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She curled a strand of blonde hair around her ear. “Really. I don’t know what I have to offer, but I want to earn my keep.” She reached out and touched his arm. It was innocent, but he found himself drifting into thoughts he didn’t want to have—thoughts about what she could really do for him if she wanted to earn her keep. To make herself useful…

“I’ll try to think of something we can get you guys working on. Sound fair?” he said.

She retracted her hand and slid it under her armpit. “Thanks.”

He nodded and reopened the book. As she turned to leave, he trained his eyes onto the pages like it was the most interesting thing he had ever read. He wanted to look at her ass—tight in those yoga pants—but kept his gaze away. Even so, he couldn’t shake the image. When she disappeared out of his peripheral, he rubbed his eyes. Stayed there a few minutes, grimacing. He loved Elise. He loved her only.

The baseboards upstairs crackled. He was sliding the book back into place when he heard a cry—guttural, terrified.

He pulled the pistol from his waistband and sprinted into the living room, stopping a second later. His son thrashed around the couch as his aunt, tears cascading down her cheeks, looked back at him. Her lip was split open in the middle and her chin dripped blood. “He just started shaking,” she cried.

Sean’s mind clicked. He set his pistol on the coffee table and sprinted toward the stairs. Elise emerged from the kitchen. “Oh my God,” she yelled.

“Get something for him to bite down on,” he shouted, running up the stairs.

“Are you getting the medicine?” she yelled back.

He ignored her, leaping three, sometimes four steps at a time until he was at the top. He bolted into the main bathroom to a wooden medicine cabinet mounted on the wall. Almost tore the door off getting into it. He grabbed a pill bottle next to the acetaminophen and his sleeping pills. Aidan’s pills wouldn’t stop the seizure, but they might prevent a second one. And the doctor said the second one would do the most damage. He might stop breathing. If it lasted too long, he would suffocate. Sean ran out of the bathroom.

Molly came into the hall and closed the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

“A seizure.”

He was already halfway down the stairs before he finished his sentence. He came around the banister and rushed to his son. Elise cradled him, holding his head against her body, his chest heaving and his legs and arms spasming. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and he bit down on the handle of a plastic spoon like it was a piece of tough steak.

Michael watched from a distance, Kelly sobbing into his shoulder and staining his sleeve with her bloody lip. Sean pointed to him. “Get a glass of water.” He paused. “And the small knife we keep in a baggy in the silverware drawer.”

Elise shook her head. The knife was a last resort, if the medicine didn’t work. If they needed to make a hole for Aidan to breathe. Sean seemed to hear Elise’s thoughts, so he grabbed her arm and looked her in the eye. “Just in case.”

Michael highballed into the kitchen, and Sean got on his knees in front of the flailing boy. Molly sat in a chair, bowed her head, and clasped her hands together. Sean knew her prayers weren’t being heard, but he put his hand on her knee and squeezed it to encourage her.

After one more agonizing minute, his son’s fingers loosened, and his limbs dropped and ceased twitching. He lay back, sweating, tears rolling down the sides of his cheeks. Sean smiled. Elise hugged him tightly. “How are you, bud?” Sean asked.

“I had a seizure.”

“Yeah, you did. It’s been a while.”

Michael set a glass of water and the knife on the coffee table, Sean staring at Elise. Last resort.

They were on borrowed time. If there was another seizure coming, it would hit soon. “I need you to take one of these pills,” Sean said.

Aidan took the glass. Sean popped one pill into his hand. The medicine was white and powdery, encased in a clear shell designed to break down and absorb quickly. “Open up.” He slipped the pill into Aidan’s mouth. The boy took four large gulps of water. “Like a pro.”

Then they waited. The pills were fast acting, hitting the bloodstream within minutes, but they had to wait to see if another seizure came. The clock ticked off seconds. Then minutes. The sobs died. “I think I’m okay,” Aidan whispered, his eyelids flitting.

Elise released him from her grip and Sean hugged the boy, relief spreading through his whole body in a wave. He rose, pill bottle in hand, his mind filled with a fog like he could faint at any point.

He walked around the couch and steadied himself against the wall. Soon, he was in the reserves. He pulled the cord for the light and sat against the side of the steps, watching the cord swing like a pendulum, gripping the clear bottle so hard his veins were popping out of the back of his hand, looking inside it. Seven pills left. He sighed and leaned his head back.

No more after that. He hadn’t needed one for a while, but still. If his son’s seizures became more frequent…

No rescue.

He sniffled and swallowed. He couldn’t be seen crying. The morale of the house stood on a teetering edge. If they saw him weak, they would assume he was losing control. And he couldn’t do that.

He wiped his eyes and looked out at the reserves. His strong city. He watched the light play off the bottles and cans and tried to relax.

Wait.

The cans. One was out of order. He dropped the pill bottle on the ground in front of him and got up, walking closer to the shelves. Every label was faced, except one. Instead of a can, a shadow. Nothing there.

He tried to rationalize it. But Elise wouldn’t have taken anything this early in the morning. She needed nothing from the reserves today. He tried to think back when he had fronted and faced the shelves. Maybe he had missed a spot. Sean looked at the label behind it.

Black beans.

He covered his mouth. There was no way somebody was that selfish.

There was no way somebody would steal food.

Chapter 10

ELISE

SHE FOUND SEAN in the basement teetering on a wobbly stepstool a moment away from collapsing. He had disappeared so fast. She had put Aidan in bed—rest being the best thing for him after an episode—and then went to find her husband. He wasn’t out chopping wood or in any other room of the house. Should have checked the reserves first—he was spending a lot of time there lately.

She stopped in the middle of the room, rubbing her arms, her teeth chattering. “Why’d you disappear like that?”

He rummaged around a wooden stud along the ceiling for something out of reach. The stool legs shook. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, not looking back at her.

“That was a really bad one.”

“I know,” he said, almost as if he wasn’t listening.

Her son’s windpipe could have sealed shut, and he didn’t seem to care. She turned to go back upstairs, too exhausted for a fight, but the pill bottle on the floor caught her eye. She almost didn’t want to look. It had been a while since they had filled the prescription, but Aidan’s last seizure was two years ago. The doctors thought they might be finished.

“How many are left?” she asked.

He stopped and looked at her. The step stool wobbled. “Huh?”

“How many pills does Aidan have left?”

Sean paused. “Seven.”

“Seven?”

“Did you get into the reserves after dinner last night?”

“What?”

“Did you get into the reserves at all today?”

“No. I didn’t do anything—” she said. “Sean, what are you doing?”