Dean lugged her to the neighbor’s porch and he lifted her up, rested her against the steps. With the burning house in the background, he cupped his hands around her chin and looked at her.

“We’re getting our sons,” he said. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Darla answered. “I hear you.”

“Grant and Teddy are okay.”

“Okay.”

“They didn’t take Teddy to hurt him. They took him to save him,” Dean said. “If they wanted to hurt him, they would’ve left him to die. Right?”

Darla nodded. She didn’t know if she believed Dean, but she understood the logic. She nodded again. Then she wiped her face, aware that she was covered in dirt and grime and sweat. With her insides feeling like gelatin and her brain still reeling, she turned and bit her lip.

“I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” Dean asked. “You okay? You need a moment?”

She shook her head, her raven hair flying. With her hands on her hips, she shot a look to her new unlikely ally. “I don’t need anything but my child.”

“Where are we headed?” Dean asked. “You lead the way.”

Another boom and crash exploded behind them, Darla flinched, but she didn’t move. Her thoughts went to Ainsley, whose body was still out there, probably buried in the house. She wondered what her last moments were like…if she fought, if she sacrificed herself in those final seconds before they took Teddy. Darla pushed the thoughts away; her mind gravitated back to Teddy and the look on his face as they carried him down the street.

They took him away.

“The men knew Ethan was here. And they knew about my child. Which means one thing…Grant and Lucy made it to Brixton. So, we go to Brixton.”

“Nebraska,” Dean said. “Into the lion’s den.”

“You can stay if you want,” Darla spat, turning to him, her eyes flashing with betrayal. “But nothing…nothing…will stop me from going after my son.”

“Hey,” Dean said and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her into a brief hug; her body stiffened as he embraced her. “You’re the boss. I’m with you. Let’s go get our kids back.”

He let his arm linger on her shoulder for a second and then he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze; then, mechanically, they both turned to the pyre and stood frozen on the sidewalk, as the home tumbled downward, crashing to the earth in a pillar of smoke and ash and flame.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lucy felt light. Like a weight had lifted off of her shoulders. She kept looking at Grant like he was going to flit away, but every time she stole a glance he was there, smiling back at her.

The sun beat down through the skylight. It was a cloudless Nebraskan day and soon the light would dip below the glass and they could experience the joy of a bright sunset. They were waiting and watching the sun: something that Grant had not seen since they had first arrived in Brixton. He blinked and stared up at the glass, in awe, and giddy.

“This place…it’s awesome,” Grant said. “I hope they never find it. I hope it’s ours forever.”

Ours. Lucy loved the sound of that.

After Grant was given a tour of the System—which included a trip to the Center and a special glimpse into the Sky Room—Cass had brought them up to the special room as a treat.

“I’ve got the real Sky Room. If you want,” Cass had enticed and then they wandered through the intricate labyrinth of hallways and sneaked through the fake wall, and rode the elevator to the top. Grant’s face was frozen in admiration.

Once settled, Cass reached into the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of champagne.

“To celebrate,” she announced and slid out the cork with a small pop, a stream of white gas escaping out of the top. Then Cass poured them each a glass into small plastic cups and handed the bubbling drinks to her guests. “A toast,” Cass continued. “To Grant’s freedom.”

“To health,” Grant added.

“And forgiveness,” Lucy contributed.

Cass pointed her glass to Lucy and then to Grant. “To new beginnings and new friends.”

“Cheers,” Grant replied and they rose their plastic cups and pushed them together before taking small sips. Lucy took several strong gulps and then rubbed her head and smiled.

“I’ve never had champagne,” Lucy mused looking into her cup. “Were you keeping this up here for a reason?”

Cass shrugged. “This is a good reason, no?”

“I’m not complaining,” Lucy added quickly. Then she rose the cup to her lips and finished off the rest.

“Easy there, partner,” Grant warned with a smile.

They spent the rest of the time in relative silence, and then Cass abruptly left them alone. Slipping into the elevator without fanfare, the doors closing behind her, she sent Lucy a subtle wink before she was lowered out of sight.

It wasn’t the first time Lucy had been alone with Grant: They had those days together traveling and the time in Wyoming. Somehow, though, it felt different: as if everything was leading up to this exact moment.

They rested on their backs, staring without conversation through the thick glass that separated them from the world above ground; everything had changed. Now, they knew the truth. The searching was over and the dealing with what the future would look like for them was beginning. Lucy took a deep breath and extended her hand, feeling for his body next to hers. She found his hand and took it, intertwining their fingers. Then Grant rolled to his stomach in a sudden move and leaned over her, his face inches from hers, his breath pouring over her like a wave.

“You saved me,” he said.

Lucy smiled. “I said I would. I hate breaking promises.”

“What if you were a coward? Like, what if you were just selfish. Scared?” he asked.

She turned her head away and closed her eyes, “Come on,” she answered. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious. You put it on the line…the easy thing would have been to just worry about you. You didn’t.”

“No,” she said and her eyes snapped open. “Who would’ve have done that? Who would’ve left you to die?”

Grant turned his head. “Lots of people, Lucy.”

“I didn’t do anything. My father—”

“Stop. No.” He lowered his body next to hers and propped his chin on his hand. His brown eyes unmoored her and she looked way. “That was you. You cared. You wanted to save me. You did. You.”

“Of course.” She couldn’t help but sound surprised. “What else would I have done? You’re my friend…”

“Stop,” he whispered again. Then he leaned his body forward and kissed her. Their lips met and Lucy remained frozen against the ground, scared to ruin the moment, scared that if she shifted or sighed he would pull away. His lips were raw and chapped, his unbrushed teeth clicked for a second against her own; but all Lucy could feel was the way his right hand reached up and cupped the side of her face, the way his body felt brushing against hers.

He stopped and looked at her. Their eyes met for only a second before Lucy lifted her head and kissed him again. She raised her body into a sitting position, keeping herself fixed to Grant as she rose—as if when they separated for a second she could lose him again forever. She was cognizant of every action, every touch, every sound. And she never wanted it to end.

Lucy wrapped both arms around Grant and he tumbled backward. He pulled away and laughed. She giggled too and stayed above him, for a second, looking deep into his eyes. She searched them for signs of sadness, happiness, pain, joy. He smiled, and she shifted her attention to his little dimple and leaned down to kiss it.