They waited on the loveseat together until Sadie fell asleep.
Ethan gently eased out from under her, tucked an afghan over her, then stood watching her a moment. Faint twilight illuminated the room from the picture window as dawn approached.
He went into Graham's bedroom and sat on the bed. A cold October breeze poured through the gaping window and fluttered the curtains. Sadie had managed to finally warm him, but now the cold seeped right back down to his bones. He felt as though his body had stopped producing its own heat.
He drifted close to sleep while listening to the wind sigh and rattle the dead leaves in the rain gutter. Then a scuffling sound jerked him awake.
A pair of hands reached in and gripped the windowsill. Graham pulled himself halfway through, spotted Ethan, and froze with one knee planted on the outside ledge.
“Oh, crap.”
Ethan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glared at his son. “Do you have any idea how worried I've been?”
“I'm sorry.”
“Sorry isn't going to cut it. You . . .” His throat constricted. Too many emotions—anger, relief to see his son all right, sadness, despair—made it hard for Ethan to hold himself together.
Graham's thin arms trembled at the effort of balancing himself on the window ledge.
Ethan stood and helped his son the rest of the way in. They sat side-by-side on the edge of the bed.
“Where were you, Graham?”
“I . . . nowhere.”
“Nowhere?”
“I was just walking around.”
“Must have been quite a walk.”
“I wasn't paying attention to the time. I'm sorry.”
“No. You can't sorry your way out of this.”
“I'm not trying to.” Graham stared down at his lap.
Ethan spotted what looked like a cat scratch peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt. He reached to tug the collar down.
“You hurt yourself?”
Graham shied away, curling his shoulder up against his neck. “No.”
“What is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
Time to regroup. Ethan didn't want to argue with Graham. Not now. He raked a hand through his hair, took a couple calming breaths. “I have to tell you something.”
Graham shrugged. “'Kay.”
“It's Alison.”
He lifted his gaze and searched Ethan's face. “What happened?”
Ethan reached out and grabbed his son's arm. He didn't feel like a father anymore. He felt like a lost child.
“She's gone,” Ethan said. “She's dead.”
Tears swelled in Graham's eyes. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “How?”
“We don't know yet. The police—”
“Police?”
“They think someone . . .” He couldn't say killed, as if the word were a curse. He felt like a fool when Graham said it for him.
“Somebody killed her?”
“They think so.”
Graham's face crunched up and the tears rolled down his cheeks. “Why? How?”
“I don't know. They're looking into it.”
“What are we gonna do?”
The question hit Ethan like a sucker punch. Such a wide open question. What were they going to do right now? What were they going to do tomorrow? What were they going to do with the rest of their lives? Ethan didn't have an answer for any of them. Nor did he have the imagination or energy to fabricate one.
“I don't know,” he said. “I'm sorry, but I just don't know.”
They fell silent, each staring into their own future without Alison.
Ethan felt like he should say something more, but didn't have the words. Each minute would take its own getting through. But how long would such a struggle last? He couldn't imagine ever letting a second pass without feeling her absence. He would grieve for the rest of his life.
Graham broke the silence. “Does Mom know?”
It took Ethan a second, his thoughts so jumbled, to realize who he meant. “Probably not. She's not a legal guardian. I doubt the police contacted her.”
“How will she find out? Do we tell her?”
The idea made Ethan's stomach roll. Something must have shown in his face.
“She has to know, right?”
“I imagine the police will want to question her eventually. She'll find out from them.”
Graham's brow furled. “That doesn't seem right.”
“It's not up to us, Graham. She isn't a part of our lives anymore.”
“You don't have to treat me like a little kid. I'm old enough to understand why we can't see her.”
“I realize that.”
“I'm also old enough to know it's better Mom hear about Alison from you than the police.”
“It isn't that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because it isn't.”
Graham wiped his nose, shook his head. “Whatever.”
A knot had started bunching at the base of Ethan's skull. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to work out the tension. “I don't think it's a good idea.”
“I'm not saying we should move back in with her.”
What was he afraid of? Had he grown so resentful that he couldn't offer her the courtesy of gently breaking the news? A quick visit. Tell her and leave. Simple as that.
Ethan hugged Graham around the shoulders. “Don't expect much from her. If you think something's going to change—”
“I don't expect anything. I just think she has a right to know.”
As far as Ethan was concerned, Rain had given up her parental rights when she chose her drug habit over her own kids. But he kept that sentiment to himself. He would make the visit for Graham's sake. Let him see for himself how little she really cared. Let him figure out the difference between a mother and a mom.