Page 36

His thoughts drifted to Itori. Itori was bigger and stronger and more terrifying than his father had been even at his prime. But Itori was also kind. Gentle. Will barely knew him at all, but he’d been so careful with Will, so open. He didn’t make Will feel ashamed.

His father’s words piled on top of his shoulders until Will felt sunk into the couch. Like he was drowning and there was a scream bottled-up inside him that couldn’t get out.

In an hour, this would be over. He’d go outside and start the long walk home.

But what if he never came back?

The thought was a siren song that he could hear from a great distance. But he couldn’t abandon this place just like he couldn’t leave this town.

Where would he even go?

“So next time, bring beer,” his father ended his tirade with. “The good shit, don’t be fuckin’ cheap.”

Will nodded, staring at the glow of the TV.

He couldn’t leave, because where would he even go?

Chapter 8

Will went nightly to the spring the next handful of days without finding Itori. Nights in his trailer had become unbearable. All he could see everywhere he looked was evidence of the coffin he’d made for himself.

So Will went to the spring instead. He sat on the road in the water for hours, listening to crickets and frogs. Stared at the construction trailer and tried to think of what he could do that would stop what was happening. Even if Itori was gone, he should still try, shouldn’t he? From what Itori had said, this place had power. It was special.

He shouldn’t just sit around and let them destroy it.

The collection of trucks and cranes and supplies in the parking lot had expanded. Today, trucks had started delivering cement pipes.

But what could he do against all that? He was only one person. A person no one listened to on a regular day.

Will sighed as he walked past the stacks of pipes. It was a dark night, the moon hidden behind clouds. He stopped at his usual spot and sat down, staring up at the cloudy sky. He closed his eyes, listening to the crickets and the frogs sing around him. Even without Itori, this was better than the silent tomb of his trailer.

He started humming. It came to him slowly, following the pulse of the night song.

He wished he were braver. He wished he were smarter and richer and more powerful. He wished he were the type of man who could put on a business suit and stand toe to toe with those men in the parking lot.

His humming got louder. Will curled his arms around his folded knees. He could never be that person, the one who made a difference. Who he was–what he was–had always been the albatross around his neck. Something that people saw on him, even though he’d never advertised it. They just knew he was different. Not one of them.

Will wished he could scrub it away. Wished he knew what it was, so he could change it. Blend in.

Somewhere in the dark, the water rippled.

Will’s head shot up, his heart tripping over itself. He noticed then that all the other night animals had fallen silent.

Will scrambled to his feet.

“Itori?” He strained to see, peering in the direction of the sound.

A moment later, reflective eyes came up out of the water.

The relief almost took him to his knees. Will tripped forward, stepping off the road and into deeper waters, heedless of the cold that surrounded him.

Itori swam toward him and when he got close enough, Will was quick to grab him. Itori was no doubt heavy, but in the water, Will could move him.

They ended up back on the road, seated. Will wrapped his arms around him.

“I was so worried! Oh my god, I didn’t know if I was going to see you again–”

“I am sorry,” Itori said softly, slowly copying Will to wrap his arms around his back. “It has been hard.”