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430 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 21, 2023


“I don’t know. I can’t figure it out.” I surged up from the coffee table. Rivera was looking at me. Dad was looking at me. Holmes was looking at me. Tears surged up, and it was mostly luck that I was able to talk through them. “What do you think? Is there anything in the last couple of years that could explain why I ran the fuck away after almost getting killed?” (...) And then I started crying—huge, ragged sobs as my body curled around my pillow. Whatever was moving through me, it was so vast that it felt tidal: a crushing weight that poured out of me, mostly in the form of tears and snot, and then, when it pulled back, nothing.
I knew that he was something more than me, something vast and wonderful that I could only touch the edges of. But for someone like me, the edge was enough—just a glimpse was enough. And, more importantly for right now, I knew what he sounded like when he’d been hurt, the quality of his breathing, because I’d hurt him in a way few people ever had. Which was why, in those rare midnight hours when I could be honest with myself, I knew it was better this way, as friends. Because I didn’t deserve him.
“I have been, I think—” Blackfriar said, the words so low I caught myself leaning in, moving to hear him better. “—admirably patient. I have not objected, even though you have distracted my son, even though you have caused him to lose focus. I have not interfered.” He bared his teeth again. “I can be patient, Jack. You are nothing compared to my son; why should I worry, when I know that you are a speck of dust next to what I have created? He will open his eyes eventually, and when he does, he won’t remember so much as your name.” The rictus on his face widened. “I have even let you play with him.” The way he said the word made the hair on my neck stand up, and heat rushed into my face. “Even though I do not like other people touching my things.” He took a step, and I backed up and hit the wall. “Would you agree, then, that I have been patient?”
He sat there in silhouette, head down. I knew the curve of his spine. I knew the span of his shoulders. Anywhere, I thought. I could be anywhere and know you.
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked.
He shook his head. His voice was rough but surprisingly steady when he said, “I will never want you to leave.”
He made a frustrated noise. Then he smiled. The expression was a little stiff; he wasn't used to doing it, and it was another of those things that he was self-conscious about. I'd read about people who get up at two or three in the morning-on vacation, no less, when they're in Hawaii-and then they drive hours and hours, and all of it is to see the sunrise from this one specific spot, and I thought, Come to Utah if you want something worth your time.