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My brother... my uncle, my unacknowledged father, or whatever Ryan was to me... disappeared into his apartment and into a bottle like some broken toy ship. I know how it sounds, but for two days, I didn't have the heart in me even to check in on him. I was hurt. I felt that kind of hate you can only feel for the ones you love the most when they pull away and leave you stranded in an airless room.

Years before, I'd pieced together enough about the summer of my conception to guess the circumstances of it. I suppose my speculations settled on Ryan because, as troubling as the implications were to the rest of the world, I wanted it to be him. I wanted to be Ryan's son.

I'd pictured the scene a million times over the years. A hint dropped. A sudden something said that couldn't be laughed away or ignored. Some sign I belonged. Really belonged. That he was mine and I was his. And the warm acceptance. The shrug and the smile and being okay with the truth... I'd woken up from dreams like that with tears in my eyes. But now that it had finally been said, to have those tears slapped into my eyes by a man who despised me for even daring to call him 'father', well... I could never have hurt him. But just in those moments, God knows, I hated him in a special way I've never hated anyone else in my life, or ever could. A hatred unique to him, and pure.

And so I let him rot up there.

Besides, I had other things to think of. If he wouldn't accept me as his son, then I would at least force him to accept me as his partner. Well, I could try. And now I could see a way.

Chip had been sticking his paw in the Sandbanks boys' cookie jar for quite a while now, and there'd been no trouble. Evidently they weren't checking much. Probably just dropped it off for a rainy day and all but forgot about it. If that was the case, well, then; anyone could clean them out anytime and it might be months or maybe even years before any chickens came home to shit on the roost.

Yeah, anyone. Anyone who I knew where to go looking for one of them cookie jars. Like me.

I went and took a nice, slow drive along Bald Mountain Road. To call it a road is callin' a whore a lady. There were places where it was nothing more than wheel ruts in a field before opening up to dirt, on-again-off-again, like that. I saw nothing. Even took me a good long look where it dead ends up at the broken bridge ain't no one's crossed in forty years. Nothing. Drove back just as slow. Didn't see a speck of blue.

Went back the next day, when it was sunnier. And wouldn't you know it? It made all the difference. Just before a curve I saw it. Chip's little blue marker. I stopped. Set a node on my geotracker. Drove to the end like I seen nothing. Drove on back.

That night long about two in the morning I came back. Parked way back, off to the side in the trees. Hopped out with my old valise. Crysta, I was scared. I jumped at every hoot and fart, even my own. Checked the pawPad every couple minutes. Finally I was there. Found me a nice stout stick and started pokin' in the dirt. Didn't take long. Started diggin' with my bare paws. All four of 'em at one point, I think. Down about two foot, there it was. Plastic tub, set in deep. No lock, no chain, no nothing. I figured that would be the case if Chip could just dip in and figure no one would notice; still, I have to say, some part of me was surprised.

I shined the light of my pawPad in that ol' hole. There was a lot of money down there. I didn't know how much. But I knew if I was gonna do this, well, there was no point risking a bad beating for a few grand like Chip. That wouldn't do nothing much to advance the goal. So if I was taking this risk, I was all in. I took it all. Right down to the dollar. Put the lid back on, shoved that dirt back on it, tramped it down, and yomped that battered old valise back to my truck.

I took it down another side road I knew and buried it again in a spot I wouldn't forget. Then I went home and forgot about it for a few days. Well, I tried to. Truth was, it was on my mind just about every waking moment. But I wanted to see if anything happened. Any news. Any furious action from them Sandbanks boys. There was nothing. So, one night I went back, dug it up again, and lit out to a motel. Got me a room. Locked it good and tight. Turned up the TV. Flicked on the reading lamp. And right there on the bed, I dumped it out and started counting.

"This is crazy. This is some crazy," Tox was saying, runnin' his paws over the bundles as I set them aside.

"Shut up. You're gonna make me lose count."

"It's a lot. It's a lot, Mango. Maybe you oughta put some back. Them boys go out there to make another deposit, they ain't likely to notice as long as there's a good pile already in there. They go and there's nothing, shit's gonna explode."

"Suppose they already noticed, and they're set out there just waiting?" I said.

"For what?" he snorted. "Fuckin' money's gone! What would they be waitin' for, someone to come steal the tub?"

That made more sense than what I'd just said. But greed got the better of me. Greed, and something else. "Ain't putin' none of it back. Fuck Billy. My gain, his loss." _Finally,_I added to myself.

I was tapping numbers in on my pawPad as I went. Most of them were bundles of tens. A thousand bucks a bundle. There were some bundles of fifties, and even a few bundles of hundreds. I figured these were the first harvests of their top hat crop. If that was true, all the better. If they had that kind of money coming in, they'd never miss this. Hell, they'd probably never even need it.

After half an hour I was done counting it. Couldn't believe it. $117,000 and change. More than enough to buy, ship, and deck out a T-111 with all the gee-gahs, and then some. I felt like Nightscape O'Crossglens, robbing from the decadent and vile to give to the miserable and lost... namely, me and Ryan. To Billy and his boys, this was just more cash they might or might not need, someday, maybe, down the line. To us, it was practically life itself. It was a chance to save the garage and, selfishly, for me to finally buy into a share of it. It was a way to lift Ryan's hopes and spirit out of the bottle, maybe for good. There was no way of looking at this that wasn't a net positive for the world. And if Chip was right, odds are, them dickheads'd never even know.

And it felt good... it felt sooo fucking good to dip my paws into a suitcase filled with Billy Sandbanks's money, wade them around in it, lift bundles of it up to my snout and nuzzle it. Smell it. I laughed, tossed it around in the air. When I thought of every time he'd gutpunched me in the hallways at school, or humiliated me from the bleachers on the court, or treated me like dirt in any of a thousand ways ever since, I rejoiced in ripping him off, getting back something of my own. The only thing that tempered it all was the shocking realization that if he and his boys could just dump this kind of money around the country and hardly miss it... Japheth, just how much were they actually sitting on? How long before he was owning Rockfern? Running it? And what then?

He was headed for big things, the cunt. Me, at best, I was headed for being Ryan's junior partner. The thought that I couldn't even manage that without Billy's 'help' muted the celebration even more. But that was what I wanted. Let Billy aspire to... whatever. Drug lord, premier, governor, senator. Whatever. But I would make a place for myself here, and one that wasn't just a loaner. One that belonged to me. And if I couldn't earn it with the sweat of my brow, like Ryan, well then I'd earn it with my smarts. Like Billy. And the first smart thing was to go back and hide the money again till I was ready.

Now I set myself two tasks. One was actually find a T-111. And without leaving a paper trail... or at least, not one tailored to my needs... that wasn't easily done. So that was going to be a job unto itself. And the other was coming up with some story that would explain how that was even possible in the first place. I figured I knew Ryan well enough and he knew me that he wouldn't sweat me on the details. Maybe one day I could even tell him how it all went down. But right now it was the rest of the town I was concerned with... Billy and his crew most of all.

It was in the middle of the weekly poker game that I made my big play; one nothing to do with the cards in my paws. Me and Chip, Dougie Foresthome, Timmy Westburrow, and Wyatt Sprucewind were all sat around the table when I just up and said, "Headin' out for a few weeks," as I tossed a chip in the pot.

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" Timmy looked at me over his glasses and over his cards. It would be Timmy that asked. He was the reason I was telling it here and now. Telephone, television, tell Tim. It would be all over town by Friday.

"Me and Ryan's trying to get some money together for a machine to look after the new fangled cars the cops are getting. Figured I'd take a volunteer stint with the Guard. Brush up some skills. Move us closer to the goal. That, and our savings, and hopefully a loan, that oughta just get us over the goal line."

"I fold." Wyatt tossed a chip and his hand. "What they gonna learn yah? You know yet?"

"Crowd control, I gather. What to do with riots and insurrections."

Wyatt shifted in his chair and scratched his tail thoughtfully. "I would have reckoned, came to that, you'd be on our side."

I gave him a look. "I know that. You know that. They don't gotta. Long as they pay me, they can teach me to howl at the moon. Don't mean I'm gonna pull it down for 'em." Well, that got a laugh, at least.

"When you off?" Dougie said, dealing himself a couple new cards.

"Headin' out on the weekend. Kinda worried about Ryan, though. Lately he's, well..."

"Uh huh," Wyatt said. "Don't worry, Mango. We'll all do what we can."

"Long as he's busy, he's okay. Raise twenty." Timmy tossed a chip.

"Ahh, fold," I said, and anteed.

"Gonna miss you, Mango," Chip smiled, poking me with his toes under the table. Poked him back.

"Well, I'll have stories to tell when I get back."

"Maybe a fishin' trip," Dougie said, and there were a few sly chuckles.

Wyatt raised his beer can. "That could be fun. Nice to get away from the wives once in a while to, uh, share some tales."

A few grumbles of agreement and some knowing glances crossed the table. Timmy held out his can. "To Mango's return." And with the soft clunk of aluminum meeting aluminum, the seed of my cover story was safely planted. Timmy, as advertised, did the rest.

So then I started putting on my show. Jogging in the mornings. Doing pull-ups on the hoist in the open garage. Accepting invites to come 'round to dinner from friends and neighbours. Mango's going away to do his bit for the Freelands and get a little ahead! Well, it had to be done. Savouring a few nice meals and fine company was no hardship. Almost made me feel ashamed for trickin' 'em all. Almost, I say.

Then it was just making my plans and contingencies. I'd had to do something like this before when I was 15, runnin' away to come try my luck with Ryan. This time it was going to be a lot easier. I'd have money. I'd have my own wheels. Leaving my pawPad behind, as I'd always done when I was on active duty, would just make it that much easier to disappear over the horizon for a while.

I left early one morning after checking in with Ryan. Wasn't sure what state the business would be in when I got back, but he seemed at least functional again. He grunted me a grudging few words and a 'see yah soon' and I was off. I drove out just up out of the state and pulled into a truck stop off the interstate and put my plan in action.

I got myself a prepaid disposable pawPad. I'd need to be able to call around, and be available in return. But I didn't want to leave a trail behind, of course. A month would be plenty. At least, I hoped to God it would.

I had plenty of cash, of course. Wasn't really sure what I'd need, so I brought an amount in the low five figures just to be on the safe side. But cash can be stolen, which would have left me out there with nothing but my golden balls--which, by the way, are worth a lot more than forty grand apiece, no matter what Ryan thinks--and efficacious as they are, they probably weren't gonna get me home. So I invested several thousand dollars in a few pre-paid credit cards keyed to my noseprint. I did stash several more in cash a few places around the truck as a backup.

Next thing was to retard the odometer. Ain't tellin' you how that's done; that's a trade secret. But if anyone came sniffin', I wanted the numbers to line up with my last statement to the DMV. Driving to Fort Sabre for a flight out and driving all over half the states in Columbiana would result in some very different numbers. Why take that chance when I'm one of the few people who absolutely ain't gotta? So I didn't.

So then I was free. Truly free. I hit the road, and I started my search in earnest... my full time job now, for the time being.

Most motels won't take a pre-paid, so as I experienced this great country of ours, I did it mostly running from truck stop to truck stop; eating and showering in their facilities and sleeping in Old Betsy like a real long hauler. Well, except for a few times I was lucky enough to enjoy someone else's superior accommodations. Like I said, worth a lot more than forty grand apiece, used correctly.

I spent my days asking around at garages. Vast majority of them I got nothing, of course, but soon I had some leads from brother grease beasts. There were a few places across the country with ostensible stellar reputations where, for the right untraceable pawshakes, 'used' or 'refurbished' equipment that had somehow vanished from official inventory could be had at an appropriate discount. I did some price comparison at a few of these fine establishments and ultimately concluded a very satisfactory deal with one upstanding gent in Tall Meadows, arranging to take delivery back home in a few weeks. Don't mind tellin' you, I was over the moon. I went out and got good and loaded that night.

With that out of the way, I found myself with some free time on my paws. So I did what Ryan suggested, and reached out to Jane. I'd seen her a half dozen times or so since settling south, usually at Blessharvest or Longnight, but this was to be a real proverbial homecoming. She extended a kind and understanding invitation, which I took her up on. And it was a true journey of self-discovery. But this ain't the place to tell it. Deserves a story of its own. I'll catch y'all up on that another time, and for now I'll just say I was there a mite longer than I anticipated.

All told, my little excursion ran to something to just shy of a month from start to finish. Keep in mind, to preserve the illusion I was away at bullet camp, I'd been incommunicado the whole while. I had no idea what I was coming home to.

To put a fine point on it, I was a little concerned about the state I'd find Ryan in.

But if he wouldn't acknowledge me as his son, I could at least force him to accept me as his partner, and win the stake in the business by saving it. Without me and the coup I'd just pulled off, he wouldn't have a business in a year. So here I was, coming home, master of the universe. I'd thought of everything. What a good boy am I.

It was mid-afternoon as I pulled into Rockfern. The place seemed real subdued for midweek. I don't remember thinking about it deeply. There was just something off-putting in the air. People were around. They were doing their thing. But something was dank. Like someone hit one of the black keys on the piano that day.

I hustled a bit on my way back to the garage.

I parked and left my things in the truck and took the stairs up to Ryan's place two at a time. I hammered on the door a couple times to announce myself and then let myself in. The relief not to find the door locked was a welcome cool splash inside my chest.

Ryan was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking, looking at me. Like he knew I was coming or something.

"Hey, I'm back!" I crowed. "The T-111 show up yet?" I knew it hadn't, but I thought I'd start off big.

"What T-111?"

"Got done a little early. Thought I'd go lookin'. I got a great deal, Ry, a great deal on a used one. Slightly used. Refurb. Ry, we are set. We're set, Ry! Did you hear me? Mitch is gonna be able to come right down here--"

"Nicky, that's great, that's really terrific. Listen, you--"

"--and bring them bright, shiny new toys of his in here, and we are going to be rollin'--"

"Nicky. Nicky!"

"Yeah, wha... What is it, Ry?" I asked, hotly. I couldn't disguise my frustration. I had just solved all his problems, and he was sittin' there, talkin' over me, down in the mouth like someone just... just...

We stared at each other for a couple seconds. "What happened?"

"Nick, I need you to sit down a minute."

"What's going on? Everyone out there in town looked like their spring's windin' down."

"Nicky, sit down, would you?"

"Ry, just say what you gotta say. I'm a big boy."

He took a deep breath, and I admit, at that point, I got scared. Turned out I had reason to be.

"Nicky, uh... they, uh... Well, they dragged Chip Snowshiver up out of the river last Tuesday. He's dead."

I heard something catch in my own throat like it was somebody else's. "What?"

Ry looked down, careful with his words even half-drunk. That's how serious he knew this was. "They figure, ah... Well, at first they figured he jumped. Probably off Crossbarrens Bridge--"

I leaned on the table so my knees wouldn't buckle. "Wait... you're sayin'... he killed himself?_No. No way. Chip would never--" I had to break off, just so I wouldn't embarrass myself. _Chip. Japheth, no. Not you, Chip. Fuck, you just married Beulah...

"Well, that's just it. Last I heard, they reckon..."

"What... what?"

"It's adding up to someone killed him."

At that moment, I would have sworn the ceiling had slammed down on my head. My brain was swimming. I couldn't even quite process it.

"I'm sorry, Nicky. I liked him too. Anyway... there it is, kiddo."

"Thanks, Ry," I managed. I staggered a bit and fought to keep control of myself. And then I finally did sit. Swallowed, hard, and asked the unbelievable. "When's the funeral?"

He took a deep breath. "Been and gone. It was on the weekend. You just missed it. I was there for you, kid. Figured you'd want it that way."

I tipped forward, head between my knees, paws laced behind my head. I think I started to cry. I'm not sure. I do remember feelin' Ryan's paw on the back of my mane, stroking it, like I was a cub again.

"It's no way to come home, I know. And I'm sorry this had to stomp all over what you done. You done great, Nicky. I'm proud of you. I was always proud of you." There were tears in his voice too.

He gave me a minute or two, then patted my shoulder. "Nicky, when you're ready, you should really go pay your respects."

I looked up.

"Beulah," he said.

"Oh, Ry... I don't think I could face that."

"Nicky, you just got home, and you just got the news. You don't go over, she'll never forgive you. And neither will you. Be a man, now. Go clean up, put on something proper, and go do the right thing. It's decent."

It was mid afternoon by the time I was presentable and had my shit wired again. I got in the truck and stopped at a florist along the way, and then headed over to Chip and Beulah's place. And with all the courage I could muster, I pushed myself up their front walk and onto their porch to knock on their... her... door.

Beulah had barely opened the door before she threw herself into my arms. "Oh, Mango! Oh, Mango, you..."

"Beulah, I just heard. I'm so sorry, Beulah. I'm so, so sorry." God, I thought, if you only knew...

"They killed him, Mango. I know they did. He did everything they ever asked, but I know he saw something he shouldn'ta, and they killed him for it. Oh, Mango, the things they did to him..." She fell onto my shoulders. I had to hold her up. I needed someone to hold me up, but I was all I had.

"I know it, I know it," I said, in tears myself now. "But don't you go sayin' it. Don't say it to nobody else. They're mean, Beulah, and if they hear that and they think they can get away with it, they'll make you pay for it. And damn it, you've paid too much as it is."

"I want them dead, Mango. I want them dead. All of them--"

"Shhh shhh shhh shhh shhh," I said, glancing around, and easing her inside. "Careful, now, Beulahh, please."

"I don't care what they do to me! They killed my Chip, Mango..."

"Well, I care. Your kin care. Your friends too. So you just hold onto that, and hold on tight. They'll get theirs."

"It was them Sandbanks boys. I know it was," she whimpered. "I knew no good would come of it, but Chip, he was saying as soon as we could afford our own place, he'd shake loose, and I believed him... Oh, Mango, why did I believe him?"

I couldn't answer that. I sat with her a while. Friends and relatives came and went, and after a bit I was able to make a polite and respectful retreat. It took years off my life, being there, seeing what they'd done to her.

What I'd done to her.

I sat in the truck out by where I'd spent that last time together with Chip up on Sidewinder Creek, trying to think it all through. The Sheriff knew the Sandbanks gang was runnin' moonshine. Every county, every town down here has a still somewhere. No one takes it too seriously, as long as it's kept on the down low and ain't nobody going blind or waking up dead. Every once in a while they'd chase one of the runners and he'd have to dump the tank on the road. They'd haul him over, find him with more money than he could sensibly account for, and it would be seized for 'racketeering' and disappear into the force's general funds. It was a tax, essentially. Kept Mitch's budgets looking sweet to the county, and the county's looking sweet to the state. Why kill the goose that pisses the golden shine? Even the roughness it took to keep an unofficial business like that straight got winked at. No one was going to squawk if they knew what was good for them. I started wondering. Was that it? Had Chip given them the impression he was going to talk?

But I knew that was just me grasping at straws. Trying to convince myself it was Chip's on fault he was killed, and not mine.

It was evening time when I got back into town, and I knew then I had another stop to make. If there was anyone else in this town I needed to show my face to that first day, it was Chip's little sister, Anne Marie.

For a few years Chip and Anne Marie were out on their own together, sharing this little rented house. It was just enough room for them to be off on their own and be out of each other's way, but still have someone familiar to bring their triumphs and tribulations home to. It had lasted till Chip started courting Beulah, and he'd moved in with her. Anne Marie was doing well enough by then, I guess, that she could keep the place on her own.

I'd been there a hundred times over the years, to the point I knew Anne Marie pretty well in her own right. Never made a move on her. I think because she was Chip's sister, and it felt like it would complicate things. Besides, she never expressed any interest, so we just left it for what it was. She was fun to be around, but when I was, it was mostly hanging around with Chip. It worked that way, and that's how we left it.

And now he was gone.

As I mounted the steps and opened the creaky porch bug screen door, I hesitated. My head was telling me to knock but my heart just would not let the order go through. I wondered if the afternoon with Beulah might have been all I had the batteries for in one day. I turned, standing there on the porch with the bugs orbiting the light, wishing myself back into my truck.

"Mango?"

I turned. Anne Marie opened the front door and padded out onto the porch. "It is you," she said. "Oh, God, it's good to see you."

I took my cap off my head. "I wanted... I just... I came by to see if you needed anything."

The look I got told me My big brother back, but she swallowed and shook her head. "Come on inside," she said.

"I don't want to impose," I said.

With the kind of grace only royalty should have, she stepped out onto the porch and sat on the porch swing, reaching an obliging compromise without a single word. Her eyes bid me join her, and so I did.

I reached out and covered her paw with mine. "Anything you need, anytime you need it, reach out. I mean it, Anne Marie. Don't want you going through this alone."

She turned her soft, pretty gaze on me. "Ain't alone. There's Mama and Daddy, my brothers and sisters, Beulah... we're all holding each other up. But it means a lot to hear it from someone who's not kin. Thank you, Mango."

"Wish you'd call me Nicky."

"If you'd prefer," she said.

"I think I would, with you."

She smiled faintly. "When'd you get back?"

"Just this morning. Ryan told me straight away. Been to see Beulah. Did some thinking. Then I came over here. I wasn't sure..."

"I'm glad you did. Chip would have been real..." She suddenly sobbed. I took her in my arms. She finally said, "It would have meant a lot to him, you being here straight away."

"I still can't believe it," I told her, in tears myself.

"I've had a week to get used to it," she said. "And I still see him everywhere. Everywhere in this house. Watchin' his shows. Gamin' on the console. Laughing with the boys in the kitchen. Japheth, it hurts. I want to stop. But I'm terrified that it will, and then what've I got left?"

We sat quietly for a little while, as if he was right there, sleepin' on the couch just the other side of the open window. Like we didn't want to disturb him. Snifflin', sobbin', the both of us, just holding each other and rockin' slowly. Then a calm came over her, and she was ready to speak.

"I can't make up my mind whether it's a blessing or a curse Beulah ain't pregnant," she said. "It's a blessing she doesn't have to bring a pup into the world alone. But... at least then we'd have something. As it is, we ain't got nothing, nothing left of him," she murmured, leaning into my shoulder.

I wanted to find the words. The right thing to say. Even a pat answer. I had nothing. I just held her and stroked her mane and prayed she'd never guess she was in the arms of the careless man who'd knocked her brother into the abyss.

Anything but. After a moment, she leaned back and looked up at me. "You were his hero," she said.

I closed my eyes. "Oh, don't say that," I begged her.

She took it for modesty. "No, it's true," she said, sniffling, managing to smile. "For years there in school, it was Mango done this and Mango done that. He grew out of it, of course. But he never really left it behind." She was sobbing and giggling in turns. "You two were close. I know that."

I nodded. "We were, yeah. Not quite like back then, but..."

"I understand. But I'm glad you kept that all these years." She rubbed her nose on her knuckle and seemed to lift herself up from under some spell. "Where are my manners? Would you like something cool?"

"I'm fine, Anne Marie."

"Well, I ain't. You sit tight." She got up and padded back into the house. A few moments later she returned with a couple of popsicles. I gave a little laugh. "Hope you like grape."

"My fave," I said, pulling the wrapper off. And we sat there, sucking on these things like a couple of cubs on a 'first date', tossing glances and looking away. Trying to let the sweetness and coolness soothe something way too big for popsicles to heal.

But maybe that's what it was. It started to work. We started to reminisce about Chip. Our times together, all three. Her memories of him. Mine. Stuff back in school. Poker nights. His shitty work ethic when it came to cleaning day at their place. His impossibly bad cooking, before she finally shooed him to a course that completely turned that around. We still ached for him, but together we were remaking him for one another. It was a little strange for me. In my world, only twelve hours before, Chip had still been alive and a part of it. Now I was sitting on his old porch with his sister and trying to breathe a colourful little spark into his ghost.

I'm not sure what time it was when I thought I should say my good night and let her be. The sun had been down for a while by then. It was probably between ten and eleven. Part of me wanted to stay, as if my leaving would break some spell that was keeping Chip here among her and me, and send him tumbling away to the Between Lives.

But the fact was, I was tired. It had already been a day three days long. And I was sure my visit and having to relive it all had taken a toll on her.

"I hope you'll forgive me," I said, and instantly regretted my phrasing. "I mean, I should probably get on home. Check in with Ry... you know," I said, lamely.

"How's he keeping? Ain't seen him since the service."

"He seems better than he was. Thanks for asking, Anne Marie."

"Meant a lot, him being there."

"Annie, I'm sorry I wasn--"

"No. No, don't you do that. You had no way of knowing. Don't blame yourself for what you couldn't control. Don't you feel a moment's regret."

"That's sweet of you." With some reluctance, I got to my feet. "If you need anything, I want you to call me. I mean that."

She rose too. She hugged me. "Mango... You think... Can I see you tomorrow?" she asked.

I rubbed her back. "Whenever you like. Night or day."

"You remind me of him. In a good way. It's like when I see you, he's still here."

"I feel the same way."

"Come by for supper?"

I smiled. "That'd be wonderful."

"Well... g'night, then, I guess." She chuckled softly, looking all over the place but at me.

I kissed her forehead. "See you tomorrow." I turned, and I headed down her steps.