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“I’ve still got to do the cash and stuff. Take your time, stay and think about what you want to do.” He gets up and goes to the door, flips over the “closed” sign, and slides across the deadbolt.
    Click .
    Instinctively my chest tightens and I sit up a little straighter in my chair. I’ve just let myself be locked up with a stranger.
    As if reading my mind, he says, “Don’t worry, I’m not a psycho or a serial killer. Though the ‘rip his lungs out’ thing might have made you wonder.”
    I stare at him, really hard, like I’m looking for something, a sign.
    He tilts his head and stares back, like he’s trying to figure me out too. His hair flops over one eye, and he brushes it away. Then, as if something dawns on him, he reaches for the deadbolt. “I can leave this unlocked, but you’ll have to be in charge of chasing people away.”
    I feel myself relax a little and shake my head. “No, it’s okay.”
    As he starts to make his way back to the kitchen, he stops and holds out his hand. “I’m Liam, by the way. Liam Stewart.”
    His hand hangs there, waiting. I take a deep breath, slip my hand into his, and shake. “Lyssa,” I say. “Lyssa Thomson.”
    â€œOkay, Lyssa Thomson. I’ll be done here in about ten minutes. Then, like I said, I can drop you anywhere you want.”
    â€œThanks.”
    I take my tea over to the window and watch the water rush along the street gutters. I have only one option. “Do you have a phone book?” I holler out to Liam.
    â€œYeah,” he answers. “Over by the cash register. The phone’s there too.”
    The number is easy to find. There are a million Mackenzies, but the one I want is at the very beginning. I lift up the phone and punch in the number.
    He picks up after the second ring. “Hello?”
    For a second I freeze.
    â€œHello?” he repeats.
    â€œHi, Aidan,” I finally say. “It’s me.”

CHAPTER 4
    T he rain drums loudly on the hood of the car. A film of condensation covers my side window. With my finger I draw a happy face on the glass. Liam must think I’m crazy. We’ve been parked here in front of this house for more than a few minutes and I haven’t made the slightest move to get out of the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I look at him. He’s listening to Arcade Fire on the radio and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, like he finds nothing at all weird about this situation. Maybe he’s the crazy one.
    I know I can’t stay here forever. I erase my artwork with the palm of my hand. “Thanks again for the drive,” I say.
    â€œNo big whoop.” He sweeps his hair out of his eyes. “It’s on my way home.”
    I still make no move to get out of the car.
    Liam turns in his seat. “I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, but you kind of remind me of myself when I had to go for a root canal last month.”
    I let out a laugh, more of a grunt really, but I don’t say anything.
    He rolls down his window and looks at the house. “This guy’s your brother, huh?”
    â€œStep.”
    â€œMy Spidey senses are telling me you’re kind of … I dunno … anxious about seeing him?”
    â€œIt’s a long story.”
    â€œIt usually is,” he says.
    I reach behind me, pull my duffle bag from the back seat, then fling the car door open. My stomach cramps up. I know it’s nerves. I sit with my body half-in, half-out and breathe deeply. I don’t care that the rain is soaking my legs all over again.
    â€œHey.” He touches my shoulder. “No matter what, he’s family, right?”
    My head turns. He makes it sound so simple. “Right.”
    But he must see something in my face, and his eyes turn serious. “Do you want me to come to the door with you?”
    â€œNo,” I say quickly. “Not