He wanted to think his distraction wasn’t obvious. He wanted to believe that he was going about his daily life, entirely unbothered by the constant hum in his head, the ache in his muscles, the compulsion to look over his shoulder that he fought every time. It was becoming very hard to fight. But there had to be somebody watching him. He could feel it. Feel the breath of whoever it was who wanted to harm him. Not him. His family. Not just his family. His little brother. His little sister. Was Arlo in danger, too? For a moment, he’d been angry at his father’s actions. But then, wasn’t that the easy way out? It would be so easy to be angry at his father for wanting change, not the enemies for wanting revenge. He had to get his mind straight.
Standing in the supply room, trying desperately to remember whose broom was whose, James looked up when he heard someone enter. “Mia,” he said, forcing a smile despite it all. “Didn’t lose something, did you?”
@mia-mccarthy