Page 181 of Property of Bob

“Yes.”

“And you’re never going to steal another fucking dime.”

Wade looked at me and then he nodded. “I won’t.”

I studied his face. I could tell he was scared, but I think that was more about worrying that Bob, Anchor, and Skull were going to kick his ass.

“What if Ellie gets sick again?”

His face changed. Wade looked down at the ground. “I ask for help.”

I waited.

He lifted his eyes to mine.

“I sell the campground. I sell my fucking house. I start a fundraiser. I beg. I borrow money legally.” His mouth twisted. “I do anything except what I did.”

That was the answer I needed.

I nodded.

Wade looked at me for a long moment. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you going to report me?”

I didn’t answer right away. I’d spent weeks thinking I needed to decide.

All I’d wanted was distance and peace, knowing that Wade wasn’t coming after me.

Now Wade had put the money back, his daughter was in remission, and he’d driven all this way because he was terrified of losing whatever life he had left.

“I’m not going to report you.”

Wade closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged so hard it looked like somebody had cut strings holding him upright. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

His eyes opened.

“I’m not doing this because what you did was okay.”

“I know.”

“I’m doing it because I want this over.”

He nodded.

“So it’s over,” I said.

“It’s over,” he repeated.

I stepped closer.

Bob came with me.

Of course he did.