Chapter 5: The Youngest

I didn't let him in.

I stood in the doorway with the poker and let the rain fall on him.

"Say it again," I said.

Lorne wiped his face with his sleeve.

"In August. The day before the falls thing. I came in from the garage for a beer, and Delaney was in the laundry room."

"Doing what?"

"Going through the clean basket." He swallowed. "She looked right at me with it in her hand. Then she smiled and zipped her purse."

"And you didn't ask her why?"

"I figured she was cold." His laugh cracked in the middle. "It was ninety degrees, Lainey. I'm an idiot."

I looked at him.

Lorne had been the skinny kid who followed me everywhere when I first came to Larch Ridge.

He'd shared his lunch with me on my first day of school because I didn't know you had to bring one.

He was still the same boy, and he still couldn't hold my eyes.

"You knew," I said. "At the Choosing. You knew she was lying."

"Yeah."

"And you stepped back anyway."

"Beckett told us to." His voice dropped. "He said Dad said. He said if any of us took you, Dad would cut him off and give the seat to somebody else."

"So you chose the seat."

"I'm the fifth son. I was never getting the seat." He stared at his wet boots. "I chose not getting yelled at. That's worse."

The rain hammered on the porch roof.

I wanted to slam the door.

I wanted to hug him.

I did neither.

"Come in before you drown," I said.

He came in and dripped on the floor I'd just swept.

He looked around at the bare walls and the woodstove and the blanket on the floor.

"Wow. You really went all out on the decor."

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