Then at me.
All the miles between us collapse into one breath. I stand slowly.
August stays against my side, one hand gripping my jeans like he is afraid I might vanish if he lets go.
Amelia doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Not yet.
Behind me, Hot Mama’s voice is low, amused, and sharp enough to cut hide.
“Well, Derby,” she says. “Ask the right question.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amelia
August sees Derby before I do.
Or maybe I see him first and my body refuses to believe it.
That’s possible too.
Lonerock has been full of impossible things since I arrived. So maybe my mind sees Derby standing near the campground road and decides he must be another impossible thing.
August doesn’t have that problem.
“Derby!”
His little voice slices across the yard.
I turn in time to see my son run.
Not walk.
Not hesitate.
Run.
Blue Rex is in one hand. Princess Chomp is in the other. His sneakers kick up dirt as he tears across the campground toward the man I left sleeping in Kentucky. The man I told not to follow. The man I betrayed because I thought leaving himwas the only way to keep him from turning his rage into a body count.
Derby is standing beside Widowmaker, travel-worn, dusty, and darker around the eyes than he was when I left him. His cut is on. His beard is wind-tangled. His head is rough with days of not shaving. He looks like he rode across the country fueled by fury.
When August hits him, Derby catches him awkwardly, like the force of it surprises him.
Then he holds on.
Only for half a second too long.
But I see it.
His hand cups the back of August’s head. His eyes close. His shoulders drop like he has been carrying the whole road across his back and my son just took part of the weight without knowing it.
My breath breaks in my chest.
I can’t move.