Page 134 of Midnight Curfew

“Dallas,” Anna-Katherine sobs.

“Did he hurt you?” I ask her.

I don’t know what I hope to hear. If Callum hurt her, I can kill him. There’s something peaceful about that. I have anger to get out, and it’s what he deserves, isn’t it?

But if he hurt her, that would be it between us. A feeling curdles in my stomach.

I can’t even believe I suspended my anger over what he tried to do to Liv long enough to sleep with him again.

She doesn’t reply, just cries. “I don’t like it here,” she rants. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

She doesn’t like it at school? She loves my classroom.

“I’m coming to get you,” I assure her, more fucking rain starting to cover my windshield. I flip on the wipers.

“I just want to see snow first,” she murmurs, tears straining her voice. “I can leave after I see snow.”

What? “I don’t understand.”

It’s starting to sound familiar, though. The double meaning.

Leaving…

How many times had something that Macon—or my mother—said make me pause and think they meant something other than what they said.

“Anna-Katherine, I’m driving now,” I tell her. “You want to sing your song to me? It was something about horses, right?”

I can’t think, déjà vu slamming me hard. She’s crying, I’m the only one here…

She swallows a few times. “Danc-ing bears,” she mutters, her voice shaking. “Pain-ted wings, thiiings I almoooost rememmmmber…”

She keeps going, and I race across the canal, entering St. Carmen. She goes on, singing, humming, then singing again, and I almost don’t pay attention to the road, the lyrics sinking in.

It’s about lost childhood. Remembering a time when she was safe.

Son of a bitch.

Coasting around the center of town, I climb up to Marymount, seeing the cop right before I pass him.

I flit my eyes to the time on my phone. 12:02 a.m.

Shit.

Holding my breath, I take in the dim cab and dark headlights.

And I fly by, glancing in my rearview mirror, waiting for it. For the lights to beam bright. The sirens to start.

As I drive, though, the distance between the cop and me keeps increasing, and nothing happens. The black police cruiser just sits.

There’s someone in there, though.

Come on, Army.

When she stops singing, I ask her, “Is Callum at the school with you?”

I don’t know what happened. If he came back to the Ministry offices or what?

She whimpers, “No, I ran from home.”