The Way Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

Susan reached her hand up and brushed his hair back from his face. “You're getting a little shaggy.”
    “Maybe I'll grow dreads again,” he grinned at her.
    “You had dreads? Do you have pictures?”
    “I might, if the album I had in my room is still there. Guess we're going to find out soon enough.” He looked so sad when he spoke that it actually hurt Susan's heart. He'd already had so much loss, to lose whatever he had left was tragic. “Don't look at me like that.”
    “Like what?” Susan hadn't thought she was looking in any strange kind of way.
    “Pity. Don't pity me.” He pushed up off of the couch. “We running or what?”
    “We're running.”
     
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    The loop around town was roughly six miles. By the time that they were done, Susan was in desperate need of a shower, some water and a place to sit. Houdini always had impressing endurance, but today he was like a machine, not stopping even when she knew he was pushing himself as hard as he could. They'd slowed down to a walk as they approached the warehouse, disregarded the crime scene tape and walked inside.
    The fire hadn't been as destructive as it could have been; the majority of the building was still standing. Susan hadn't spent any real time there. She could recall one party she'd gone to and the fact she'd left after getting her ass smacked for the third time. Houdini stood, very still and very quiet. She knew that he was seeing the building in a very different way. “My room was over in the back.”              
    Susan took his hand, squeezed his fingers. She hoped he realized that she wasn't silent because she didn't care; she was silent because she didn't know what to say to give him comfort. All she could do was walk along with him.
    She didn't really have much experience with fire and the damage that it caused but was struck by how much of the warehouse was still standing, most of the stores in town had been flattened. Rose hadn't been able to salvage so much as a plate from the restaurant. Yet it seemed that, if Deacon wanted, this place could be rebuilt, probably without a lot of effort. It didn't seem the time to bring it up as they entered a back hallway.
    There was evidence of fire, definite water damage and all the doors had been opened either by the arsonist or the fire department. Susan followed Houdini into the last room on the left. It was relatively untouched by the fire damage but there were signs of water damage. There was also evidence that the room had been used relatively recently; a few take-out containers and several magazines were strewn on the bed.
    “Someone was crashing here,” Houdini released her hand, moved over near the dresser and crouched down. He pried up one of the floorboards with his knife, pulled out a large, clear plastic envelope filled with papers. “They didn't find my stash.” He took a gun and another knife out of the opening and replaced the board. “That's something.”
    “It's good,” Susan looked around the room, spotted a piece of paper poking out from under the bed. “There's something there.” She knelt down next to the bed and pulled out a book.
    “That's my sketchpad,” his voice was low and right next to her. Susan hadn't even noticed him move.
    “You draw?”
    “Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders and took the book from her. He sat down heavily on the floor, sighed. “Never thought I'd see this again, any of this.”
    “The warehouse is in better shape than I expected.” Susan settled down on the floor next to him, glad to be off her aching feet.
    “Yeah, wouldn't take much to rebuild it. Don't say it, I know that we can't stay here. It's pack land. It's just... oh, fuck it. Forget it. We should just...”
    Susan couldn't let him keep talking so silenced him the only way she could be sure would work. Her mouth covered his, tongue demanding entrance, and he accepted. She shifted so that she was straddling his lap. It was by far the most intimate