Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3), Brett Battles [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

He thinks on this for a second or two, and frowns. “Then it was complete chance you camped near us at the Grand Canyon?”

“Complete chance,” I say, which might be the most honest answer I’ve given him.

He studies my face, eyes narrowing. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Until we saw you that first time, we had no idea you and your family even existed.”

“You didn’t follow us here?”

“Did you see us following you?”

A downward glance and a shake of his head.

“Then how could we have done that?”

He looks at the floor. At first, he seems a bit lost, but when he returns his gaze to me, the intensity in his eyes has ratcheted up tenfold. “Okay, then. Why were you in our RV?”

This is the question I’ve been dreading, but there’s no way he would leave it unasked. I have no good answers to give him, so I have little choice but to be at least semi-truthful.

“We were worried about you.”

His eyebrows converge on each other. “What?”

“We saw what your father made you do at the Grand Canyon,” I remind him. “That’s not…normal. You seem like a good kid. When we realized you live here, we wanted to make sure the situation hadn’t gotten any worse.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Evan says. It’s a practiced line, a variation of something I’m sure he’s learned to say a lot.

I can’t come out this week. I have homework.

It’s my fault I’ve been grounded.

I was clumsy and tripped. That’s all.

He was even able to put some conviction behind it, though not enough to convince anyone who’s met Chuckie.

Calling him on it isn’t going to help our current situation, so I say, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Seconds pass without any of us speaking, the tension growing. I don’t want to be the one to break the silence. The less I say, the better.

To my surprise, it’s Jar who speaks first. “It was a mistake.”

Evan cocks his head. “What was a mistake?”

“Hiding under your camper. That was my idea. I wanted to make sure you and your brother were okay.”

A defensive flare races through his eyes. “My brother? I can take care of my brother myself.”

“He is on the spectrum, is he not?”

“Leave my brother out of this.”

“I only say this because I am as well.”

He looks at her as if she’s spoken a foreign language. “What?”

“Your brother and me—we are the same.”

“You mean you’re…”

“Yes.”

Evan doesn’t seem to know what to make of this, which is a feeling I share. Jar has never talked directly to anyone about the way her brain is wired. Not ever. Not even to me.

“You don’t seem the same,” Evan finally says.

“Every person is unique. Even those like your brother and me. He does have something that I do not, though.”

“What’s that?”

“A brother to watch over him.”

Evan looks surprised by her response. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. None of us can change the past. We can only affect the future. Which is why, after we realized you and your brother were here in Mercy, we checked on you. I’m sorry that my friend surprised you. But even if hiding in your camper was a mistake, I am not sorry that we did it.”

Man, I could not have tied up that story better. And all of what she said is true.

Still, the explanation leaves plenty of questions unanswered. Like, how did we find out Evan and his family were in Mercy at all? How come we live so close to where they live? Why is there no real furniture in our house? Not to mention a dozen other loose threads that if tugged on would expose the fact there is more to why we’re here than we’re letting on.

Evan doesn’t seem to be thinking of any of that, though. From the tears gathering in his eyes, I know Jar’s words have resonated with him. I think he isn’t used to people seeing his brother and their relationship as being something other than a nuisance or a burden. It’s almost certainly the way his father sees things.

He wipes his eyes before the tears can fall. After a glance at Jar, he looks at me. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He means hide in the Winnebago. “He could have caught you. That would have been bad.”

There’s no question about who he’s referring to. Part of me wants to use his words as an opening to question him about his father. But to do so would draw him into our conspiracy, if even just a little bit. So instead I say, “I promise it won’t happen again.”

A bit of his defensive tone sneaks back into his voice when he says, “We’re fine. Everything is fine. You…you don’t need to worry about us.”

“Good,” Jar says. “That is a relief.”

Whatever fight is left in Evan seeps away. He takes a deep breath and stands up. “I should get back home.”

“Thank you for coming by,” Jar says. “It is good to clear things up. If you ever need a place to get away to, you are always welcome here.”

“Yes,” I say. “Anytime. Day or night.”

“Thanks.” I can tell he’s not really sure what to do with that information. But hopefully, if a time does come when he needs a hideaway, he’ll take us up on our offer. We won’t be here forever, but we do plan on staying until he and his brother are safe, after which a place to run away to should no longer be necessary.

“I wouldn’t mention to anyone that you saw us,” I say.

A quick, humorless laugh escapes his lips. “Are you kidding? Who would I tell?”

We walk him to the door. The whole time I sense he has something more he wants to say but is having an internal debate as to whether he should or not. Apparently, the or not camp wins out, because all he says as he steps outside is “good night” and then he’s gone.

After I close the