I take him across the hall while Derby turns his back without making a production of it. That small courtesy sits in my chest heavier than it should. I help August brush his teeth with the blue glitter toothbrush, wash his face, and smooth his hair with water. He stares at himself in the mirror, dinosaur tucked under one arm.
“Are we staying here?” he asks.
I pause.
I don’t know.
That is the honest answer.
The honest answer is too big for five.
“For now,” I say.
He frowns. “In jail?”
I look around the bathroom, at the old tile and the thick door. “It’s not a jail anymore.”
“It has bars.”
“Some places keep their old parts.”
“Like Blue Rex. His tail got chewed, but he’s still good.”
My eyes sting.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Like that.”
When we come back, Sophie is standing by the window and Derby is gone from the doorway.
Panic moves fast.
“Where did he go?” August asks before I can.
Sophie turns. “Downstairs to get coffee.”
“Oh.”
August tries to sound casual and fails.
Sophie notices. Her expression softens.
We eat in the room because I’m not ready to take August downstairs into a clubhouse full of bikers before he has eggs in his stomach and I have coffee in mine. Sophie doesn’t push. She sits in the chair, legs crossed, and talks to August about dinosaurs like she has all the time in the world. He tells her Blue Rex is a carnivore but only eats bad guys, cereal, and sometimes socks. Sophie receives this information with the respect it apparently deserves.
I drink coffee and try not to cry into it.
It’s good coffee.
Strong. Hot. Sweetened the way I like it, though I don’t remember telling anyone that. Maybe all women on the run take sugar because bitterness is already covered.
A dog appears in the doorway. At first, all I see is a big golden head, one floppy ear, and a red bandana tied around a thick, shaggy neck. His soft brown eyes move from Sophie to me, then settle on August like he has found the smallest person in the room and knows that makes him the most important.
August freezes with a bite of eggs halfway to his mouth.
The dog doesn’t bark or rush in. He just stands there, tail brushing the hallway wall in slow, lazy sweeps.
Sophie smiles. “Oh. That’s Mayor McCoy.”
I blink. “Mayor?”