need to be near Buzz.”

“Buzz.”He gives me a watery smile. “I can’t stand it. You know I didn’t leave you because I wanted to, right? On your way to getting in trouble, did you figure that out?”

“Sort of,” I whisper.

He moves fast then, wrapping his arms around me again. The feel of his body against mine is so familiar I almost can’t bear it—except for the beard, which tickles my neck. “Christ, Ariel,” he says to my jaw. “I’m probably saying all the wrong things. I can’t believe you’re here.”

I shudder out a breath, and my eyes feel hot. But I make myself pull away, while I’m still capable of it. “Do you have any more guns in your house?”

“Why?” He glances toward the house, looking confused. But then his eyes widen. “Oh, shit. It’s okay—they’re locked in a safe in the cellar. This is the only key.” He pulls a chain out from the inside of his T-shirt.

I swallow hard. “I’ve never been so scared as I have these past four days. I can’t even think straight.”

“Come on.” He takes my hand. “Come inside. You’re going to be okay. And so is”—his eyes redden—“our little boy.”

“He doesn’t know,” I whisper. “I told him we were going to see a friend. I didn’t know if we would find you.”

He blows out a breath. “I’m so glad you did. But that means someone else could, too.” He squeezes my hand and leads me toward the door.

49

The main floor of the log cabin is one big room—a kitchen at the back, fronted by a cozy seating area and a fireplace.

Buzz is already seated at the kitchen counter, as if this were his own house. He’s eating a sandwich while the dog waits patiently at his feet, probably hoping for scraps.

“How’s the food, little guy?” Drew asks, his voice husky with emotion.

Buzz just nods and takes a huge bite. I don’t even think he’s tasting it.

Drew stands stock-still and watches him for a long beat. Then he sort of shakes himself and turns to me. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know” is my truthful answer. My mind is swirling too fast to think about my stomach.

Drew moves into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets. He makes two more sandwiches and pushes one toward me. He takes out three glasses and begins filling them with water. But then he stops before he gets to the third one. “Do you drink milk?” he asks Buzz. “I used to like milk with my sandwiches.”

“Yep,” Buzz says, swinging his feet.

Drew goes to the fridge and grabs a gallon of milk.

“How about a thank-you?” I say automatically.

“Thank you,” Buzz chirps.

Drew puts the glass in front of him and then watches with wide eyes as Buzz lifts the glass with both hands and gulps from it.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his voice full of wonder.

Not that I blame him. Sometimes I feel just the same way when I look at Buzz.

I manage to eat a few bites of food, while Drew pulls out a phone and taps on a number. “Hey, Woody,” he says. “I got a situation. Ariel is here, and we’re going to need to tighten up security. Yes,thatAriel. She walked up the road and...” His eyes cut to Buzz. “There are complications. Come over later and you’ll see for yourself.”