Chapter Twenty-One
Susan touched Andrew’s shoulder, and he pulled his gaze from Lucas to look at her, as if he’d forgotten the rest of the world. The conversation with the police didn’t take long. They were involved in the search earlier and sympathetic to Kandace’s plight.
Susan tugged the sleeve of Andrew’s coat. “You’re going to be here for a while. Might as well take this off,” she said gently.
“Right. Thanks.” He shrugged out of the jacket and let her take it.
He turned his attention back to the bed before she finished draping his jacket and hers over a chair. She repeated the gesture with Kandace, whose look was equally haunted.
In a way, it felt wrong to be here. As if she was intruding on too private a moment for an outsider. At the same time, she didn’t want to leave them alone. This was what it looked like when family cared. In a twisted way, she envied Lucas. Not his situation, but if it had been her, hurt or lost, would her father care beyond how it would damage his image in the community?
She shook aside the venom-filled and selfish thought, and dragged a chair in from another room. When the legs scraped against tile, screeching through the quiet, she cringed. Neither Andrew nor Kandace looked up. She positioned herself next to Andrew and intertwined her fingers with his.
He squeezed until their hands shook, and then relaxed his grip with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Thank you for finding him.” Andrew’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
“You got us there. I helped finish the thought.”
“Thank you anyway. I don’t know what I’d do if…”
She traced her thumb over his. “I know, but that’s not how it went down, so it’s not worth dwelling on.”
“You’re pretty smart sometimes, Suzie-Q.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift.”
Silence descended again, smothering until Susan had to remind herself nothing had changed in the air. That she could breathe fine.
Someone knocked lightly on the open hospital door, and the three swiveled their heads toward the sound. A woman stood there with a boy about Lucas’s age, whose eyes were red rimmed and puffy.
“Rose.” Kandace’s voice sounded like it filtered through sandpaper. She cleared her throat. “What’s up?”
Rose nudged the boy forward. “I don’t want to interrupt, but Noah needs to talk to you. He insisted. Go ahead, honey.”
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Noah started sobbing and shaking, until Susan worried he might rattle apart.
Rose knelt behind him and hugged him. “It’s okay. They won’t be mad.”
Andrew’s grip sent a tremor through Susan’s arm. For several minutes, the loudest sound in the room was the boy’s cries, mingling with his mother’s wordless whisper.
Noah hiccupped and sniffled. He looked up again. “A few weeks ago, at school, Lucas kissed me. And I liked it.” He searched the faces in the room, as if he were terrified that alone would get him in trouble. “So last night, I thought it was okay. And we were playing, and I kissed him back. And he got so mad, and told me he hated me and he hated himself and he wished he’d never been born. And that’s when he left.”
Andrew hissed, low and long. Susan didn’t know if anyone else heard.
Kandace slid from her chair, to crouch next to Noah. She looked him in the eye. “Thank you for telling us,” she said. “You’re not in trouble. And this isn’t your fault. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Will Lucas be okay?”
Susan’s gut clenched at the pause.
“Of course he will. He’ll stay at your house again soon, if you want.” Kandace gave him an awkward hug. She talked to Rose for a minute or two in hushed tones, then mother and son left.
“Conversion therapy won’t be a big deal.” Andrew’s tone was snide. “It’s his decision. He’ll be fine.”
The look Kandace shot him would have wilted any plant in its path. “That’s helpful.”