Jace turned around to find both of his friends staring at him as if he’d grown three heads. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Sounds like you need a Snickers,” Brendan said, giving a hesitant chuckle. “Wanna get back in?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Jace stood there for another few moments before he got in and closed the door, leaning back. “But maybe let’s get some pizza while we’re at it? I’m suddenly really hungry.”
Brendan’s signature smirk worked its way up his face. “Hungry like a wolf?”
Jace chuckled, shaking his head as Brendan let out a howl.
Brendan pulled back onto the highway, but it was the tap on Jace's shoulder made him turn his head. Leo was leaning forward, waving something at Jace. “You can have my protein bar. You know, to tide you over until we get into town.”
“Thanks,” Jace said, taking the bar, his face coloring for a whole new reason. But as he chewed that first bite, he couldn’t help but be grateful for these guys. Even Brendan.
“And I know the perfect spot to hit up.” Brendan’s eyes slid toward Jace, his grin still in place. “Grouchy’s.”
Jace chuckled. “Fine by me. But you’re paying.”
“Orrrr we could dine and dash.”
Jace raised a brow. “Do you want the owner calling your mom to tell her you skipped out on the bill?”
Leo laughed quietly in the back seat.
“I can hear that,” Brendan said, looking at Leo through the rearview mirror. “And fine, but you owe me.” He looked pointedly at Jace.
Jace just laughed. Brendan always felt he was owed something. But he rarely collected. None of them did. It was part of the reason they were all such great friends.
“How . . . exactly did you find me?” Jace asked as the tone in the car lightened. It was something he’d wanted to ask, but hadn’t had the time or energy for. But now, he was curious.
And ready.
At least, he hoped so.
“It was weird,” Leo spoke up from the back.
Jace kept his mouth shut, waiting for someone to expound.
“You didn’t come back right away,” Leo continued, his voice quiet, as if lost in the memory.
“Yeah, so we went looking for you,” Brendan chimed in. “It was cold, we were exhausted.”
“We called your name, several times, but there was no answer.”
“Until there was.”
Jace quirked a brow, looking from Brendan to Leo. Brendan was known for his theatrics, but both he and Leo looked more than a little spooked.
“I answered?” Jace asked when the pause in storytelling dragged out a little too long.
Brendan shook his head.
“Not you,” Leo supplied. “Someone.”
“Guy? Girl?” The voices Jace had heard swirled through his mind. Had it been one of them?
Brendan shrugged. “We couldn’t tell. But they called out from where you were. Said, ‘He’s over here.’ We never saw who it was, and they didn’t do anything to help us get you back to the car.”
“I thought you were dead,” Leo said, his voice quiet. “Or that we’d kill you trying to move you.”
Brendan chuckled. “The docs ruled out brain damage, right?” Leave it to him to joke in the face of trauma.
“Ha. Ha,” Jace said. “But I . . .” he started, hesitating as he considered just how crazy he was. About to sound. “Was I wheezing?”
Brendan glanced in the rearview mirror, obviously unsure of the answer.
Leo shrugged. “You were barely breathing when we found you. I don’t remember if you were wheezing or not. Why?”
Jace nodded. “Oh. Nothing, really.” It was strange. He’d been so certain he’d collapsed a lung. He couldn’t imagine it would spontaneously heal so quickly. Or at all, for that matter. But the doctor hadn’t found anything. And his friends, who had spent a two-hour drive in a vehicle with him, didn’t remember hearing him wheeze. He must have been wrong, mistaken, something.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it really happened.
Or that the voice he’d heard—the feminine one—had led his friends to his body.
Too many questions plagued him.
Too bad he'd probably never get answers.
Chapter 5
A week. That was how long it had been since he’d returned home.
His feet pounded against the smooth pavement of the road—not the trails through the woods he usually frequented, thanks to his near irrational fear of everything that lurked in the shadows. He was supposed to be walking, not running, but it felt good.
He felt good.
He was nearly convinced his shoulder had healed, though he couldn’t test it out just yet. The appointment was Friday. They wanted to set his arm in a sling so he could begin physical therapy. Hopefully the doc would hear him out and check to see if he even needed the sling.
Jace took a deep breath, admiring the heavy scent of pine hanging in the air. He even thought he detected a sweeter note of maple, though it was probably just the memory of this morning’s breakfast.
Mom had been cooking more than normal, one of her go-tos when she got stressed. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but he didn’t like being fussed over. He was alive and fine—better than fine. She just couldn’t accept that yet.
Jace slowed to a walk as he came in view of the house. He was itching to pop into the workshop, but he’d have to pace himself if he didn’t want to worry his mom more than she already was.
He squinted at the front of the house. Despite the light bouncing off the windows, he could see his mom looking out at him. She was on the couch in her favorite spot, one that let her see the TV and who was approaching the front door with the turn of a head. She was probably reading at the moment, though the book must not be that good if she was more concerned with watching him than the story.
She lifted a hand to wave, and he did the same. He pointed to the workshop, and she nodded, though her eyes followed him.
Jace pulled open the door to his dad’s woodworking shop, taking a deep breath of the warm smell of dust and shavings.
“Hey bud,” Dad called, looking up from his workbench where he was hunched over a project, sanding. “Sorry, I don’t have anything for you to work on right now.”
Jace shrugged his good shoulder. He’d been helping out where he could, but he was pretty limited thanks to the cast. “No problem. Whatcha working on?”
Jace slid onto the stool next to his dad’s, looking at the intricately carved box. There was something about the flow of the piece that was exquisite. It was definitely one of his finer works.
Dad sighed. “It’s an urn. The guy wanted something fitting for his kid.”
“Oh.”
Apparently his parents had been more affected by the attack than he had. He kind of understood it from his mom—she’d been the one to guide him through his younger years, when things in his head made less sense and he lashed out more from the overwhelm. But Dad had always insisted on treating him like any other kid.
Until now, it seemed.
Dad sighed again. “Yeah, couldn’t turn the project down. I don’t know much about their situation, but I can’t imagine losing a kid.” Dad swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, blinking. “Sorry. Must be all the dust from this project.”